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diff --git a/3030-h/3030-h.htm b/3030-h/3030-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..88e9d48 --- /dev/null +++ b/3030-h/3030-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10472 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Tavern Knight, by Rafael Sabatini + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Tavern Knight, by Rafael Sabatini + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Tavern Knight + +Author: Rafael Sabatini + +Release Date: February 28, 2009 [EBook #3030] +Last Updated: March 10, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TAVERN KNIGHT *** + + + + +Produced by Polly Stratton, and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE TAVERN KNIGHT + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Rafael Sabatini + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>THE TAVERN KNIGHT</b> </a> <br /><br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> ON THE MARCH <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> ARCADES AMBO <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> THE LETTER <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a> AT THE SIGN OF THE + MITRE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> AFTER + WORCESTER FIELD <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a> COMPANIONS + IN MISFORTUNE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a> THE + TAVERN KNIGHT'S STORY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. + </a> THE TWISTED BAR <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0009"> + CHAPTER IX. </a> THE BARGAIN <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a> THE ESCAPE <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a> THE ASHBURNS <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a> THE HOUSE THAT WAS + ROLAND MARLEIGH'S <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. </a> THE + METAMORPHOSIS OF KENNETH <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER + XIV. </a> THE HEART OF CYNTHIA ASHBURN <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. </a> JOSEPH'S RETURN <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. </a> THE RECKONING + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. </a> JOSEPH + DRIVES A BARGAIN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. </a> COUNTER-PLOT + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. </a> THE + INTERRUPTED JOURNEY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. </a> THE + CONVERTED HOGAN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI. </a> THE + MESSAGE KENNETH BORE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII. + </a> SIR CRISPIN'S UNDERTAKING <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII. </a> GREGORY'S ATTRITION + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV. </a> THE + WOOING OF CYNTHIA <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV. </a> CYNTHIA'S + FLIGHT <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI. </a> TO + FRANCE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII. </a> THE + AUBERGE DU SOLEIL <br /><br /> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h1> + THE TAVERN KNIGHT + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. ON THE MARCH + </h2> + <p> + He whom they called the Tavern Knight laughed an evil laugh—such a + laugh as might fall from the lips of Satan in a sardonic moment. + </p> + <p> + He sat within the halo of yellow light shed by two tallow candles, whose + sconces were two empty bottles, and contemptuously he eyed the youth in + black, standing with white face and quivering lip in a corner of the mean + chamber. Then he laughed again, and in a hoarse voice, sorely suggestive + of the bottle, he broke into song. He lay back in his chair, his long, + spare legs outstretched, his spurs jingling to the lilt of his ditty whose + burden ran: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + On the lip so red of the wench that's sped + His passionate kiss burns, still-O! + For 'tis April time, and of love and wine + Youth's way is to take its fill-O! + Down, down, derry-do! + + So his cup he drains and he shakes his reins, + And rides his rake-helly way-O! + She was sweet to woo and most comely, too, + But that was all yesterday-O! + Down, down, derry-do! +</pre> + <p> + The lad started forward with something akin to a shiver. + </p> + <p> + “Have done,” he cried, in a voice of loathing, “or, if croak you must, + choose a ditty less foul!” + </p> + <p> + “Eh?” The ruffler shook back the matted hair from his lean, harsh face, + and a pair of eyes that of a sudden seemed ablaze glared at his companion; + then the lids drooped until those eyes became two narrow slits—catlike + and cunning—and again he laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Gad's life, Master Stewart, you have a temerity that should save you from + grey hairs! What is't to you what ditty my fancy seizes on? 'Swounds, man, + for three weary months have I curbed my moods, and worn my throat dry in + praising the Lord; for three months have I been a living monument of + Covenanting zeal and godliness; and now that at last I have shaken the + dust of your beggarly Scotland from my heels, you—the veriest + milksop that ever ran tottering from its mother's lap would chide me + because, yon bottle being done, I sing to keep me from waxing sad in the + contemplation of its emptiness!” + </p> + <p> + There was scorn unutterable on the lad's face as he turned aside. + </p> + <p> + “When I joined Middleton's horse and accepted service under you, I held + you to be at least a gentleman,” was his daring rejoinder. + </p> + <p> + For an instant that dangerous light gleamed again from his companion's + eye. Then, as before, the lids drooped, and, as before, he laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Gentleman!” he mocked. “On my soul, that's good! And what may you know of + gentlemen, Sir Scot? Think you a gentleman is a Jack Presbyter, or a + droning member of your kirk committee, strutting it like a crow in the + gutter? Gadswounds, boy, when I was your age, and George Villiers lived—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, have done!” broke in the youth impetuously. “Suffer me to leave you, + Sir Crispin, to your bottle, your croaking, and your memories.” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, go your ways, sir; you'd be sorry company for a dead man—the + sorriest ever my evil star led me into. The door is yonder, and should you + chance to break your saintly neck on the stairs, it is like to be well for + both of us.” + </p> + <p> + And with that Sir Crispin Galliard lay back in his chair once more, and + took up the thread of his interrupted song + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + But, heigh-o! she cried, at the Christmas-tide, + That dead she would rather be-O! + Pale and wan she crept out of sight, and wept + + 'Tis a sorry— +</pre> + <p> + A loud knock that echoed ominously through the mean chamber, fell in that + instant upon the door. And with it came a panting cry of— + </p> + <p> + “Open, Cris! Open, for the love of God!” + </p> + <p> + Sir Crispin's ballad broke off short, whilst the lad paused in the act of + quitting the room, and turned to look to him for direction. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my master,” quoth Galliard, “for what do you wait?” + </p> + <p> + “To learn your wishes, sir,” was the answer sullenly delivered. + </p> + <p> + “My wishes! Rat me, there's one without whose wishes brook less waiting! + Open, fool!” + </p> + <p> + Thus rudely enjoined, the lad lifted the latch and set wide the door, + which opened immediately upon the street. Into the apartment stumbled a + roughly clad man of huge frame. He was breathing hard, and fear was writ + large upon his rugged face. An instant he paused to close the door after + him, then turning to Galliard, who had risen and who stood eyeing him in + astonishment— + </p> + <p> + “Hide me somewhere, Cris,” he panted—his accent proclaiming his + Irish origin. “My God, hide me, or I'm a dead man this night!” + </p> + <p> + “'Slife, Hogan! What is toward? Has Cromwell overtaken us?” + </p> + <p> + “Cromwell, quotha? Would to Heaven 'twere no worse! I've killed a man!” + </p> + <p> + “If he's dead, why run?” + </p> + <p> + The Irishman made an impatient gesture. + </p> + <p> + “A party of Montgomery's foot is on my heels. They've raised the whole of + Penrith over the affair, and if I'm taken, soul of my body, 'twill be a + short shrift they'll give me. The King will serve me as poor Wrycraft was + served two days ago at Kendal. Mother of Mercy!” he broke off, as his ear + caught the clatter of feet and the murmur of voices from without. “Have + you a hole I can creep into?” + </p> + <p> + “Up those stairs and into my room with you!” said Crispin shortly. “I will + try to head them off. Come, man, stir yourself; they are here.” + </p> + <p> + Then, as with nimble alacrity Hogan obeyed him and slipped from the room, + he turned to the lad, who had been a silent spectator of what had passed. + From the pocket of his threadbare doublet he drew a pack of greasy playing + cards. + </p> + <p> + “To table,” he said laconically. + </p> + <p> + But the boy, comprehending what was required of him, drew back at sight of + those cards as one might shrink from a thing unclean. + </p> + <p> + “Never!” he began. “I'll not defile—” + </p> + <p> + “To table, fool!” thundered Crispin, with a vehemence few men could have + withstood. “Is this a time for Presbyterian scruples? To table, and help a + me play this game, or, by the living God, I'll—” Without completing + his threat he leaned forward until Kenneth felt his hot, wine-laden breath + upon his cheek. Cowed by his words, his gesture, and above all, his + glance, the lad drew up a chair, mumbling in explanation—intended as + an excuse to himself for his weakness—that he submitted since a + man's life was at stake. + </p> + <p> + Opposite him Galliard resumed his seat with a mocking smile that made him + wince. Taking up the cards, he flung a portion of them to the boy, whilst + those he retained he spread fanwise in his hand as if about to play. + Silently Kenneth copied his actions. + </p> + <p> + Nearer and louder grew the sounds of the approach, lights flashed before + the window, and the two men, feigning to play, sat on and waited. + </p> + <p> + “Have a care, Master Stewart,” growled Crispin sourly, then in a louder + voice—for his quick eye had caught a glimpse of a face that watched + them from the window—“I play the King of Spades!” he cried, with + meaning look. + </p> + <p> + A blow was struck upon the door, and with it came the command to “Open in + the King's name!” Softly Sir Crispin rapped out an oath. Then he rose, and + with a last look of warning to Kenneth, he went to open. And as he had + greeted Hogan he now greeted the crowd mainly of soldiers—that + surged about the threshold. + </p> + <p> + “Sirs, why this ado? Hath the Sultan Oliver descended upon us?” + </p> + <p> + In one hand he still held his cards, the other he rested upon the edge of + the open door. It was a young ensign who stood forward to answer him. + </p> + <p> + “One of Lord Middleton's officers hath done a man to death not half an + hour agone; he is an Irishman Captain Hogan by name.” + </p> + <p> + “Hogan—Hogan?” repeated Crispin, after the manner of one who fumbles + in his memory. “Ah, yes—an Irishman with a grey head and a hot + temper. And he is dead, you say?” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, he has done the killing.” + </p> + <p> + “That I can better understand. 'Tis not the first time, I'll be sworn.” + </p> + <p> + “But it will be the last, Sir Crispin.” + </p> + <p> + “Like enough. The King is severe since we crossed the Border.” Then in a + brisker tone: “I thank you for bringing me this news,” said he, “and I + regret that in my poor house there be naught I can offer you wherein to + drink His Majesty's health ere you proceed upon your search. Give you good + night, sir.” And by drawing back a pace he signified his wish to close the + door and be quit of them. + </p> + <p> + “We thought,” faltered the young officer, “that—that perchance you + would assist us by—” + </p> + <p> + “Assist you!” roared Crispin, with a fine assumption of anger. “Assist you + take a man? Sink me, sir, I would have you know I am a soldier, not a + tipstaff!” + </p> + <p> + The ensign's cheeks grew crimson under the sting of that veiled insult. + </p> + <p> + “There are some, Sir Crispin, that have yet another name for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Like enough—when I am not by,” sneered Crispin. “The world is full + of foul tongues in craven heads. But, sirs, the night air is chill and you + are come inopportunely, for, as you'll perceive, I was at play. Haply + you'll suffer me to close the door.” + </p> + <p> + “A moment, Sir Crispin. We must search this house. He is believed to have + come this way.” + </p> + <p> + Crispin yawned. “I will spare you the trouble. You may take it from me + that he could not be here without my knowledge. I have been in this room + these two hours past.” + </p> + <p> + “Twill not suffice,” returned the officer doggedly. “We must satisfy + ourselves.” + </p> + <p> + “Satisfy yourselves?” echoed the other, in tones of deep amazement. “What + better satisfaction can I afford you than my word? 'Swounds, sir + jackanapes,” he added, in a roar that sent the lieutenant back a pace as + though he had been struck, “am I to take it that your errand is a + trumped-up business to affront me? First you invite me to turn tipstaff, + then you add your cursed innuendoes of what people say of me, and now you + end by doubting me! You must satisfy yourself!” he thundered, waxing + fiercer at every word. “Linger another moment on that threshold, and d——n + me, sir, I'll give you satisfaction of another flavour! Be off!” + </p> + <p> + Before that hurricane of passion the ensign recoiled, despite himself. + </p> + <p> + “I will appeal to General Montgomery,” he threatened. + </p> + <p> + “Appeal to the devil! Had you come hither with your errand in a seemly + fashion you had found my door thrown wide in welcome, and I had received + you courteously. As it is, sir, the cause for complaint is on my side, and + complain I will. We shall see whether the King permits an old soldier who + has followed the fortunes of his family these eighteen years to be flouted + by a malapert bantam of yesterday's brood!” + </p> + <p> + The subaltern paused in dismay. Some demur there was in the gathered + crowd. Then the officer fell back a pace, and consulted an elderly trooper + at his elbow. The trooper was of opinion that the fugitive must have gone + farther. Moreover, he could not think, from what Sir Crispin had said, + that it would have been possible for Hogan to have entered the house. With + this, and realizing that much trouble and possible loss of time must + result from Sir Crispin's obstinacy, did they attempt to force a way into + the house, and bethinking himself, also, maybe, how well this rascally + ruffler stood with Lord Middleton, the ensign determined to withdraw, and + to seek elsewhere. + </p> + <p> + And so he took his leave with a venomous glance, and a parting threat to + bring the matter to the King's ears, upon which Galliard slammed the door + before he had finished. + </p> + <p> + There was a curious smile on Crispin's face as he walked slowly to the + table, and resumed his seat. + </p> + <p> + “Master Stewart,” he whispered, as he spread his cards anew, “the comedy + is not yet played out. There is a face glued to the window at this moment, + and I make little doubt that for the next hour or so we shall be spied + upon. That pretty fellow was born to be a thief-taker.” + </p> + <p> + The boy turned a glance of sour reproof upon his companion. He had not + stirred from his chair while Crispin had been at the door. + </p> + <p> + “You lied to them,” he said at last. + </p> + <p> + “Sh! Not so loud, sweet youth,” was the answer that lost nothing of menace + by being subdued. “Tomorrow, if you please, I will account to you for + offending your delicate soul by suggesting a falsehood in your presence. + To-night we have a man's life to save, and that, I think, is work enough. + Come, Master Stewart, we are being watched. Let us resume our game.” + </p> + <p> + His eye, fixed in cold command upon the boy, compelled obedience. And the + lad, more out of awe of that glance than out of any desire to contribute + to the saving of Hogan, mutely consented to keep up this pretence. But in + his soul he rebelled. He had been reared in an atmosphere of honourable + and religious bigotry. Hogan was to him a coarse ruffler; an evil man of + the sword; such a man as he abhorred and accounted a disgrace to any army—particularly + to an army launched upon England under the auspices of the Solemn League + and Covenant. + </p> + <p> + Hogan had been guilty of an act of brutality; he had killed a man; and + Kenneth deemed himself little better, since he assisted in harbouring + instead of discovering him, as he held to be his duty. But 'neath the + suasion of Galliard's inexorable eye he sat limp and docile, vowing to + himself that on the morrow he would lay the matter before Lord Middleton, + and thus not only endeavour to make amends for his present guilty silence, + but rid himself also of the companionship of this ruffianly Sir Crispin, + to whom no doubt a hempen justice would be meted. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, he sat on and left his companion's occasional sallies + unanswered. In the street men stirred and lanthorns gleamed fitfully, + whilst ever and anon a face surmounted by a morion would be pressed + against the leaded panes of the window. + </p> + <p> + Thus an hour wore itself out during which poor Hogan sat above, alone with + his anxiety and unsavoury thoughts. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. ARCADES AMBO + </h2> + <p> + Towards midnight at last Sir Crispin flung down his cards and rose. It was + close upon an hour and a half since Hogan's advent. In the streets the + sounds had gradually died down, and peace seemed to reign again in + Penrith. Yet was Sir Crispin cautious—for to be cautious and + mistrustful of appearances was the lesson life had taught him. + </p> + <p> + “Master Stewart,” said he, “it grows late, and I doubt me you would be + abed. Give you good night!” + </p> + <p> + The lad rose. A moment he paused, hesitating, then— + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow, Sir Crispin—” he began. But Crispin cut him short. + </p> + <p> + “Leave to-morrow till it dawn, my friend. Give you good night. Take one of + those noisome tapers with you, and go.” + </p> + <p> + In sullen silence the boy took up one of the candle-bearing bottles and + passed out through the door leading to the stairs. + </p> + <p> + For a moment Crispin remained standing by the table, and in that moment + the expression of his face was softened. A momentary regret of his + treatment of the boy stirred in him. Master Stewart might be a milksop, + but Crispin accounted him leastways honest, and had a kindness for him in + spite of all. He crossed to the window, and throwing it wide he leaned + out, as if to breathe the cool night air, what time he hummed the refrain + of `Rub-a-dub-dub' for the edification of any chance listeners. + </p> + <p> + For a half-hour he lingered there, and for all that he used the occasion + to let his mind stray over many a theme, his eyes were alert for the least + movement among the shadows of the street. Reassured at last that the house + was no longer being watched, he drew back, and closed the lattice. + </p> + <p> + Upstairs he found the Irishman seated in dejection upon his bed, awaiting + him. + </p> + <p> + “Soul of my body!” cried Hogan ruefully, “I was never nearer being afraid + in my life.” + </p> + <p> + Crispin laughed softly for answer, and besought of him the tale of what + had passed. + </p> + <p> + “Tis simple enough, faith,” said Hogan coolly. “The landlord of The Angel + hath a daughter maybe 'twas after her he named his inn—who owns a + pair of the most seductive eyes that ever a man saw perdition in. She + hath, moreover, a taste for dalliance, and my brave looks and martial + trappings did for her what her bold eyes had done for me. We were becoming + the sweetest friends, when, like an incarnate fiend, that loutish clown, + her lover, sweeps down upon us, and, with more jealousy than wit, struck + me—struck me, Harry Hogan! Soul of my body, think of it, Cris!” And + he grew red with anger at the recollection. “I took him by the collar of + his mean smock and flung him into the kennel—the fittest bed he ever + lay in. Had he remained there it had been well for him; but the fool, + accounting himself affronted, came up to demand satisfaction. I gave it + him, and plague on it—he's dead!” + </p> + <p> + “An ugly tale,” was Crispin's sour comment. + </p> + <p> + “Ugly, maybe,” returned Hogan, spreading out his palms, “but what choice + had I? The fool came at me, bilbo in hand, and I was forced to draw.' + </p> + <p> + “But not to slay, Hogan!” + </p> + <p> + “Twas an accident. Sink me, it was! I sought his sword-arm; but the light + was bad, and my point went through his chest instead.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment Crispin stood frowning, then his brow cleared, as though he + had put the matter from him. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well—since he's dead, there's an end to it.” + </p> + <p> + “Heaven rest his soul!” muttered the Irishman, crossing himself piously. + And with that he dismissed the subject of the great wrong that through + folly he had wrought—the wanton destruction of a man's life, and the + poisoning of a woman's with a remorse that might be everlasting. + </p> + <p> + “It will tax our wits to get you out of Penrith,” said Crispin. Then, + turning and looking into the Irishman's great, good-humoured face—“I + am sorry you leave us, Hogan,” he added. + </p> + <p> + “Not so am I,” quoth Hogan with a shrug. “Such a march as this is little + to my taste. Bah! Charles Stuart or Oliver Cromwell, 'tis all one to me. + What care I whether King or Commonwealth prevail? Shall Harry Hogan be the + better or the richer under one than under the other? Oddslife, Cris, I + have trailed a pike or handled a sword in well-nigh every army in Europe. + I know more of the great art of war than all the King's generals rolled + into one. Think you, then, I can rest content with a miserable company of + horse when plunder is forbidden, and even our beggarly pay doubtful? + Whilst, should things go ill—as well they may, faith, with an army + ruled by parsons—the wage will be a swift death on field or gallows, + or a lingering one in the plantations, as fell to the lot of those poor + wretches Noll drove into England after Dunbar. Soul of my body, it is not + thus that I had looked to fare when I took service at Perth. I had looked + for plunder, rich and plentiful plunder, according to the usages of + warfare, as a fitting reward for a toilsome march and the perils gone + through. + </p> + <p> + “Thus I know war, and for this have I followed the trade these twenty + years. Instead, we have thirty thousand men, marching to battle as prim + and orderly as a parcel of acolytes in a Corpus-Christi procession. 'Twas + not so bad in Scotland haply because the country holds naught a man may + profitably plunder—but since we have crossed the Border, 'slife, + they'll hang you if you steal so much as a kiss from a wench in passing.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, true,” laughed Crispin, “the Second Charles hath an over-tender + stomach. He will not allow that we are marching through an enemy's + country; he insists that England is his kingdom, forgetting that he has + yet to conquer it, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Was it not also his father's kingdom?” broke in the impetuous Hogan. “Yet + times are sorely changed since we followed the fortunes of the Martyr. In + those days you might help yourself to a capon, a horse, a wench, or any + other trifle of the enemy's, without ever a word of censure or a question + asked. Why, man, it is but two days since His Majesty had a poor devil + hanged at Kendal for laying violent hands upon a pullet. Pox on it, Cris, + my gorge rises at the thought! When I saw that wretch strung up, I swore + to fall behind at the earliest opportunity, and to-night's affair makes + this imperative.” + </p> + <p> + “And what may your plans be?” asked Crispin. + </p> + <p> + “War is my trade, not a diversion, as it is with Wilmot and Buckingham and + the other pretty gentlemen of our train. And since the King's army is like + to yield me no profit, faith, I'll turn me to the Parliament's. If I get + out of Penrith with my life, I'll shave my beard and cut my hair to a + comely and godly length; don a cuckoldy steeple hat and a black coat, and + carry my sword to Cromwell with a line of text.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Crispin fell to pondering. Noting this, and imagining that he guessed + aright the reason: + </p> + <p> + “I take it, Cris,” he put in, keenly glancing at the other, “that you are + much of my mind?” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe I am,” replied Crispin carelessly. + </p> + <p> + “Why, then,” cried Hogan, “need we part company?” + </p> + <p> + There was a sudden eagerness in his tone, born of the admiration in which + this rough soldier of fortune held one whom he accounted his better in + that same harsh trade. But Galliard answered coldly: + </p> + <p> + “You forget, Harry.” + </p> + <p> + “Not so! Surely on Cromwell's side your object—” + </p> + <p> + “T'sh! I have well considered. My fortunes are bound up with the King's. + In his victory alone lies profit for me; not the profit of pillage, Hogan, + but the profit of those broad lands that for nigh upon twenty years have + been in usurping hands. The profit I look for, Hogan, is my restoration to + Castle Marleigh, and of this my only hope lies in the restoration of King + Charles. If the King doth not prevail—which God forfend!—why, + then, I can but die. I shall have naught left to hope for from life. So + you see, good Hogan,” he ended with a regretful smile, “my going with you + is not to be dreamed of.” + </p> + <p> + Still the Irishman urged him, and a good half-hour did he devote to it, + but in vain. Realizing at last the futility of his endeavours, he sighed + and moved uneasily in his chair, whilst the broad, tanned face was clouded + with regret. Crispin saw this, and approaching him, he laid a hand upon + his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “I had counted upon your help to clear the Ashburns from Castle Marleigh + and to aid me in my grim work when the time is ripe. But if you go—” + </p> + <p> + “Faith, I may aid you yet. Who shall say?” Then of a sudden there crept + into the voice of this hardened pike-trader a note of soft concern. “Think + you there be danger to yourself in remaining?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Danger? To me?” echoed Crispin. + </p> + <p> + “Aye—for having harboured me. That whelp of Montgomery's Foot + suspects you.” + </p> + <p> + “Suspects? Am I a man of straw to be overset by a breath of suspicion?” + </p> + <p> + “There is your lieutenant, Kenneth Stewart.” + </p> + <p> + “Who has been a party to your escape, and whose only course is therefore + silence, lest he set a noose about his own neck. Come, Harry,” he added, + briskly, changing his manner, “the night wears on, and we have your safety + to think of.” + </p> + <p> + Hogan rose with a sigh. + </p> + <p> + “Give me a horse,” said he, “and by God's grace tomorrow shall find me in + Cromwell's camp. Heaven prosper and reward you, Cris.” + </p> + <p> + “We must find you clothes more fitting than these—a coat more staid + and better attuned to the Puritan part you are to play.” + </p> + <p> + “Where have you such a coat?” + </p> + <p> + “My lieutenant has. He affects the godly black, from a habit taken in that + Presbyterian Scotland of his.” + </p> + <p> + “But I am twice his bulk!” + </p> + <p> + “Better a tight coat to your back than a tight rope to your neck, Harry. + Wait.” + </p> + <p> + Taking a taper, he left the room, to return a moment later with the coat + that Kenneth had worn that day, and which he had abstracted from the + sleeping lad's chamber. + </p> + <p> + “Off with your doublet,” he commanded, and as he spoke he set himself to + empty the pocket of Kenneth's garment; a handkerchief and a few papers he + found in them, and these he tossed carelessly on the bed. Next he assisted + the Irishman to struggle into the stolen coat. + </p> + <p> + “May the Lord forgive my sins,” groaned Hogan, as he felt the cloth + straining upon his back and cramping his limbs. “May He forgive me, and + see me safely out of Penrith and into Cromwell's camp, and never again + will I resent the resentment of a clown whose sweetheart I have made too + free with.” + </p> + <p> + “Pluck that feather from your hat,” said Crispin. + </p> + <p> + Hogan obeyed him with a sigh. + </p> + <p> + “Truly it is written in Scripture that man in his time plays many parts. + Who would have thought to see Harry Hogan playing the Puritan?” + </p> + <p> + “Unless you improve your acquaintance with Scripture you are not like to + play it long,” laughed Crispin, as he surveyed him. “There, man, you'll do + well enough. Your coat is somewhat tight in the back, somewhat short in + the skirt; but neither so tight nor so short but that it may be preferred + to a winding-sheet, and that is the alternative, Harry.” + </p> + <p> + Hogan replied by roundly cursing the coat and his own lucklessness. That + done—and in no measured terms—he pronounced himself ready to + set out, whereupon Crispin led the way below once more, and out into a hut + that did service as a stable. + </p> + <p> + By the light of a lanthorn he saddled one of the two nags that stood + there, and led it into the yard. Opening the door that abutted on to a + field beyond, he bade Hogan mount. He held his stirrup for him, and + cutting short the Irishman's voluble expressions of gratitude, he gave him + “God speed,” and urged him to use all dispatch in setting as great a + distance as possible betwixt himself and Penrith before the dawn. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. THE LETTER + </h2> + <p> + It was with a countenance sadly dejected that Crispin returned to his + chamber and sate himself wearily upon the bed. With elbows on his knees + and chin in his palms he stared straight before him, the usual steely + brightness of his grey eyes dulled by the despondency that sat upon his + face and drew deep furrows down his fine brow. + </p> + <p> + With a sigh he rose at last and idly fingered the papers he had taken from + the pocket of Kenneth's coat. As he did so his glance was arrested by the + signature at the foot of one. “Gregory Ashburn” was the name he read. + </p> + <p> + Ashen grew his cheeks as his eyes fastened upon that name, whilst the + hand, to which no peril ever brought a tremor, shook now like an aspen. + Feverishly he spread the letter on his knee, and with a glance, from dull + that it had been, grown of a sudden fierce and cruel, he read the + contents. + </p> + <p> + DEAR KENNETH, + </p> + <p> + Again I write in the hope that I may prevail upon you to quit Scotland and + your attachment to a king, whose fortunes prosper not, nor can prosper. + Cynthia is pining, and if you tarry longer from Castle Marleigh she must + perforce think you but a laggard lover. Than this I have no more powerful + argument wherewith to draw you from Perth to Sheringham, but this I think + should prevail where others have failed me. We await you then, and whilst + we wait we daily drink your health. Cynthia commends herself to your + memory as doth my brother, and soon we hope to welcome you at Castle + Marleigh. Believe, my dear Kenneth, that whilst I am, I am yours in + affection. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + GREGORY ASHBURN +</pre> + <p> + Twice Crispin read the letter through. Then with set teeth and straining + eyes he sat lost in thought. + </p> + <p> + Here indeed was a strange chance! This boy whom he had met at Perth, and + enrolled in his company, was a friend of Ashburn's—the lover of + Cynthia. Who might this Cynthia be? + </p> + <p> + Long and deep were his ponderings upon the unfathomable ways of Fate—for + Fate he now believed was here at work to help him, revealing herself by + means of this sign even at the very moment when he decried his luck. In + memory he reviewed his meeting with the lad in the yard of Perth Castle a + fortnight ago. Something in the boy's bearing, in his air, had caught + Crispin's eye. He had looked him over, then approached, and bluntly asked + his name and on what business he was come there. The youth had answered + him civilly enough that he was Kenneth Stewart of Bailienochy, and that he + was come to offer his sword to the King. Thereupon he had interested + himself in the lad's behalf and had gained him a lieutenancy in his own + company. Why he was attracted to a youth on whom never before had he set + eyes was a matter that puzzled him not a little. Now he held, he thought, + the explanation of it. It was the way of Fate. + </p> + <p> + This boy was sent into his life by a Heaven that at last showed compassion + for the deep wrongs he had suffered; sent him as a key wherewith, should + the need occur, to open him the gates of Castle Marleigh. + </p> + <p> + In long strides he paced the chamber, turning the matter over in his mind. + Aye, he would use the lad should the need arise. Why scruple? Had he ever + received aught but disdain and scorn at the hands of Kenneth. + </p> + <p> + Day was breaking ere he sought his bed, and already the sun was up when at + length he fell into a troubled sleep, vowing that he would mend his wild + ways and seek to gain the boy's favour against the time when he might have + need of him. + </p> + <p> + When later he restored the papers to Kenneth, explaining to what use he + had put the coat, he refrained from questioning him concerning Gregory + Ashburn. The docility of his mood on that occasion came as a surprise to + Kenneth, who set it down to Sir Crispin's desire to conciliate him into + silence touching the harbouring of Hogan. In that same connexion Crispin + showed him calmly and clearly that he could not now inform without + involving himself to an equally dangerous extent. And partly through the + fear of this, partly won over by Crispin's persuasions, the lad determined + to hold his peace. + </p> + <p> + Nor had he cause to regret it thereafter, for throughout that tedious + march he found his roystering companion singularly meek and kindly. Indeed + he seemed a different man. His old swagger and roaring bluster + disappeared; he drank less, diced less, blasphemed less, and stormed less + than in the old days before the halt at Penrith; but rode, a silent, + thoughtful figure, so self-contained and of so godly a mien as would have + rejoiced the heart of the sourest Puritan. The wild tantivy boy had + vanished, and the sobriquet of “Tavern Knight” was fast becoming a + misnomer. + </p> + <p> + Kenneth felt drawn more towards him, deeming him a penitent that had seen + at last the error of his ways. And thus things prevailed until the almost + triumphal entry into the city of Worcester on the twenty-third of August. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. AT THE SIGN OF THE MITRE + </h2> + <p> + For a week after the coming of the King to Worcester, Crispin's relations + with Kenneth steadily improved. By an evil chance, however, there befell + on the eve of the battle that which renewed with heightened intensity the + enmity which the lad had fostered for him, but which lately he had almost + overcome. + </p> + <p> + The scene of this happening—leastways of that which led to it—was + The Mitre Inn, in the High Street of Worcester. + </p> + <p> + In the common-room one day sat as merry a company of carousers as ever + gladdened the soul of an old tantivy boy. Youthful ensigns of Lesley's + Scottish horse—caring never a fig for the Solemn League and Covenant—rubbed + shoulders with beribboned Cavaliers of Lord Talbot's company; gay young + lairds of Pitscottie's Highlanders, unmindful of the Kirk's harsh + commandments of sobriety, sat cheek by jowl with rakehelly officers of + Dalzell's Brigade, and pledged the King in many a stoup of canary and many + a can of stout March ale. + </p> + <p> + On every hand spirits ran high and laughter filled the chamber, the mirth + of some having its source in a neighbour's quip, that of others having no + source at all save in the wine they had taken. + </p> + <p> + At one table sat a gentleman of the name of Faversham, who had ridden on + the previous night in that ill-fated camisado that should have resulted in + the capture of Cromwell at Spetchley, but which, owing to a betrayal—when + was a Stuart not betrayed and sold?—miscarried. He was relating to + the group about him the details of that disaster. + </p> + <p> + “Oddslife, gentlemen,” he was exclaiming, “I tell you that, but for that + roaring dog, Sir Crispin Galliard, the whole of Middleton's regiment had + been cut to pieces. There we stood on Red Hill, trapped as ever fish in a + net, with the whole of Lilburne's men rising out of the ground to enclose + and destroy us. A living wall of steel it was, and on every hand the call + to surrender. There was dismay in my heart, as I'll swear there was dismay + in the heart of every man of us, and I make little doubt, gentlemen, that + with but scant pressing we had thrown down our arms, so disheartened were + we by that ambush. Then of a sudden there arose above the clatter of steel + and Puritan cries, a loud, clear, defiant shout of 'Hey for Cavaliers!'” + </p> + <p> + “I turned, and there in his stirrups stood that madman Galliard, waving + his sword and holding his company together with the power of his will, his + courage, and his voice. The sight of him was like wine to our blood. 'Into + them, gentlemen; follow me!' he roared. And then, with a hurricane of + oaths, he hurled his company against the pike-men. The blow was + irresistible, and above the din of it came that voice of his again: 'Up, + Cavaliers! Slash the cuckolds to ribbons, gentlemen!' The cropears gave + way, and like a river that has burst its dam, we poured through the + opening in their ranks and headed back for Worcester.” + </p> + <p> + There was a roar of voices as Faversham ended, and around that table “The + Tavern Knight” was for some minutes the only toast. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile half a dozen merry-makers at a table hard by, having drunk + themselves out of all sense of fitness, were occupied in baiting a + pale-faced lad, sombrely attired, who seemed sadly out of place in that + wild company—indeed, he had been better advised to have avoided it. + </p> + <p> + The matter had been set afoot by a pleasantry of Ensign Tyler's, of + Massey's dragoons, with a playful allusion to a letter in a feminine hand + which Kenneth had let fall, and which Tyler had restored to him. Quip had + followed quip until in their jests they transcended all bounds. Livid with + passion and unable to endure more, Kenneth had sprung up. + </p> + <p> + “Damnation!” he blazed, bringing his clenched hand down upon the table. + “One more of your foul jests and he that utters it shall answer to me!” + </p> + <p> + The suddenness of his action and the fierceness of his tone and gesture—a + fierceness so grotesquely ill-attuned to his slender frame and clerkly + attire left the company for a moment speechless with amazement. Then a + mighty burst of laughter greeted him, above which sounded the shrill voice + of Tyler, who held his sides, and down whose crimson cheeks two tears of + mirth were trickling. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, fie, fie, good Master Stewart!” he gasped. “What think you would the + reverend elders say to this bellicose attitude and this profane tongue of + yours?” + </p> + <p> + “And what think you would the King say to this drunken poltroonery of + yours?” was the hot unguarded answer. “Poltroonery, I say,” he repeated, + embracing the whole company in his glance. + </p> + <p> + The laughter died down as Kenneth's insult penetrated their befuddled + minds. An instant's lull there was, like the lull in nature that precedes + a clap of thunder. Then, as with one accord, a dozen of them bore down + upon him. + </p> + <p> + It was a vile thing they did, perhaps; but then they had drunk deep, and + Kenneth Stewart counted no friend amongst them. In an instant they had + him, kicking and biting, on the floor; his doublet was torn rudely open, + and from his breast Tyler plucked the letter whose existence had led to + this shameless scene. + </p> + <p> + But ere he could so much as unfold it, a voice rang harsh and imperative: + </p> + <p> + “Hold!” + </p> + <p> + Pausing, they turned to confront a tall, gaunt man in a leather jerkin and + a broad hat decked by goose-quill, who came slowly forward. + </p> + <p> + “The Tavern Knight,” cried one, and the shout of “A rouse for the hero of + Red Hill!” was taken up on every hand. For despite his sour visage and + ungracious ways there was not a roysterer in the Royal army to whom he was + not dear. + </p> + <p> + But as he now advanced, the coldness of his bearing and the forbidding set + of his face froze them into silence. + </p> + <p> + “Give me that letter,” he demanded sternly of Tyler. + </p> + <p> + Taken aback, Tyler hesitated for a second, whilst Crispin waited with hand + outstretched. Vainly did he look round for sign or word of help or + counsel. None was afforded him by his fellow-revellers, who one and all + hung back in silence. + </p> + <p> + Seeing himself thus unsupported, and far from wishing to try conclusions + with Galliard, Tyler with an ill grace surrendered the paper; and, with a + pleasant bow and a word of thanks, delivered with never so slight a + saturnine smile, Crispin turned on his heel and left the tavern as + abruptly as he had entered it. + </p> + <p> + The din it was that had attracted him as he passed by on his way to the + Episcopal Palace where a part of his company was on guard duty. Thither he + now pursued his way, bearing with him the letter which so opportunely he + had become possessed of, and which he hoped might throw further light upon + Kenneth's relations with the Ashburns. + </p> + <p> + But as he reached the palace there was a quick step behind him, and a hand + fell upon his arm. He turned. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, 'tis you, Kenneth,” he muttered, and would have passed on, but the + boy's hand took him by the sleeve. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Crispin,” said he, “I came to thank you.” + </p> + <p> + “I have done nothing to deserve your thanks. Give you good evening.” And + he made shift to mount the steps when again Kenneth detained him. + </p> + <p> + “You are forgetting the letter, Sir Crispin,” he ventured, and he held out + his hand to receive it. + </p> + <p> + Galliard saw the gesture, and for a moment it crossed his mind in + self-reproach that the part he chose to play was that of a bully. A second + he hesitated. Should he surrender the letter unread, and fight on without + the aid of the information it might bring him? Then the thought of Ashburn + and of his own deep wrongs that cried out for vengeance, overcame and + stifled the generous impulse. His manner grew yet more frozen as he made + answer: + </p> + <p> + “There has been too much ado about this letter to warrant my so lightly + parting with it. First I will satisfy myself that I have been no + unconscious abettor of treason. You shall have your letter tomorrow, + Master Stewart.” + </p> + <p> + “Treason!” echoed Kenneth. And before that cold rebuff of Crispin's his + mood changed from conciliatory to resentful—resentful towards the + fates that made him this man's debtor. + </p> + <p> + “I assure you, on my honour,” said he, mastering his feelings, “that this + is but a letter from the lady I hope to make my wife. Assuredly, sir, you + will not now insist upon reading it.” + </p> + <p> + “Assuredly I shall.” + </p> + <p> + “But, sir—” + </p> + <p> + “Master Stewart, I am resolved, and were you to talk from now till + doomsday, you would not turn me from my purpose. So good night to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir Crispin,” cried the boy, his voice quavering with passion, “while I + live you shall not read that letter!” + </p> + <p> + “Hoity-toity, sir! What words! What heroics! And yet you would have me + believe this paper innocent?” + </p> + <p> + “As innocent as the hand that penned it, and if I so oppose your reading + it, it is because thus much I owe her. Believe me, sir,” he added, his + accents returning to a beseeching key, “when again I swear that it is no + more than such a letter any maid may write her lover. I thought that you + had understood all this when you rescued me from those bullies at The + Mitre. I thought that what you did was a noble and generous deed. Instead—” + The lad paused. + </p> + <p> + “Continue, sir,” Galliard requested coldly. “Instead?” + </p> + <p> + “There can be no instead, Sir Crispin. You will not mar so good an action + now. You will give me my letter, will you not?” + </p> + <p> + Callous though he was, Crispin winced. The breeding of earlier days—so + sadly warped, alas!—cried out within him against the lie that he was + acting by pretending to suspect treason in that woman's pothooks. + Instincts of gentility and generosity long dead took life again, + resuscitated by that call of conscience. He was conquered. + </p> + <p> + “There, take your letter, boy, and plague me no more,” he growled, as he + held it out to Kenneth. And without waiting for reply or acknowledgment, + he turned on his heel, and entered the palace. But he had yielded overlate + to leave a good impression and, as Kenneth turned away, it was with a + curse upon Galliard, for whom his detestation seemed to increase at every + step. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. AFTER WORCESTER FIELD + </h2> + <p> + The morn of the third of September—that date so propitious to + Cromwell, so disastrous to Charles—found Crispin the centre of a + company of gentlemen in battle-harness, assembled at The Mitre Inn. For a + toast he gave them “The damnation of all crop-ears.” + </p> + <p> + “Sirs,” quoth he, “a fair beginning to a fair day. God send the evening + find us as merry.” + </p> + <p> + It was not to be his good fortune, however, to be in the earlier work of + the day. Until afternoon he was kept within the walls of Worcester, + chafing to be where hard knocks were being dealt—with Montgomery at + Powick Bridge, or with Pittscottie on Bunn's Hill. But he was forced to + hold his mood in curb, and wait until Charles and his advisers should + elect to make the general attack. + </p> + <p> + It came at last, and with it came the disastrous news that Montgomery was + routed, and Pittscottie in full retreat, whilst Dalzell had surrendered, + and Keith was taken. Then was it that the main body of the Royal army + formed up at the Sidbury Gate, and Crispin found himself in the centre, + which was commanded by the King in person. In the brilliant charge that + followed there was no more conspicuous figure, no voice rang louder in + encouragement to the men. For the first time that day Cromwell's Ironsides + gave back before the Royalists, who in that fierce, irresistible charge, + swept all before them until they had reached the battery on Perry Wood, + and driven the Roundheads from it hell-to-leather. + </p> + <p> + It was a glorious moment, a moment in which the fortunes of the day hung + in the balance; the turn of the tide it seemed to them at last. + </p> + <p> + Crispin was among the first to reach the guns, and with a great shout of + “Hurrah for Cavaliers!” he had cut down two gunners that yet lingered. His + cry lacked not an echo, and a deafening cheer broke upon the clamorous air + as the Royalists found themselves masters of the position. Up the hill on + either side pressed the Duke of Hamilton and the Earl of Derby to support + the King. It but remained for Lesley's Scottish horse to follow and + complete the rout of the Parliamentarian forces. Had they moved at that + supreme moment who shall say what had been the issue of Worcester field? + But they never stirred, and the Royalists waiting on Perry Wood cursed + Lesley for a foul traitor who had sold his King. + </p> + <p> + With bitterness did they then realize that their great effort was to be + barren, their gallant charge in vain. Unsupported, their position grew + fast untenable. + </p> + <p> + And presently, when Cromwell had gathered his scattered Ironsides, that + gallant host was driven fighting, down the hill and back to the shelter of + Worcester. With the Roundheads pressing hotly upon them they gained at + last the Sidbury Gate, but only to find that an overset ammunition wagon + blocked the entrance. In this plight, and without attempting to move it, + they faced about to make a last stand against the Puritan onslaught. + </p> + <p> + Charles had flung himself from his charger and climbed the obstruction, + and in this he was presently followed by others, amongst whom was Crispin. + </p> + <p> + In the High Street Galliard came upon the King, mounted on a fresh horse, + addressing a Scottish regiment of foot. The soldiers had thrown down their + arms and stood sullenly before him, refusing to obey his command to take + them up again and help him attempt, even at that late hour, to retrieve + the fortunes of the day. Crispin looked on in scorn and loathing. His + passions awakened at the sight of Lesley's inaction needed but this last + breath to fan it into a very blaze of wrath. And what he said to them + touching themselves, their country, and the Kirk Committee that had made + sheep of them, was so bitter and contemptuous that none but men in the + most parlous and pitiable of conditions could have suffered it. + </p> + <p> + He was still hurling vituperations at them when Colonel Pride with a troop + of Parliamentarian horse—having completely overcome the resistance + at the Sidbury Gate—rode into the town. At the news of this, Crispin + made a last appeal to the infantry. + </p> + <p> + “Afoot, you Scottish curs!” he thundered. “Would you rather be cut to + pieces as you stand? Up, you dogs, and since you know not how to live, die + at least without shame!” + </p> + <p> + But in vain did he rail. In sullen quiet they remained, their weapons on + the ground before them. And then, as Crispin was turning away to see to + his own safety, the King rode up again, and again he sought to revive the + courage that was dead in those Scottish hearts. If they would not stand by + him, he cried at last, let them slay him there, sooner than that he should + be taken captive to perish on the scaffold. + </p> + <p> + While he was still urging them, Crispin unceremoniously seized his bridle. + </p> + <p> + “Will you stand here until you are taken, sire?” he cried. “Leave them, + and look to your safety.” + </p> + <p> + Charles turned a wondering eye upon the resolute, battle-grimed face of + the man that thus addressed him. A faint, sad smile parted his lips. + </p> + <p> + “You are right, sir,” he made answer. “Attend me.” And turning about he + rode down a side street with Galliard following closely in his wake. + </p> + <p> + With the intention of doffing his armour and changing his apparel, he made + for the house in New Street where he had been residing. As they drew up + before the door, Crispin, chancing to look over his shoulder, rapped out + an oath. + </p> + <p> + “Hasten, sire,” he exclaimed, “here is a portion of Colonel's Pride's + troop.” + </p> + <p> + The King looked round, and at sight of the Parliamentarians, “It is + ended,” he muttered despairingly. But already Crispin had sprung from his + horse. + </p> + <p> + “Dismount, sire,” he roared, and he assisted him so vigorously as to + appear to drag him out of the saddle. + </p> + <p> + “Which way?” demanded Charles, looking helplessly from left to right. + “Which way?” + </p> + <p> + But Crispin's quick mind had already shaped a plan. Seizing the royal arm—for + who in such straits would deal ceremoniously?—he thrust the King + across the threshold, and, following, closed the door and shot its only + bolt. But the shout set up by the Puritans announced to them that their + movement had been detected. + </p> + <p> + The King turned upon Sir Crispin, and in the half-light of the passage + wherein they stood Galliard made out the frown that bent the royal brows. + </p> + <p> + “And now?” demanded Charles, a note almost of reproach in his voice. + </p> + <p> + “And now begone, sire,” returned the knight. “Begone ere they come.” + </p> + <p> + “Begone?” echoed Charles, in amazement. “But whither, sir? Whither and + how?” + </p> + <p> + His last words were almost drowned in the din without, as the Roundheads + pulled up before the house. + </p> + <p> + “By the back, sire,” was the impatient answer. “Through door or window—as + best you can. The back must overlook the Corn-Market; that is your way. + But hasten—in God's name hasten!—ere they bethink them of it + and cut off your retreat.” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke a violent blow shook the door. + </p> + <p> + “Quick, Your Majesty,” he implored, in a frenzy. + </p> + <p> + Charles moved to depart, then paused. “But you, sir? Do you not come with + me?” + </p> + <p> + Crispin stamped his foot, and turned a face livid with impatience upon his + King. In that moment all distinction of rank lay forgotten. + </p> + <p> + “I must remain,” he answered, speaking quickly. “That crazy door will not + hold for a second once a stout man sets his shoulder to it. After the door + they will find me, and for your sake I trust I may prove of stouter stuff. + Fare you well, sire,” he ended in a softer tone. “God guard Your Majesty + and send you happier days.” + </p> + <p> + And, bending his knee, Crispin brushed the royal hand with his hot lips. + </p> + <p> + A shower of blows clattered upon the timbers of the door, and one of its + panels was splintered by a musket-shot. Charles saw it, and with a + muttered word that was not caught by Crispin, he obeyed the knight, and + fled. + </p> + <p> + Scarce had he disappeared down that narrow passage, when the door gave way + completely and with a mighty crash fell in. Over the ruins of it sprang a + young Puritan-scarce more than a boy—shouting: “The Lord of Hosts!” + </p> + <p> + But ere he had taken three strides the point of Crispin's tuck-sword gave + him pause. + </p> + <p> + “Halt! You cannot pass this way.” + </p> + <p> + “Back, son of Moab!” was the Roundhead's retort. “Hinder me not, at your + peril.” + </p> + <p> + Behind him, in the doorway, pressed others, who cried out to him to cut + down the Amalekite that stood between them and the young man Charles + Stuart. But Crispin laughed grimly for answer, and kept the officer in + check with his point. + </p> + <p> + “Back, or I cut you down,” threatened the Roundhead. “I am seeking the + malignant Stuart.” + </p> + <p> + “If by those blasphemous words you mean his sacred Majesty, learn that he + is where you will never be—in God's keeping.” + </p> + <p> + “Presumptuous hound,” stormed the lad, “giveway!” + </p> + <p> + Their swords met, and for a moment they ground one against the other; then + Crispin's blade darted out, swift as a lightning flash, and took his + opponent in the throat. + </p> + <p> + “You would have it so, rash fool,” he deprecated. + </p> + <p> + The boy hurtled back into the arms of those behind, and as he fell he + dropped his rapier, which rolled almost to Crispin's feet. The knight + stooped, and when again he stood erect, confronting the rebels in that + narrow passage, he held a sword in either hand. + </p> + <p> + There was a momentary pause in the onslaught, then to his dismay Crispin + saw the barrel of a musket pointed at him over the shoulder of one of his + foremost assailants. He set his teeth for what was to come, and braced + himself with the hope that the King might already have made good his + escape. + </p> + <p> + The end was at hand, he thought, and a fitting end, since his last hope of + redress was gone-destroyed by that fatal day's defeat. + </p> + <p> + But of a sudden a cry rang out in a voice wherein rage and anguish were + blended fearfully, and simultaneously the musket barrel was dashed aside. + </p> + <p> + “Take him alive!” was the cry of that voice. “Take him alive!” It was + Colonel Pride himself, who having pushed his way forward, now beheld the + bleeding body of the youth Crispin had slain. “Take him alive!” roared the + old man. Then his voice changing to one of exquisite agony—“My son, + my boy,” he moaned. + </p> + <p> + At a glance Crispin caught the situation; but the old Puritan's grief left + him unmoved. + </p> + <p> + “You must have me alive?” he laughed grimly. “Gadslife, but the honour is + like to cost you dear. Well, sirs? Who will be next to court the + distinction of dying by the sword of a gentleman?” he mocked them. “Come + on, you sons of dogs!” + </p> + <p> + His answer was an angry growl, and straightway two men sprang forward. + More than two could not attack him at once by virtue of the narrowness of + the passage. Again steel clashed on steel. Crispin—lithe as a + panther crouched low, and took one of their swords on each of his. + </p> + <p> + A disengage and a double he foiled with ease, then by a turn of the wrist + he held for a second one opponent's blade; and before the fellow could + disengage again, he had brought his right-hand sword across, and stabbed + him in the neck. Simultaneously his other opponent had rushed in and + thrust. It was a risk Crispin was forced to take, trusting to his armour + to protect him. It did him the service he hoped from it; the trooper's + sword glanced harmlessly aside, whilst the fellow himself, overbalanced by + the fury of his onslaught, staggered helplessly forward. Ere he could + recover, Crispin had spitted him from side to side betwixt the straps that + held his back and breast together. + </p> + <p> + As the two men went down, one after the other, the watching troopers set + up a shout of rage, and pressed forward in a body. But the Tavern Knight + stood his ground, and his points danced dangerously before the eyes of the + two foremost. Alarmed, they shouted to those behind to give them room to + handle their swords; but too late. Crispin had seen the advantage, and + taken it. Twice he had thrust, and another two sank bleeding to the + ground. + </p> + <p> + At that there came a pause, and somewhere in the street a knot of them + expostulated with Colonel Pride, and begged to be allowed to pick off that + murderous malignant with their pistols. But the grief-stricken father was + obdurate. He would have the Amalekite alive that he might cause him to die + a hundred deaths in one. + </p> + <p> + And so two more were sent in to try conclusions with the indomitable + Galliard. They went to work more warily. He on the left parried Crispin's + stroke, then knocking up the knight's blade, he rushed in and seized his + wrist, shouting to those behind to follow up. But even as he did so, + Crispin sent back his other antagonist, howling and writhing with the pain + of a transfixed sword-arm, and turned his full attention upon the foe that + clung to him. Not a second did he waste in thought. To have done so would + have been fatal. Instinctively he knew that whilst he shortened his blade, + others would rush in; so, turning his wrist, he caught the man a crushing + blow full in the face with the pommel of his disengaged sword. + </p> + <p> + Fulminated by that terrific stroke, the man reeled back into the arms of + another who advanced. + </p> + <p> + Again there fell a pause. Then silently a Roundhead charged Sir Crispin + with a pike. He leapt nimbly aside, and the murderous lunge shot past him; + as he did so he dropped his left-hand sword and caught at the halberd. + Exerting his whole strength in a mighty pull, he brought the fellow that + wielded it toppling forward, and received him on his outstretched blade. + </p> + <p> + Covered with blood—the blood of others—Crispin stood before + them now. He was breathing hard and sweating at every pore, but still grim + and defiant. His strength, he realized, was ebbing fast. Yet he shook + himself, and asked them with a gibing laugh did they not think that they + had better shoot him. + </p> + <p> + The Roundheads paused again. The fight had lasted but a few moments, and + already five of them were stretched upon the ground, and a sixth disabled. + There was something in the Tavern Knight's attitude and terrific, + blood-bespattered appearance that deterred them. From out of his + powder-blackened face his eyes flashed fiercely, and a mocking diabolical + smile played round the corners of his mouth. What manner of man, they + asked themselves, was this who could laugh in such an extremity? + Superstition quickened their alarm as they gazed upon his undaunted front, + and told themselves this was no man they fought against, but the foul + fiend himself. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sirs,” he mocked them presently. “How long am I to await your + pleasure?” + </p> + <p> + They snarled for answer, yet hung back until Colonel Pride's voice shook + them into action. In a body they charged him now, so suddenly and + violently that he was forced to give way. Cunningly did he ply his sword + before them, but ineffectually. They had adopted fresh tactics, and + engaging his blade they acted cautiously and defensively, advancing + steadily, and compelling him to fall back. + </p> + <p> + Sir Crispin guessed their scheme at last, and vainly did he try to hold + his ground; his retreat slackened perhaps, but it was still a retreat, and + their defensive action gave him no opening. Vainly, yet by every trick of + fence he was master of, did he seek to lure the two foremost into + attacking him; stolidly they pursued the adopted plan, and steadily they + impelled him backward. + </p> + <p> + At last he reached the staircase, and he realized that did he allow + himself to go farther he was lost irretrievably. Yet farther was he + driven; despite the strenuous efforts he put forth, until on his right + there was room for a man to slip on to the stairs and take him in the + flank. Twice one of his opponents essayed it, and twice did Galliard's + deadly point repel him. But at the third attempt the man got through, + another stepped into his place in front, and thus from two, Crispin's + immediate assailants became increased to three. + </p> + <p> + He realized that the end was at hand, and wildly did he lay about him, but + to no purpose. And presently, he who had gained the stairs leaped suddenly + upon him sideways, and clung to his swordarm. Before he could make a move + to shake himself free, the two that faced him had caught at his other arm. + </p> + <p> + Like one possessed he struggled then, for the sheer lust of striving; but + they that held him gripped effectively. + </p> + <p> + Thrice they bore him struggling to the ground, and thrice he rose again + and sought to shake them from him as a bull shakes off a pack of dogs. But + they held fast, and again they forced him down; others sprang to their + aid, and the Tavern Knight could rise no more. + </p> + <p> + “Disarm the dog!” cried Pride. “Disarm and truss him hand and foot.” + </p> + <p> + “Sirs, you need not,” he answered, gasping. “I yield me. Take my sword. + I'll do your bidding.” + </p> + <p> + The fight was fought and lost, but it had been a great Homeric struggle, + and he rejoiced almost that upon so worthy a scene of his life was the + curtain to fall, and again to hope that, thanks to the stand he had made, + the King should have succeeded in effecting his escape. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. COMPANIONS IN MISFORTUNE + </h2> + <p> + Through the streets of Worcester the Roundheads dragged Sir Crispin, and + for all that he was as hard and callous a man as any that ever buckled on + a cuirass, the horrors that in going he beheld caused him more than once + to shudder. + </p> + <p> + The place was become a shambles, and the very kennels ran with blood. The + Royalist defeat was by now complete, and Cromwell's fanatic butchers + overran the town, vying to outdo one another in savage cruelty and murder. + Houses were being broken into and plundered, and their inmates—resisting + or unresisting; armed or unarmed; men, women and children alike were + pitilessly being put to the sword. Charged was the air of Worcester with + the din of that fierce massacre. The crashing of shivered timbers, as + doors were beaten in, mingled with the clatter and grind of sword on + sword, the crack of musket and pistol, the clank of armour, and the + stamping of men and horses in that troubled hour. + </p> + <p> + And above all rang out the fierce, raucous blasphemy of the slayers, and + the shrieks of agony, the groans, the prayers, and curses of their + victims. + </p> + <p> + All this Sir Crispin saw and heard, and in the misery of it all, he for + the while forgot his own sorry condition, and left unheeded the pike-butt + wherewith the Puritan at his heels was urging him along. + </p> + <p> + They paused at length in a quarter unknown to him before a tolerably large + house. Its doors hung wide, and across the threshold, in and out, moved + two continuous streams of officers and men. + </p> + <p> + A while Crispin and his captors stood in the spacious hall; then they + ushered him roughly into one of the abutting rooms. Here he was brought + face to face with a man of middle height, red and coarse of countenance + and large of nose, who stood fully armed in the centre of the chamber. His + head was uncovered, and on the table at his side stood the morion he had + doffed. He looked up as they entered, and for a few seconds rested his + glance sourly upon the lank, bold-eyed prisoner, who coldly returned his + stare. + </p> + <p> + “Whom have we here?” he inquired at length, his scrutiny having told him + nothing. + </p> + <p> + “One whose offence is too heinous to have earned him a soldier's death, my + lord,” answered Pride. + </p> + <p> + “Therein you lie, you damned rebel!” cried Crispin. “If accuse you must, + announce the truth. Tell Master Cromwell”—for he had guessed the + man's identity—“that single-handed I held my own against you and a + score of you curs, and that not until I had cut down seven of them was I + taken. Tell him that, master psalm-singer, and let him judge whether you + lied or not. Tell him, too, that you, who—” + </p> + <p> + “Have done!” cried Cromwell at length, stamping his foot. “Peace, or I'll + have you gagged. Now, Colonel, let us hear your accusation.” + </p> + <p> + At great length, and with endless interlarding of proverbs did Pride + relate how this impious malignant had been the means of the young man, + Charles Stuart, making good his escape when otherwise he must have fallen + into their hands. He accused him also of the murder of his son and of four + other stout, God-fearing troopers, and urged Cromwell to let him deal with + the malignant as he deserved. + </p> + <p> + The Lord General's answer took expression in a form that was little + puritanical. Then, checking himself: + </p> + <p> + “He is the second they have brought me within ten minutes charged with the + same offence,” said he. “The other one is a young fool who gave Charles + Stuart his horse at Saint Martin's Gate. But for him again the young man + had been taken.” + </p> + <p> + “So he has escaped!” cried Crispin. “Now, God be praised!” + </p> + <p> + Cromwell stared at him blankly for a moment, then: + </p> + <p> + “You will do well, sir,” he muttered sourly, “to address the Lord on your + own behalf. As for that young man of Baal, your master, rejoice not yet in + his escape. By the same crowning mercy in which the Lord hath vouchsafed + us victory to-day shall He also deliver the malignant youth into my hands. + For your share in retarding his capture your life, sir, shall pay forfeit. + You shall hang at daybreak together with that other malignant who assisted + Charles at the Saint Martin's Gate.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall at least hang in good company,” said Crispin pleasantly, “and for + that, sir, I give you thanks.” + </p> + <p> + “You will pass the night with that other fool,” Cromwell continued, + without heeding the interruption, “and I pray that you may spend it in + such meditation as shall fit you for your end. Take him away.” + </p> + <p> + “But, my lord,” exclaimed Pride, advancing. + </p> + <p> + “What now?” + </p> + <p> + Crispin caught not his answer, but his half-whispered words were earnest + and pleading. Cromwell shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot sanction it. Let it satisfy you that he dies. I condole with you + in your bereavement, but it is the fortune of war. Let the thought that + your son died in a godly cause be of comfort to you. Bear in mind, Colonel + Pride, that Abraham hesitated not to offer up his child to the Lord. And + so, fare you well.” + </p> + <p> + Colonel Pride's face worked oddly, and his eyes rested for a second upon + the stern, unmoved figure of the Tavern Knight in malice and + vindictiveness. Then, shrugging his shoulders in token of unwilling + resignation, he withdrew, whilst Crispin was led out. + </p> + <p> + In the hall again they kept him waiting for some moments, until at length + an officer came up, and bidding him follow, led the way to the guardroom. + Here they stripped him of his back-and-breast, and when that was done the + officer again led the way, and Crispin followed between two troopers. They + made him mount three flights of stairs, and hurried him along a passage to + a door by which a soldier stood mounting guard. At a word from the officer + the sentry turned, and unfastening the heavy bolts, he opened the door. + Roughly the officer bade Sir Crispin enter, and stood aside that he might + pass. + </p> + <p> + Crispin obeyed him silently, and crossed the threshold to find himself + within a mean, gloomy chamber, and to hear the heavy door closed and made + fast again behind him. His stout heart sank a little as he realized that + that closed door shut out to him the world for ever; but once again would + he cross that threshold, and that would be the preface to the crossing of + the greater threshold of eternity. + </p> + <p> + Then something stirred in one of that room's dark corners, and he started, + to see that he was not alone, remembering that Cromwell had said he was to + have a companion in his last hours. + </p> + <p> + “Who are you?” came a dull voice—a voice that was eloquent of + misery. + </p> + <p> + “Master Stewart!” he exclaimed, recognizing his companion. “So it was you + gave the King your horse at the Saint Martin's Gate! May Heaven reward + you. Gadswounds,” he added, “I had little thought to meet you again this + side the grave.” + </p> + <p> + “Would to Heaven you had not!” was the doleful answer. “What make you + here?” + </p> + <p> + “By your good leave and with your help I'll make as merry as a man may + whose sands are all but run. The Lord General—whom the devil roast + in his time will make a pendulum of me at daybreak, and gives me the night + in which to prepare.” + </p> + <p> + The lad came forward into the light, and eyed Sir Crispin sorrowfully. + </p> + <p> + “We are companions in misfortune, then.” + </p> + <p> + “Were we ever companions in aught else? Come, sir, be of better cheer. + Since it is to be our last night in this poor world, let us spend it as + pleasantly as may be.” + </p> + <p> + “Pleasantly?” + </p> + <p> + “Twill clearly be difficult,” answered Crispin, with a laugh. “Were we in + Christian hands they'd not deny us a black jack over which to relish our + last jest, and to warm us against the night air, which must be chill in + this garret. But these crop-ears...” He paused to peer into the pitcher on + the table. “Water! Pah! A scurvy lot, these psalm-mongers!” + </p> + <p> + “Merciful Heaven! Have you no thought for your end?” + </p> + <p> + “Every thought, good youth, every thought, and I would fain prepare me for + the morning's dance in a more jovial and hearty fashion than Old Noll will + afford me—damn him!” + </p> + <p> + Kenneth drew back in horror. His old dislike for Crispin was all aroused + by this indecent flippancy at such a time. Just then the thought of + spending the night in his company almost effaced the horror of the gallows + whereof he had been a prey. + </p> + <p> + Noting the movement, Crispin laughed disdainfully, and walked towards the + window. It was a small opening, by which two iron bars, set crosswise, + defied escape. Moreover, as Crispin looked out, he realized that a more + effective barrier lay in the height of the window itself. The house + overlooked the river on that side; it was built upon an embankment some + thirty feet high; around this, at the base of the edifice, and some forty + feet below the window, ran a narrow pathway protected by an iron railing. + But so narrow was it, that had a man sprung from the casement of Crispin's + prison, it was odds he would have fallen into the river some seventy feet + below. Crispin turned away with a sigh. He had approached the window + almost in hope; he quitted it in absolute despair. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, well,” said he, “we will hang, and there's the end of it.” + </p> + <p> + Kenneth had resumed his seat in the corner, and, wrapped in his cloak, he + sat steeped in meditation, his comely young face seared with lines of + pain. As Crispin looked upon him then, his heart softened and went out to + the lad—went out as it had done on the night when first he had + beheld him in the courtyard of Perth Castle. + </p> + <p> + He recalled the details of that meeting; he remembered the sympathy that + had drawn him to the boy, and how Kenneth had at first appeared to + reciprocate that feeling, until he came to know him for the rakehelly, + godless ruffler that he was. He thought of the gulf that gradually had + opened up between them. The lad was righteous and God-fearing, truthful + and sober, filled with stern ideals by which he sought to shape his life. + He had taxed Crispin with his dissoluteness, and Crispin, despising him + for a milksop, had returned to his disgust with mockery, and had found a + fiendish pleasure in arousing that disgust at every turn. + </p> + <p> + To-night, as Crispin eyed the youth, and remembered that at dawn he was to + die in his company, he realized that he had used him ill, that his + behaviour towards him had been that of the dissolute ruffler he was + become, rather than of the gentleman he had once accounted himself. + </p> + <p> + “Kenneth,” he said at length, and his voice bore so unusually mild a ring + that the lad looked up in surprise. “I have heard tell that it is no + uncommon thing for men upon the threshold of eternity to seek to repair + some of the evil they may have done in life.” + </p> + <p> + Kenneth shuddered. Crispin's words reminded him again of his approaching + end. The ruffler paused a moment, as if awaiting a reply or a word of + encouragement. Then, as none came, he continued: + </p> + <p> + “I am not one of your repentant sinners, Kenneth. I have lived my life—God, + what a life!—and as I have lived I shall die, unflinching and + unchanged. Dare one to presume that a few hours spent in whining prayers + shall atone for years of reckless dissoluteness? 'Tis a doctrine of + cravens, who, having lacked in life the strength to live as conscience + bade them, lack in death the courage to stand by that life's deeds. I am + no such traitor to myself. If my life has been vile my temptations have + been sore, and the rest is in God's hands. But in my course I have sinned + against many men; many a tall fellow's life have I wantonly wrecked; some, + indeed, I have even taken in wantonness or anger. They are not by, nor, + were they, could I now make amends. But you at least are here, and what + little reparation may lie in asking pardon I can make. When I first saw + you at Perth it was my wish to make you my friend—a feeling I have + not had these twenty years towards any man. I failed. How else could it + have been? The dove may not nest with the carrion bird.” + </p> + <p> + “Say no more, sir,” cried Kenneth, genuinely moved, and still more amazed + by this curious humility in one whom he had never known other than + arrogant and mocking. “I beseech you, say no more. For what trifling + wrongs you may have done me I forgive you as freely as I would be + forgiven. Is it not written that it shall be so?” And he held out his + hand. + </p> + <p> + “A little more I must say, Kenneth,” answered the other, leaving the + outstretched hand unheeded. “The feeling that was born in me towards you + at Perth Castle is on me again. I seek not to account for it. Perchance it + springs from my recognition of the difference betwixt us; perchance I see + in you a reflection of what once I was myself—honourable and true. + But let that be. The sun is setting over yonder, and you and I will behold + it no more. That to me is a small thing. I am weary. Hope is dead; and + when that is dead what does it signify that the body die also? Yet in + these last hours that we shall spend together I would at least have your + esteem. I would have you forget my past harshness and the wrongs that I + may have done you down to that miserable affair of your sweetheart's + letter, yesterday. I would have you realize that if I am vile, I am but + such as a vile world hath made me. And tomorrow when we go forth together, + I would have you see in me at least a man in whose company you are not + ashamed to die.” + </p> + <p> + Again the lad shuddered. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I tell you my story, Kenneth? I have a strong desire to go over + this poor life of mine again in memory, and by giving my thoughts + utterance it may be that they will take more vivid shape. For the rest my + tale may wile away a little of the time that's left, and when you have + heard me you shall judge me, Kenneth. What say you?” + </p> + <p> + Despite the parlous condition whereunto the fear of the morrow had reduced + him, this new tone of Galliard's so wrought upon him then that he was + almost eager in his request that Sir Crispin should unfold his story. And + this the Tavern Knight then set himself to do. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. THE TAVERN KNIGHT'S STORY + </h2> + <p> + Sir Crispin walked from the window by which he had been standing, to the + rough bed, and flung himself full length upon it. The only chair that + dismal room contained was occupied by Kenneth. Galliard heaved a sigh of + physical satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + “Fore George, I knew not I was so tired,” he murmured. And with that he + lapsed for some moments into silence, his brows contracted in the frown of + one who collects his thoughts. At length he began, speaking in calm, + unemotional tones that held perchance deeper pathos than a more passionate + utterance could have endowed them with: + </p> + <p> + “Long ago—twenty years ago—I was, as I have said, an + honourable lad, to whom the world was a fair garden, a place of rosebuds, + fragrant with hope. Those, Kenneth, were my illusions. They are the + illusions of youth; they are youth itself, for when our illusions are gone + we are no longer young no matter what years we count. Keep your illusions, + Kenneth; treasure them, hoard them jealously for as long as you may.” + </p> + <p> + “I dare swear, sir,” answered the lad, with bitter humour, “that such + illusions as I have I shall treasure all my life. You forget, Sir + Crispin.” + </p> + <p> + “'Slife, I had indeed forgotten. For the moment I had gone back twenty + years, and to-morrow was none so near.” He laughed softly, as though his + lapse of memory amused him. Then he resumed: + </p> + <p> + “I was the only son, Kenneth, of the noblest gentleman that ever lived—the + heir to an ancient, honoured name, and to a castle as proud and lands as + fair and broad as any in England. + </p> + <p> + “They lie who say that from the dawn we may foretell the day. Never was + there a brighter dawn than that of my life; never a day so wasted; never + an evening so dark. But let that be. + </p> + <p> + “Our lands were touched upon the northern side by those of a house with + which we had been at feud for two hundred years and more. Puritans they + were, stern and haughty in their ungodly righteousness. They held us + dissolute because we enjoyed the life that God had given us, and there I + am told the hatred first began. + </p> + <p> + “When I was a lad of your years, Kenneth, the hall—ours was the + castle, theirs the hall—was occupied by two young sparks who made + little shift to keep up the pious reputation of their house. They dwelt + there with their mother—a woman too weak to check their ways, and + holding, mayhap, herself, views not altogether puritanical. They discarded + the sober black their forbears had worn for generations, and donned gay + Cavalier garments. They let their love-locks grow; set plumes in their + castors and jewels in their ears; they drank deep, ruffled it with the + boldest and decked their utterance with great oaths—for to none doth + blasphemy come more readily than to lips that in youth have been overmuch + shaped in unwilling prayer. + </p> + <p> + “Me they avoided as they would a plague, and when at times we met, our + salutations were grave as those of, men on the point of crossing swords. I + despised them for their coarse, ruffling apostasy more than ever my father + had despised their father for a bigot, and they guessing or knowing by + instinct what was in my mind held me in deeper rancour even than their + ancestors had done mine. And more galling still and yet a sharper spur to + their hatred did those whelps find in the realization that all the + countryside held, as it had held for ages, us to be their betters. A hard + blow to their pride was that, but their revenge was not long in coming. + </p> + <p> + “It chanced they had a cousin—a maid as sweet and fair and pure as + they were hideous and foul. We met in the meads—she and I. Spring + was the time—God! It seems but yesterday!—and each in our + bearing towards the other forgot the traditions of the names we bore. And + as at first we had met by chance, so did we meet later by contrivance, not + once or twice, but many times. God, how sweet she was! How sweet was all + the world! How sweet it was to live and to be young! We loved. How else + could it have been? What to us were traditions, what to us the hatred that + for centuries had held our families asunder? In us it lay to set aside all + that. + </p> + <p> + “And so I sought my father. He cursed me at first for an unnatural son who + left unheeded the dictates of our blood. But anon, when on my knees I had + urged my cause with all the eloquent fervour that is but of youth—youth + that loves—my father cursed no more. His thoughts went back maybe to + the days of his own youth, and he bade me rise and go a-wooing as I + listed. Nay, more than that he did. The first of our name was he out of + ten generations to set foot across the threshold of the hall; he went on + my behalf to sue for their cousin's hand. + </p> + <p> + “Then was their hour. To them that had been taught the humiliating lesson + that we were their betters, one of us came suing. They from whom the + countryside looked for silence when one of us spoke, had it in their hands + at length to say us nay. And they said it. What answer my father made + them, Kenneth, I know not, but very white was his face when I met him on + the castle steps on his return. In burning words he told me of the insult + they had put upon him, then silently he pointed to the Toledo that two + years before he had brought me out of Spain, and left me. But I had + understood. Softly I unsheathed that virgin blade and read the Spanish + inscription, that through my tears of rage and shame seemed blurred; a + proud inscription was it, instinct with the punctilio of proud Spain—'Draw + me not without motive, sheathe me not without honour.' Motive there was + and to spare; honour I swore there should be; and with that oath, and that + brave sword girt to me, I set out to my first combat.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Crispin paused and a sigh escaped him, followed by a laugh of + bitterness. + </p> + <p> + “I lost that sword years ago,” said he musingly. “The sword and I have + been close friends in life, but my companion has been a blade of coarser + make, carrying no inscriptions to prick at a man's conscience and make a + craven of him.” + </p> + <p> + He laughed again, and again he fell a-musing, till Kenneth's voice aroused + him. + </p> + <p> + “Your story, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Twilight shadows were gathering in their garret, and as he turned his face + towards the youth, he was unable to make out his features; but his tone + had been eager, and Crispin noted that he sat with head bent forward and + that his eyes shone feverishly. + </p> + <p> + “It interests you, eh? Ah, well—hot foot I went to the hall, and + with burning words I called upon those dogs to render satisfaction for the + dishonour they had put upon my house. Will you believe, Kenneth, that they + denied me? They sheltered their craven lives behind a shield of mock + valour. They would not fight a boy, they said, and bade me get my beard + grown when haply they would give ear to my grievance. + </p> + <p> + “And so, a shame and rage a hundredfold more bitter than that which I had + borne thither did I carry thence. My father bade me treasure up the memory + of it against the time when my riper years should compel them to attend + me, and this, by my every hope of heaven, I swore to do. He bade me + further efface for ever from my mind all thought or hope of union with + their cousin, and though I made him no answer at the time, yet in my heart + I promised to obey him in that, too. But I was young—scarce twenty. + A week without sight of my mistress and I grew sick with despair. Then at + length I came upon her, pale and tearful, one evening, and in an agony of + passion and hopelessness I flung myself at her feet, and implored her to + keep true to me and wait, and she, poor maid, to her undoing swore that + she would. You are yourself a lover, Kenneth, and you may guess something + of the impatience that anon beset me. How could I wait? I asked her this. + </p> + <p> + “Some fifty miles from the castle there was a little farm, in the very + heart of the country, which had been left me by a sister of my mother's. + Thither I now implored her to repair with me. I would find a priest to wed + us, and there we should live a while in happiness, in solitude, and in + love. An alluring picture did I draw with all a lover's cunning, and to + the charms of it she fell a victim. We fled three days later. + </p> + <p> + “We were wed in the village that pays allegiance to the castle, and + thereafter we travelled swiftly and undisturbed to that little homestead. + There in solitude, with but two servants—a man and a maid whom I + could trust—we lived and loved, and for a season, brief as all + happiness is doomed to be, we were happy. Her cousins had no knowledge of + that farm of mine, and though they searched the country for many a mile + around, they searched in vain. My father knew—as I learned + afterwards—but deeming that what was done might not be undone, he + held his peace. In the following spring a babe was born to us, and our + bliss made heaven of that cottage. + </p> + <p> + “Twas a month or so after the birth of our child that the blow descended. + I was away, enjoying alone the pleasures of the chase; my man was gone a + journey to the nearest town, whence he would not return until the morrow. + Oft have I cursed the folly that led me to take my gun and go forth into + the woods, leaving no protector for my wife but one weak woman. + </p> + <p> + “I returned earlier than I had thought to do, led mayhap by some angel + that sought to have me back in time. But I came too late. At my gate I + found two freshly ridden horses tethered, and it was with a dull + foreboding in my heart that I sprang through the open door. Within—O + God, the anguish of it!—stretched on the floor I beheld my love, a + gaping sword-wound in her side, and the ground all bloody about her. For a + moment I stood dumb in the spell of that horror, then a movement beyond, + against the wall, aroused me, and I beheld her murderers cowering there, + one with a naked sword in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “In that fell hour, Kenneth, my whole nature changed, and one who had ever + been gentle was transformed into the violent, passionate man that you have + known. As my eye encountered then her cousins, my blood seemed on the + instant curdled in my veins; my teeth were set hard; my nerves and sinews + knotted; my hands instinctively shifted to the barrel of my fowling-piece + and clutched it with the fierceness that was in me—the fierceness of + the beast about to spring upon those that have brought it to bay. + </p> + <p> + “For a moment I stood swaying there, my eyes upon them, and holding their + craven glances fascinated. Then with a roar I leapt forward, the stock of + my fowling-piece swung high above my head. And, as God lives, Kenneth, I + had sent them straight to hell ere they could have raised a hand or made a + cry to stay me. But as I sprang my foot slipped in the blood of my + beloved, and in my fall I came close to her where she lay. The + fowling-piece had escaped my grasp and crashed against the wall. + </p> + <p> + “I scarce knew what I did, but as I lay beside her it came to me that I + did not wish to rise again—that already I had lived overlong. It + came to me that, seeing me fallen, haply those cowards would seize the + chance to make an end of me as I lay. I wished it so in that moment's + frenzy, for I made no attempt to rise or to defend myself; instead I set + my arms about my poor murdered love, and against her cold cheek I set my + face that was well-nigh as cold. + </p> + <p> + “And thus I lay, nor did they keep me long. A sword was passed through me + from back to breast, whilst he who did it cursed me with a foul oath. The + room grew dim; methought it swayed and that the walls were tottering; + there was a buzz of sound in my ears, then a piercing cry in a baby voice. + At the sound of it I vaguely wished for the strength to rise. As in the + distance, I heard one of those butchers cry, “Haste, man; slit me that + squalling bastard's throat!” And then I must have swooned.” + </p> + <p> + Kenneth shuddered. + </p> + <p> + “My God, how horrible!” he cried. “But you were avenged, Sir Crispin,” he + added eagerly; “you were avenged?” + </p> + <p> + “When I regained consciousness,” Crispin continued, as if he had not heard + Kenneth's exclamation, “the cottage was in flames, set alight by them to + burn the evidence of their foul deed. What I did I know not. I have tried + to urge my memory along from the point of my awakening, but in vain. By + what miracle I crawled forth, I cannot tell; but in the morning I was + found by my man lying prone in the garden, half a dozen paces from the + blackened ruins of the cottage, as near death as man may go and live. + </p> + <p> + “God willed that I should not die, but it was close upon a year before I + was restored to any semblance of my former self, and then I was so changed + that I was hardly to be recognized as that same joyous, vigorous lad, who + had set out, fowling-piece on shoulder, one fine morning a year agone. + There was grey in my hair, as much as there is now, though I was but + twenty-one; my face was seared and marked as that of a man who had lived + twice my years. It was to my faithful servant that I owed my life, though + I ask myself to-night whether I have cause for gratitude towards him on + that score. + </p> + <p> + “So soon as I had regained sufficient strength, I went secretly home, + wishing that men might continue to believe me dead. My father I found much + aged by grief, but he was kind and tender with me beyond all words. From + him I had it that our enemies were gone to France; it would seem they had + thought it better to remain absent for a while. He had learnt that they + were in Paris, and hither I determined forthwith to follow them. Vainly + did my father remonstrate with me; vainly did he urge me rather: to bear + my story to the King at Whitehall and seek for justice. I had been well + advised had I obeyed this counsel, but I burned to take my vengeance with + my own hands, and with this purpose I repaired to France. + </p> + <p> + “Two nights after my arrival in Paris it was my ill-fortune to be + embroiled in a rough-and-tumble in the streets, and by an ill-chance I + killed a man—the first was he of several that I have sent whither I + am going to-morrow. The affair was like to have cost me my life, but by + another of those miracles which have prolonged it, I was sent instead to + the galleys on the Mediterranean. It was only wanting that, after all that + already I had endured, I should become a galley-slave! + </p> + <p> + “For twelve long years I toiled at an oar, and waited. If I lived I would + return to England; and if I returned, woe unto those that had wrecked my + life—my body and my soul. I did live, and I did return. The Civil + War had broken out, and I came to throw my sword into the balance on the + King's side: I came, too, to be avenged, but that would wait. + </p> + <p> + “Meanwhile, the score had grown heavier. I went home to find the castle in + usurping hands—in the hands of my enemies. My father was dead; he + died a few months after I had gone to France; and those murderers had + advanced a claim that through my marriage with their cousin, since dead, + and through my own death, there being no next of kin, they were the + heirs-at-law. The Parliament allowed their claim, and they were installed. + But when I came they were away, following the fortunes of the Parliament + that had served them so well. And so I determined to let my vengeance wait + until the war were ended and the Parliament destroyed. In a hundred + engagements did I distinguish myself by my recklessness even as at other + seasons I distinguished myself by my debaucheries. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Kenneth, you have been hard upon me for my vices, for my abuses of + the cup, and all the rest. But can you be hard upon me still, knowing what + I had suffered, and what a weight of misery I bore with me? I, whose life + was wrecked beyond salvation; who only lived that I might slit the throats + of those that had so irreparably wronged me. Think you still that it was + so vicious a thing, so unpardonable an offence to seek the blessed + nepenthe of the wine-cup, the heavenly forgetfulness that its abuses + brought me? Is it strange that I became known as the wildest tantivy boy + that rode with the King? What else had I?” + </p> + <p> + “In all truth your trials were sore,” said the lad in a voice that + contained a note of sympathy. And yet there was a certain restraint that + caught the Tavern Knight's ear. He turned his head and bent his eyes in + the lad's direction, but it was quite dark by now, and he failed to make + out his companion's face. + </p> + <p> + “My tale is told, Kenneth. The rest you can guess. The King did not + prevail and I was forced to fly from England with those others who escaped + from the butchers that had made a martyr of Charles. I took service in + France under the great Conde, and I saw some mighty battles. At length + came the council of Breda and the invitation to Charles the Second to + receive the crown of Scotland. I set out again to follow his fortunes as I + had followed his father's, realizing that by so doing I followed my own, + and that did he prevail I should have the redress and vengeance so long + awaited. To-day has dashed my last hope; to-morrow at this hour it will + not signify. And yet much would I give to have my fingers on the throats + of those two hounds before the hangman's close around my own.” + </p> + <p> + There was a spell of silence as the two men sat, both breathing heavily in + the gloom that enveloped them. At length: + </p> + <p> + “You have heard my story, Kenneth,” said Crispin. + </p> + <p> + “I have heard, Sir Crispin, and God knows I pity you.” + </p> + <p> + That was all, and Galliard felt that it was not enough. He had lacerated + his soul with those grim memories to earn a yet kinder word. He had looked + even to hear the lad suing for pardon for the harsh opinions wherein he + had held him. Strange was this yearning of his for the boy's sympathy. He + who for twenty years had gone unloving and unloved, sought now in his + extremity affection from a fellow-man. + </p> + <p> + And so in the gloom he waited for a kinder word that came not; then—so + urgent was his need—he set himself to beg it. + </p> + <p> + “Can you not understand now, Kenneth, how I came to fall so low? Can you + not understand this dissoluteness of mine, which led them to dub me the + Tavern Knight after the King conferred upon me the honour of knighthood + for that stand of mine in Fifeshire? You must understand, Kenneth,” he + insisted almost piteously, “and knowing all, you must judge me more + mercifully than hitherto.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not mine to judge, Sir Crispin. I pity you with all my heart,” the + lad replied, not ungently. + </p> + <p> + Still the knight was dissatisfied. “Yours it is to judge as every man may + judge his fellowman. You mean it is not yours to sentence. But if yours it + were, Kenneth, what then?” + </p> + <p> + The lad paused a moment ere he answered. His bigoted Presbyterian training + was strong within him, and although, as he said, he pitied Galliard, yet + to him whose mind was stuffed with life's precepts, and who knew naught of + the trials it brings to some and the temptations to which they were not + human did they not succumb—it seemed that vice was not to be excused + by misfortune. Out of mercy then he paused, and for a moment he had it + even in his mind to cheer his fellow-captive with a lie. Then, remembering + that he was to die upon the morrow, and that at such a time it was not + well to risk the perdition of his soul by an untruth, however merciful, he + answered slowly: + </p> + <p> + “Were I to judge you, since you ask me, sir, I should be merciful because + of your misfortunes. And yet, Sir Crispin, your profligacy and the evil + you have wrought in life must weigh heavily against you.” Had this + immaculate bigot, this churlish milksop been as candid with himself as he + was with Crispin, he must have recognized that it was mainly Crispin's + offences towards himself that his mind now dwelt on in deeper rancour than + became one so well acquainted with the Lord's Prayer. + </p> + <p> + “You had not cause enough,” he added impressively, “to defile your soul + and risk its eternal damnation because the evil of others had wrecked your + life.” + </p> + <p> + Crispin drew breath with the sharp hiss of one in pain, and for a moment + after all was still. Then a bitter laugh broke from him. + </p> + <p> + “Bravely answered, reverend sir,” he cried with biting scorn. “I marvel + only that you left your pulpit to gird on a sword; that you doffed your + cassock to don a cuirass. Here is a text for you who deal in texts, my + brave Jack Presbyter—'Judge you your neighbour as you would yourself + be judged; be merciful as you would hope for mercy.' Chew you the cud of + that until the hangman's coming in the morning. Good night to you.” + </p> + <p> + And throwing himself back upon the bed, Crispin sought comfort in sleep. + His limbs were heavy and his heart was sick. + </p> + <p> + “You misapprehend me, Sir Crispin,” cried the lad, stung almost to shame + by Galliard's reproach, and also mayhap into some fear that hereafter he + should find little mercy for his own lack of it towards a poor + fellow-sinner. “I spoke not as I would judge, but as the Church teaches.” + </p> + <p> + “If the Church teaches no better I rejoice that I was no churchman,” + grunted Crispin. + </p> + <p> + “For myself,” the lad pursued, heeding not the irreverent interruption, + “as I have said, I pity you with all my heart. More than that, so deeply + do I feel, so great a loathing and indignation has your story sown in my + heart, that were our liberty now restored us I would willingly join hands + with you in wreaking vengeance on these evildoers.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Crispin laughed. He judged the tone rather than the words, and it rang + hollow. + </p> + <p> + “Where are your wits, O casuist?” he cried mockingly. “Where are your + doctrines? 'Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord!' Pah!” + </p> + <p> + And with that final ejaculation, pregnant with contempt and bitterness, he + composed himself to sleep. + </p> + <p> + He was accursed he told himself. He must die alone, as he had lived. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. THE TWISTED BAR + </h2> + <p> + Nature asserted herself, and, despite his condition, Crispin slept. + Kenneth sat huddled on his chair, and in awe and amazement he listened to + his companion's regular breathing. He had not Galliard's nerves nor + Galliard's indifference to death, so that neither could he follow his + example, nor yet so much as realize how one should slumber upon the very + brink of eternity. + </p> + <p> + For a moment his wonder stood perilously near to admiration; then his + religious training swayed him, and his righteousness almost drew from him + a contempt of this man's apathy. There was much of the Pharisee's attitude + towards the publican in his mood. + </p> + <p> + Anon that regular breathing grew irritating to him; it drew so marked a + contrast 'twixt Crispin's frame of mind and his own. Whilst Crispin had + related his story, the interest it awakened had served to banish the + spectre of fear which the thought of the morrow conjured up. Now that + Crispin was silent and asleep, that spectre returned, and the lad grew + numb and sick with the horror of his position. + </p> + <p> + Thought followed thought as he sat huddled there with sunken head and + hands clasped tight between his knees, and they were mostly of his dull + uneventful days in Scotland, and ever and anon of Cynthia, his beloved. + Would she hear of his end? Would she weep for him?—as though it + mattered! And every train of thought that he embarked upon brought him to + the same issue—to-morrow! Shuddering he would clench his hands still + tighter, and the perspiration would stand' out in beads upon his callow + brow. + </p> + <p> + At length he flung himself upon his knees to address not so much a prayer + as a maudlin grievance to his Creator. He felt himself a craven—doubly + so by virtue of the peaceful breathing of that sinner he despised—and + he told himself that it was not in fear a gentleman should meet his end. + </p> + <p> + “But I shall be brave to-morrow. I shall be brave,” he muttered, and knew + not that it was vanity begat the thought, and vanity that might uphold him + on the morrow when there were others by, however broken might be his + spirit now. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Crispin slept. When he awakened the light of a lanthorn was on + his face, and holding it stood beside him a tall black figure in a cloak + and a slouched hat whose broad brim left the features unrevealed. + </p> + <p> + Still half asleep, and blinking like an owl, he sat up. + </p> + <p> + “I have always held burnt sack to be well enough, but—” + </p> + <p> + He stopped short, fully awake at last, and, suddenly remembering his + condition and thinking they were come for him, he drew a sharp breath and + in a voice as indifferent as he could make it: + </p> + <p> + “What's o'clock?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Past midnight, miserable wretch,” was the answer delivered in a deep + droning voice. “Hast entered upon thy last day of life—a day whose + sun thou'lt never see. But five hours more are left thee.” + </p> + <p> + “And it is to tell me this that you have awakened me?” demanded Galliard + in such a voice that he of the cloak recoiled a step, as if he thought a + blow must follow. “Out on you for an unmannerly cur to break upon a + gentleman's repose.” + </p> + <p> + “I come,” returned the other in his droning voice, “to call upon thee to + repent.” + </p> + <p> + “Plague me not,” answered Crispin, with a yawn. “I would sleep.” + </p> + <p> + “Soundly enough shalt thou sleep in a few hours' time. Bethink thee, + miserable sinner, of thy soul.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” cried the Tavern Knight, “I am a man of marvellous short endurance. + But mark you this your ways to heaven are not my ways. Indeed, if heaven + be peopled by such croaking things as you, I shall be thankful to escape + it. So go, my friend, ere I become discourteous.” + </p> + <p> + The minister stood in silence for a moment; then setting his lanthorn upon + the table, he raised his hands and eyes towards the low ceiling of the + chamber. + </p> + <p> + “Vouchsafe, O Lord,” he prayed, “to touch yet the callous heart of this + obdurate, incorrigible sinner, this wicked, perjured and blasphemous + malignant, whose—” + </p> + <p> + He got no further. Crispin was upon his feet, his harsh countenance thrust + into the very face of the minister; his eyes ablaze. + </p> + <p> + “Out!” he thundered, pointing to the door. “Out! Begone! I would not be + guilty at the end of my life of striking a man in petticoats. But go + whilst I can bethink me of it! Go—take your prayers to hell.” + </p> + <p> + The minister fell back before that blaze of passion. For a second he + appeared to hesitate, then he turned towards Kenneth, who stood behind in + silence. But the lad's Presbyterian rearing had taught him to hate a + sectarian as he would a papist or as he would the devil, and he did no + more than echo Galliard's words—though in a gentler key. + </p> + <p> + “I pray you go,” he said. “But if you would perform an act of charity, + leave your lanthorn. It will be dark enough hereafter.” + </p> + <p> + The minister looked keenly at the boy, and won over by the humility of his + tone, he set the lanthorn on the table. Then moving towards the door, he + stopped and addressed himself to Crispin. + </p> + <p> + “I go since you oppose with violence my ministrations. But I shall pray + for you, and I will return anon, when perchance your heart shall be + softened by the near imminence of your end.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” quoth Crispin wearily, “you would outtalk a woman.” + </p> + <p> + “I've done, I've done,” he cried in trepidation, making shift to depart. + On the threshold he paused again. “I leave you the lanthorn,” he said. + “May it light you to a godlier frame of mind. I shall return at daybreak.” + And with that he went. + </p> + <p> + Crispin yawned noisily when he was gone, and stretched himself. Then + pointing to the pallet: + </p> + <p> + “Come, lad, 'tis your turn,” said he. + </p> + <p> + Kenneth shivered. “I could not sleep,” he cried. “I could not.” + </p> + <p> + “As you will.” And shrugging his shoulders, Crispin sat down on the edge + of the bed. + </p> + <p> + “For cold comforters commend me to these cropeared cuckolds,” he grumbled. + “They are all thought for a man's soul, but for his body they care + nothing. Here am I who for the last ten hours have had neither meat nor + drink. Not that I mind the meat so much, but, 'slife, my throat is dry as + one of their sermons, and I would cheerfully give four of my five hours of + life for a posset of sack. A paltry lot are they, Kenneth, holding that + because a man must die at dawn he need not sup to-night. Heigho! Some liar + hath said that he who sleeps dines, and if I sleep perchance I shall + forget my thirst.” + </p> + <p> + He stretched himself upon the bed, and presently he slept again. + </p> + <p> + It was Kenneth who next awakened him. He opened his eyes to find the lad + shivering as with an ague. His face was ashen. + </p> + <p> + “Now, what's amiss? Oddslife, what ails you?” he cried. + </p> + <p> + “Is there no way, Sir Crispin? Is there naught you can do?” wailed the + youth. + </p> + <p> + Instantly Galliard sat up. + </p> + <p> + “Poor lad, does the thought of the rope affright you?” + </p> + <p> + Kenneth bowed his head in silence. + </p> + <p> + “Tis a scurvy death, I own. Look you, Kenneth, there is a dagger in my + boot. If you would rather have cold steel, 'tis done. It is the last + service I may render you, and I'll be as gentle as a mistress. Just there, + over the heart, and you'll know no more until you are in Paradise.” + </p> + <p> + Turning down the leather of his right boot, he thrust his hand down the + side of his leg. But Kenneth sprang back with a cry. + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” he cried, covering his face with his hands. “Not that! You don't + understand. It is death itself I would cheat. What odds to exchange one + form for another? Is there no way out of this? Is there no way, Sir + Crispin?” he demanded with clenched hands. + </p> + <p> + “The approach of death makes you maudlin, sir,” quoth the other, in whom + this pitiful show of fear produced a profound disgust. “Is there no way; + say you? There is the window, but 'tis seventy feet above the river; and + there is the door, but it is locked, and there is a sentry on the other + side.” + </p> + <p> + “I might have known it. I might have known that you would mock me. What is + death to you, to whom life offers nothing? For you the prospect of it has + no terrors. But for me—bethink you, sir, I am scarce eighteen years + of age,” he added brokenly, “and life was full of promise for me. O God, + pity me!” + </p> + <p> + “True, lad, true,” the knight returned in softened tones. “I had forgotten + that death is not to you the blessed release that it is to me. And yet, + and yet,” he mused, “do I not die leaving a task unfulfilled—a task + of vengeance? And by my soul, I know no greater spur to make a man cling + to life. Ah,” he sighed wistfully, “if indeed I could find a way.” + </p> + <p> + “Think, Sir Crispin, think,” cried the boy feverishly. + </p> + <p> + “To what purpose? There is the window. But even if the bars were moved, + which I see no manner of accomplishing, the drop to the river is seventy + feet at least. I measured it with my eyes when first we entered here. We + have no rope. Your cloak rent in two and the pieces tied together would + scarce yield us ten feet. Would you care to jump the remaining sixty?” + </p> + <p> + At the very thought of it the lad trembled, noting which Sir Crispin + laughed softly. + </p> + <p> + “There. And yet, boy, it would be taking a risk which if successful would + mean life—if otherwise, a speedier end than even the rope will + afford you. Oddslife,” he cried, suddenly springing to his feet, and + seizing the lanthorn. “Let us look at these bars.” + </p> + <p> + He stepped across to the window, and held the light so that its rays fell + full upon the base of the vertical iron that barred the square. + </p> + <p> + “It is much worn by rust, Kenneth,” he muttered. “The removal of this + single piece of iron,” and he touched the lower arm of the cross, “should + afford us passage. Who knows? Hum!” + </p> + <p> + He walked back to the table and set the lanthorn down. In a tremble, + Kenneth watched his every movement, but spoke no word. + </p> + <p> + “He who throws a main,” said Galliard, “must set a stake upon the board. I + set my life—a stake that is already forfeit—and I throw for + liberty. If I win, I win all; if I lose, I lose naught. 'Slife, I have + thrown many a main with Fate, but never one wherein the odds were more + generous. Come, Kenneth, it is the only way, and we will attempt it if we + can but move the bar.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean to leap?” gasped the lad. + </p> + <p> + “Into the river. It is the only way.” + </p> + <p> + “O God, I dare not. It is a fearsome drop.” + </p> + <p> + “Longer, I confess, than they'll give you in an hour's time, if you + remain; but it may lead elsewhere.” + </p> + <p> + The boy's mouth was parched. His eyes burned in their sockets, and yet his + limbs shook with cold—but not the cold of that September night. + </p> + <p> + “I'll try it,” he muttered with a gulp. Then suddenly clutching Galliard's + arm, he pointed to the window. + </p> + <p> + “What ails you now?” quoth Crispin testily. + </p> + <p> + “The dawn, Sir Crispin. The dawn.” + </p> + <p> + Crispin looked, and there, like a gash in the blackness of the heavens, he + beheld a streak of grey. + </p> + <p> + “Quick, Sir Crispin; there is no time to lose. The minister said he would + return at daybreak.” + </p> + <p> + “Let him come,” answered Galliard grimly, as he moved towards the + casement. + </p> + <p> + He gripped the lower bar with his lean, sinewy hands, and setting his knee + against the masonry beneath it, he exerted the whole of his huge strength—that + awful strength acquired during those years of toil as a galley-slave, + which even his debaucheries had not undermined. He felt his sinews + straining until it seemed that they must crack; the sweat stood out upon + his brow; his breathing grew stertorous. + </p> + <p> + “It gives,” he panted at last. “It gives.” + </p> + <p> + He paused in his efforts, and withdrew his hands. + </p> + <p> + “I must breathe a while. One other effort such as that, and it is done. + 'Fore George,” he laughed, “it is the first time water has stood my + friend, for the rains have sadly rusted that iron.” + </p> + <p> + Without, their sentry was pacing before the door; his steps came nearer, + passed, and receded; turned, came nigh again, and again passed on. As once + more they grew faint, Crispin seized the bar and renewed his attempt. This + time it was easier. Gradually it ceded to the strain Galliard set upon it. + </p> + <p> + Nearer came the sentry's footsteps, but they went unheeded by him who + toiled, and by him who watched with bated breath and beating heart. He + felt it giving—giving—giving. Crack! + </p> + <p> + With a report that rang through the room like a pistol shot, it broke off + in its socket. Both men caught their breath, and stood for a second + crouching, with straining ears. The sentry had stopped at their door. + </p> + <p> + Galliard was a man of quick action, swift to think, and as swift to + execute the thought. To thrust Kenneth into a corner, to extinguish the + light, and to fling himself upon the bed was all the work of an instant. + </p> + <p> + The key grated in the lock, and Crispin answered it with a resounding + snore. The door opened, and on the threshold stood the Roundhead trooper, + holding aloft a lanthorn whose rays were flashed back by his polished + cuirass. He beheld Crispin on the bed with closed eyes and open mouth, and + he heard his reassuring and melodious snore. He saw Kenneth seated + peacefully upon the floor, with his back against the wall, and for a + moment he was puzzled. + </p> + <p> + “Heard you aught?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Aye,” answered Kenneth, in a strangled voice, “I heard something like a + shot out there.” + </p> + <p> + The gesture with which he accompanied the words was fatal. Instinctively + he had jerked his thumb towards the window, thereby drawing the soldier's + eyes in that direction. The fellow's glance fell upon the twisted bar, and + a sharp exclamation of surprise escaped him. + </p> + <p> + Had he been aught but a fool he must have guessed at once how it came so, + and having guessed it, he must have thought twice ere he ventured within + reach of a man who could so handle iron. But he was a slow-reasoning clod, + and so far, thought had not yet taken the place of surprise. He stepped + into, the chamber and across to the window, that he might more closely + view that broken bar. + </p> + <p> + With eyes that were full of terror and despair, Kenneth watched him; their + last hope had failed them. Then, as he looked, it seemed to him that in + one great leap from his recumbent position on the bed, Crispin had fallen + upon the soldier. + </p> + <p> + The lanthorn was dashed from the fellow's hand, and rolled to Kenneth's + feet. The fellow had begun' a cry, which broke off suddenly into a gurgle + as Galliard's fingers closed about his windpipe. He was a big fellow, and + in his mad struggles he carried: Crispin hither and thither about the + room. Together: they hurtled against the table, which would have: gone + crashing over had not Kenneth caught it and drawn it softly to the wall. + </p> + <p> + Both men were now upon the bed. Crispin had guessed the soldier's intent + to fling himself upon the ground so that the ring of his armour might be + heard, and perchance bring others to his aid. To avoid this, Galliard had + swung him towards the bed, and hurled him on to it. There he pinned him + with his knee, and with his fingers he gripped the Roundhead's throat, + pressing the apple inwards with his thumb. + </p> + <p> + “The door, Kenneth!” he commanded, in a whisper. “Close the door!” + </p> + <p> + Vain were the trooper's struggles to free himself from that throttling + grip. Already his efforts grew his face was purple; his veins stood out in + ropes upon his brow till they seemed upon the point of bursting; his eyes + protruded like a lobster's and there was a horrible grin upon his mouth; + still his heels beat the bed, and still he struggled. With his fingers he + plucked madly at the throttling hands on his neck, and tore at them with + his nails until the blood streamed from them. Still Galliard held him + firmly, and with a smile—a diabolical smile it seemed to the poor, + half-strangled wretch—he gazed upon his choking victim. + </p> + <p> + “Someone comes!” gasped Kenneth suddenly. “Someone comes, Sir Crispin!” he + repeated, shaking his hands in a frenzy. + </p> + <p> + Galliard listened. Steps were approaching. The soldier heard them also, + and renewed his efforts. Then Crispin spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Why stand you there like a fool?” he growled. “Quench the light—stay, + we may want it! Cast your cloak over it! Quick, man, quick!” + </p> + <p> + The steps came nearer. The lad had obeyed him, and they were in darkness. + </p> + <p> + “Stand by the door,” whispered Crispin. “Fall upon him as he enters, and + see that no cry escapes him. Take him by the throat, and as you love your + life, do not let him get away.” + </p> + <p> + The footsteps halted. Kenneth crawled softly to his post. The soldier's + struggles grew of a sudden still, and Crispin released his throat at last. + Then calmly drawing the fellow's dagger, he felt for the straps of his + cuirass, and these he proceeded to cut. As he did so the door was opened. + </p> + <p> + By the light of the lamp burning in the passage they beheld silhouetted + upon the threshold a black figure crowned by a steeple hat. Then the + droning voice of the Puritan minister greeted them. + </p> + <p> + “Your hour is at hand!” he announced. + </p> + <p> + “Is it time?” asked Galliard from the bed. And as he put the question he + softly thrust aside the trooper's breastplate, and set his hand to the + fellow's heart. It still beat faintly. + </p> + <p> + “In another hour they will come for you,” answered the minister. And + Crispin marvelled anxiously what Kenneth was about. “Repent then, + miserable sinners, whilst yet—” + </p> + <p> + He broke off abruptly, awaking out of his religious zeal to a sense of + strangeness at the darkness and the absence of the sentry, which hitherto + he had not remarked. + </p> + <p> + “What hath—” he began. Then Galliard heard a gasp, followed by the + noise of a fall, and two struggling men came rolling across the chamber + floor. + </p> + <p> + “Bravely done, boy!” he cried, almost mirthfully. “Cling to him, Kenneth; + cling to him a second yet!” + </p> + <p> + He leapt from the bed, and guided by the faint light coming through the + door, he sprang across the intervening space and softly closed it. Then he + groped his way along the wall to the spot where he had seen the lanthorn + stand when Kenneth had flung his cloak over it. As he went, the two + striving men came up against him. + </p> + <p> + “Hold fast, lad,” he cried, encouraging Kenneth, “hold him yet a moment, + and I will relieve you!” + </p> + <p> + He reached the lanthorn at last, and pulling aside the cloak, he lifted + the light and set it upon the table. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. THE BARGAIN + </h2> + <p> + By the lanthorn's yellow glare Crispin beheld the two men-a mass of + writhing bodies and a bunch of waving legs—upon the ground. Kenneth, + who was uppermost, clung purposefully to the parson's throat. The faces of + both were alike distorted, but whilst the lad's breath came in gasping + hisses, the other's came not at all. + </p> + <p> + Going over to the bed, Crispin drew the unconscious trooper's tuck-sword. + He paused for a moment to bend over the man's face; his breath came + faintly, and Crispin knew that ere many moments were sped he would regain + consciousness. He smiled grimly to see how well he had performed his work + of suffocation without yet utterly destroying life. + </p> + <p> + Sword in hand, he returned to Kenneth and the parson. The Puritan's + struggles were already becoming mere spasmodic twitchings; his face was as + ghastly as the trooper's had been a while ago. + </p> + <p> + “Release him, Kenneth,” said Crispin shortly. + </p> + <p> + “He struggles still.” + </p> + <p> + “Release him, I say,” Galliard repeated, and stooping he caught the lad's + wrist and compelled him to abandon his hold. + </p> + <p> + “He will cry out,” exclaimed Kenneth, in apprehension. + </p> + <p> + “Not he,” laughed Crispin. “Leastways, not yet awhile. Observe the + wretch.” + </p> + <p> + With mouth wide agape, the minister lay gasping like a fish newly taken + from the water. Even now that his throat was free he appeared to struggle + for a moment before he could draw breath. Then he took it in panting gulps + until it seemed that he must choke in his gluttony of air. + </p> + <p> + “Fore George,” quoth Crispin, “I was no more than in time. Another second, + and we should have had him, too, unconscious. There, he is recovering.” + </p> + <p> + The blood was receding from the swollen veins of the parson's head, and + his cheeks were paling to their normal hue. Anon they went yet paler than + their wont, as Galliard rested the point of his sword against the fellow's + neck. + </p> + <p> + “Make sound or movement,” said Crispin coldly, “and I'll pin you to the + floor like a beetle. Obey me, and no harm shall come to you.” + </p> + <p> + “I will obey you,” the fellow answered, in a wheezing whisper. “I swear I + will. But of your charity, good sir, I beseech you remove your sword. Your + hand might slip, sir,” he whined, a wild terror in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + Where now was the deep bass of his whilom accents? Where now the grotesque + majesty of his bearing, and the impressive gestures that erstwhile had + accompanied his words of denunciation? + </p> + <p> + “Your hand might slip, sir,” he whined again. + </p> + <p> + “It might—and, by Gad, it shall if I hear more from you. So that you + are discreet and obedient, have no fear of my hand.” Then, still keeping + his eye upon the fellow: “Kenneth,” he said, “attend to the crop-ear + yonder, he will be recovering. Truss him with the bedclothes, and gag him + with his scarf. See to it, Kenneth, and do it well, but leave his nostrils + free that he may breathe.” + </p> + <p> + Kenneth carried out Galliard's orders swiftly and effectively, what time + Crispin remained standing over the recumbent minister. At length, when + Kenneth announced that it was done, he bade the Puritan rise. + </p> + <p> + “But have a care,” he added, “or you shall taste the joys of the Paradise + you preach of. Come, sir parson; afoot!” + </p> + <p> + A prey to a fear that compelled unquestioning obedience, the fellow rose + with alacrity. + </p> + <p> + “Stand there, sir. So,” commanded Crispin, his point within an inch of the + man's Geneva bands. “Take your kerchief, Kenneth, and pinion his wrists + behind him.” + </p> + <p> + That done, Crispin bade the lad unbuckle and remove the parson's belt. + Next he ordered that man of texts to be seated upon their only chair, and + with that same belt he commanded Kenneth to strap him to it. When at + length the Puritan was safely bound, Crispin lowered his rapier, and + seated himself upon the table edge beside him. + </p> + <p> + “Now, sir parson,” quoth he, “let us talk a while. At your first outcry I + shall hurry you into that future world whither it is your mission to guide + the souls of others. Maybe you'll find it a better world to preach of than + to inhabit, and so, for your own sake, I make no doubt you will obey me. + To your honour, to your good sense and a parson's natural horror of a lie, + I look for truth in answer to what questions I may set you. Should I find + you deceiving me, sir, I shall see that your falsehood overtakes you.” And + eloquently raising his blade, he intimated the exact course he would + adopt. “Now, sir, attend to me. How soon are our friends likely to + discover this topsy-turvydom?” + </p> + <p> + “When they come for you,” answered the parson meekly. + </p> + <p> + “And how soon, O prophet, will they come?” + </p> + <p> + “In an hour's time, or thereabout,” replied the Puritan, glancing towards + the window as he spoke. Galliard followed his glance, and observed that + the light was growing perceptibly stronger. + </p> + <p> + “Aye,” he commented, “in an hour's time there should be light enough to + hang us by. Is there no chance of anyone coming sooner?” + </p> + <p> + “None that I can imagine. The only other occupants of the house are a + party of half a dozen troopers in the guardroom below.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is the Lord General?” + </p> + <p> + “Away—I know not where. But he will be here at sunrise.” + </p> + <p> + “And the sentry that was at our door—is he not to a changed 'twixt + this and hanging-time?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot say for sure, but I think not. The guard was relieved just + before I came.” + </p> + <p> + “And the men in the guardroom—answer me truthfully, O Elijah—what + manner of watch are they keeping?” + </p> + <p> + “Alas, sir, they have drunk enough this night to put a rakehelly Cavalier + to shame. I was but exhorting them.” + </p> + <p> + When Kenneth had removed the Puritan's girdle, a small Bible—such as + men of his calling were wont to carry—had dropped out. This Kenneth + had placed upon the table. Galliard now took it up, and, holding it before + the Puritan's eyes, he watched him narrowly the while. + </p> + <p> + “Will you swear by this book that you have answered nothing but the + truth?” + </p> + <p> + Without a moment's hesitation the parson pledged his oath, that, to the + best of his belief, he had answered accurately. + </p> + <p> + “That is well, sir. And now, though it grieve me to cause you some slight + discomfort, I must ensure your silence, my friend.” + </p> + <p> + And, placing his sword upon the table, he passed behind the Puritan, and + taking the man's own scarf, he effectively gagged him with it. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Kenneth,” said he, turning to the lad. Then he stopped abruptly as + if smitten by a sudden thought. Presently—“Kenneth,” he continued in + a different tone, “a while ago I mind me you said that were your liberty + restored you, you would join hands with me in punishing the evildoers who + wrecked my life.” + </p> + <p> + “I did, Sir Crispin.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment the knight paused. It was a vile thing that he was about to + do, he told himself, and as he realized how vile, his impulse was to say + no more; to abandon the suddenly formed project and to trust to his own + unaided wits and hands. But as again he thought of the vast use this lad + would be to him—this lad who was the betrothed of Cynthia Ashburn—he + saw that the matter was not one hastily to be judged and dismissed. + Carefully he weighed it in the balance of his mind. On the one hand was + the knowledge that did they succeed in making good their escape, Kenneth + would naturally fly for shelter to his friends the Ashburns—the + usurpers of Castle Marleigh. What then more natural than his taking with + him the man who had helped him to escape, and who shared his own danger of + recapture? And with so plausible a motive for admission to Castle + Marleigh, how easy would not his vengeance become? He might at first wean + himself into their good graces, and afterwards— + </p> + <p> + Before his mental eyes there unfolded itself the vista of a great revenge; + one that should be worthy of him, and commensurate with the foul deed that + called for it. + </p> + <p> + In the other scale the treacherous flavour of this method weighed heavily. + He proposed to bind the lad to a promise, the shape of whose fulfilment he + would withhold—a promise the lad would readily give, and yet, one + that he must sooner die than enter into, did he but know what manner of + fulfilment would be exacted. It amounted to betraying the lad into a + betrayal of his friends—the people of his future wife. Whatever the + issue for Crispin, 'twas odds Kenneth's prospect of wedding this Cynthia + would be blighted for all time by the action into which Galliard proposed + to thrust him all unconscious. + </p> + <p> + So stood the case in Galliard's mind, and the scales fell now on one side, + now on the other. But against his scruples rose the memory of the + treatment which the lad had meted out to him that night; the harshness of + the boy's judgment; the irrevocable contempt wherein he had clearly seen + that he was held by this fatuous milksop. All this aroused his rancour + now, and steeled his heart against the voice of honour. What was this boy + to him, he asked himself, that he should forego for him the accomplishing + of his designs? How had this lad earned any consideration from him? What + did he owe him? Naught! Still, he would not decide in haste. + </p> + <p> + It was characteristic of the man whom Kenneth held to be destitute of all + honourable principles, to stand thus in the midst of perils, when every + second that sped lessened their chances of escape, turning over in his + mind calmly and collectedly a point of conduct. It was in his passions + only that Crispin was ungovernable, in violence only that he was swift—in + all things else was he deliberate. + </p> + <p> + Of this Kenneth had now a proof that set him quaking with impatient fear. + Anxiously, his hands clenched and his face pale, he watched his companion, + who stood with brows knit in thought, and his grey eyes staring at the + ground. At length he could brook that, to him, incomprehensible and mad + delay no longer. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Crispin,” he whispered, plucking at his sleeve; “Sir Crispin.” + </p> + <p> + The knight flashed him a glance that was almost of anger. Then the fire + died out of his eyes; he sighed and spoke. In that second's glance he had + seen the lad's face; the fear and impatience written on it had disgusted + him, and caused the scales to fall suddenly and definitely against the + boy. + </p> + <p> + “I was thinking how it might be accomplished,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “There is but one way,” cried the lad. + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary, there are two, and I wish to choose carefully.” + </p> + <p> + “If you delay your choice much longer, none will be left you,” cried + Kenneth impatiently. + </p> + <p> + Noting the lad's growing fears, and resolved now upon his course, Galliard + set himself to play upon them until terror should render the boy as wax in + his hands. + </p> + <p> + “There speaks your callow inexperience,” said he, with a pitying smile. + “When you shall have lived as long as I have done, and endured as much; + when you shall have set your wits to the saving of your life as often as + have I—you will have learnt that haste is fatal to all enterprises. + Failure means the forfeiture of something; tonight it would mean the + forfeiture of our lives, and it were a pity to let such good efforts as + these”—and with a wave of the hand he indicated their two captors—“go + wasted.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” exclaimed Kenneth, well-nigh beside himself, “if you come not with + me, I go alone!” + </p> + <p> + “Whither?” asked Crispin dryly. + </p> + <p> + “Out of this.” + </p> + <p> + Galliard bowed slightly. + </p> + <p> + “Fare you well, sir. I'll not detain you. Your way is clear, and it is for + you to choose between the door and the window.” + </p> + <p> + And with that Crispin turned his back upon his companion and crossed to + the bed, where the trooper lay glaring in mute anger. He stooped, and + unbuckling the soldier's swordbelt—to which the scabbard was + attached—he girt himself with it. Without raising his eyes, and + keeping his back to Kenneth, who stood between him and the door, he went + next to the table, and, taking up the sword that he had left there, he + restored it to the sheath. As the hilt clicked against the mouth of the + scabbard: + </p> + <p> + “Come, Sir Crispin!” cried the lad. “Are you ready?” + </p> + <p> + Galliard wheeled sharply round. + </p> + <p> + “How? Not gone yet?” said he sardonically. + </p> + <p> + “I dare not,” the lad confessed. “I dare not go alone.” + </p> + <p> + Galliard laughed softly; then suddenly waxed grave. + </p> + <p> + “Ere we go, Master Kenneth, I would again remind you of your assurance + that were we to regain our liberty you would aid me in the task of + vengeance that lies before me.” + </p> + <p> + “Once already have I answered you that it is so.” + </p> + <p> + “And pray, are you still of the same mind?” + </p> + <p> + “I am, I am! Anything, Sir Crispin; anything so that you come away!” + </p> + <p> + “Not so fast, Kenneth. The promise that I shall ask of you is not to be so + lightly given. If we escape I may fairly claim to have saved your life, + 'twixt what I have done and what I may yet do. Is it not so?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I acknowledge it!” + </p> + <p> + “Then, sir, in payment I shall expect your aid hereafter to help me in + that which I must accomplish, that which the hope of accomplishing is the + only spur to my own escape.” + </p> + <p> + “You have my promise!” cried the lad. + </p> + <p> + “Do not give it lightly, Kenneth,” said Crispin gravely. “It may cause you + much discomfort, and may be fraught with danger even to your life.” + </p> + <p> + “I promise.” + </p> + <p> + Galliard bowed his head; then, turning, he took the Bible from the table. + </p> + <p> + “With your hand upon this book, by your honour, your faith, and your every + hope of salvation, swear that if I bear you alive out of this house you + will devote yourself to me and to my task of vengeance until it shall be + accomplished or until I perish; swear that you will set aside all personal + matters and inclinations of your own, to serve me when I shall call upon + you. Swear that, and, in return, I will give my life if need be to save + yours to-night, in which case you will be released from your oath without + more ado.” + </p> + <p> + The lad paused a moment. Crispin was so impressive, the oath he imposed so + solemn, that for an instant the boy hesitated. His cautious, timid nature + whispered to him that perchance he should know more of this matter ere he + bound himself so irrevocably. But Crispin, noting the hesitation, stifled + it by appealing to the lad's fears. + </p> + <p> + “Resolve yourself,” he exclaimed abruptly. “It grows light, and the time + for haste is come.” + </p> + <p> + “I swear!” answered Kenneth, overcome by his impatience. “I swear, by my + honour, my faith, and my every hope of heaven to lend you my aid, when and + how you may demand it, until your task be accomplished.” + </p> + <p> + Crispin took the Bible from the boy's hands, and replaced it on the table. + His lips were pressed tight, and he avoided the lad's eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You shall not find me wanting in my part of the bargain,” he muttered, as + he took up the soldier's cloak and hat. “Come, take that parson's steeple + hat and his cloak, and let us be going.” + </p> + <p> + He crossed to the door, and opening it he peered down the passage. A + moment he stood listening. All was still. Then he turned again. In the + chamber the steely light of the breaking day was rendering more yellow + still the lanthorn's yellow flame. + </p> + <p> + “Fare you well, sir parson,” he said. “Forgive me the discomfort I have + been forced to put upon you, and pray for the success of our escape. + Commend me to Oliver of the ruby nose. Fare you well, sir. Come, Kenneth.” + </p> + <p> + He held the door for the lad to pass out. As they stood in the dimly + lighted passage he closed it softly after them, and turned the key in the + lock. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” he said again, and led the way to the stairs, Kenneth tiptoeing + after him with wildly beating heart. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. THE ESCAPE + </h2> + <p> + Treading softly, and with ears straining for the slightest sound, the two + men descended to the first floor of the house. They heard nothing to alarm + them as they crept down, and not until they paused on the first landing to + reconnoitre did they even catch the murmur of voices issuing from the + guardroom below. So muffled was the sound that Crispin guessed how matters + stood even before he had looked over the balusters into the hall beneath. + The faint grey of the dawn was the only light that penetrated the gloom of + that pit. + </p> + <p> + “The Fates are kind, Kenneth,” he whispered. “Those fools sit with closed + doors. Come.” + </p> + <p> + But Kenneth laid his hand upon Galliard's sleeve. “What if the door should + open as we pass?” + </p> + <p> + “Someone will die,” muttered Crispin back. “But pray God that it may not. + We must run the risk.” + </p> + <p> + “Is there no other way?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes,” returned Galliard sardonically, “we can linger here until we + are taken. But, oddslife, I'm not so minded. Come.” + </p> + <p> + And as he spoke he drew the lad along. + </p> + <p> + His foot was upon the topmost stair of the flight, when of a sudden the + stillness of the house was broken by a loud knock upon the street door. + Instantly—as though they had been awaiting it there was a stir of + feet below and the bang of an overturned chair; then a shaft of yellow + light fell athwart the darkness of the hall as the guardroom door was + opened. + </p> + <p> + “Back!” growled Galliard. “Back, man!” + </p> + <p> + They were but in time. Peering over the balusters they saw two troopers + pass out of the guardroom, and cross the hall to the door. A bolt was + drawn and a chain rattled, then followed the creak of hinges, and on the + stone flags rang the footsteps and the jingling of spurs of those that + entered. + </p> + <p> + “Is all well?” came a voice, which Crispin recognized as Colonel Pride's, + followed by an affirmative reply from one of the soldiers. + </p> + <p> + “Hath a minister visited the malignants?” + </p> + <p> + “Master Toneleigh is with them even now.” + </p> + <p> + In the hall Crispin could now make out the figures of Colonel Pride and of + three men who came with him. But he had scant leisure to survey them, for + the colonel was in haste. + </p> + <p> + “Come, sirs,” he heard him say, “light me to their garret. I would see + them—leastways, one of them, before he dies. They are to hang where + the Moabites hanged Gives yesterday. Had I my way... But, there lead on, + fellow.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, God!” gasped Kenneth, as the soldier set foot upon the stairs. Under + his breath Crispin swore a terrific oath. For an instant it seemed to him + there was naught left but to stand there and await recapture. Through his + mind it flashed that they were five, and he but one; for his companion was + unarmed. + </p> + <p> + With that swiftness which thought alone can compass did he weigh the odds, + and judge his chances. He realized how desperate they were did he remain, + and even as he thought he glanced sharply round. + </p> + <p> + Dim indeed was the light, but his sight was keen, and quickened by the + imminence of danger. Partly his eyes and partly his instinct told him that + not six paces behind him there must be a door, and if Heaven pleased it + should be unlocked, behind it they must look for shelter. It even crossed + his mind in that second of crowding, galloping thought, that perchance the + room might be occupied. That was a risk he must take—the lesser risk + of the two, the choice of one of which was forced upon him. He had + determined all this ere the soldier's foot was upon the third step of the + staircase, and before the colonel had commenced the ascent. Kenneth stood + palsied with fear, gazing like one fascinated at the approaching peril. + </p> + <p> + Then upon his ear fell the fierce whisper: “Come with me, and tread + lightly as you love your life.” + </p> + <p> + In three long strides, and by steps that were softer than a cat's, Crispin + crossed to the door which he had rather guessed than seen. He ran his hand + along until he caught the latch. Softly he tried it; it gave, and the door + opened. Kenneth was by then beside him. He paused to look back. + </p> + <p> + On the opposite wall the light of the trooper's lanthorn fell brightly. + Another moment and the fellow would have reached and turned the corner of + the stairs, and his light must reveal them to him. But ere that instant + was passed Crispin had drawn his companion through, and closed the door as + softly as he had opened it. The chamber was untenanted and almost bare of + furniture, at which discovery Crispin breathed more freely. + </p> + <p> + They stood there, and heard the ascending footsteps, and the clank-clank + of a sword against the stair-rail. A bar of yellow light came under the + door that sheltered them. Stronger it grew and farther it crept along the + floor; then stopped and receded again, as he who bore the lanthorn turned + and began to climb to the second floor. An instant later and the light had + vanished, eclipsed by those who followed in the fellow's wake. + </p> + <p> + “The window, Sir Crispin,” cried Kenneth, in an excited whisper—“the + window!” + </p> + <p> + “No,” answered Crispin calmly. “The drop is a long one, and we should but + light in the streets, and be little better than we are here. Wait.” + </p> + <p> + He listened. The footsteps had turned the corner leading to the floor + above. He opened the door, partly at first, then wide. For an instant he + stood listening again. The steps were well overhead by now; soon they + would mount the last flight, and then discovery must be swift to follow. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” was all Crispin said, and, drawing his sword he led the way + swiftly, yet cautiously, to the stairs once more. In passing he glanced + over the rails. The guardroom door stood ajar, and he caught the murmurs + of subdued conversation. But he did not pause. Had the door stood wide he + would not have paused then. There was not a second to be lost; to wait was + to increase the already overwhelming danger. Cautiously, and leaning well + upon the stout baluster, he began the descent. Kenneth followed him + mechanically, with white face and a feeling of suffocation in his throat. + </p> + <p> + They gained the corner, and turning, they began what was truly the + perilous part of their journey. Not more than a dozen steps were there; + but at the bottom stood the guardroom door, and through the chink of its + opening a shaft of light fell upon the nethermost step. Once a stair + creaked, and to their quickened senses it sounded like a pistol-shot. As + loud to Crispin sounded the indrawn breath of apprehension from Kenneth + that followed it. He had almost paused to curse the lad when, thinking him + of how time pressed, he went on. + </p> + <p> + Within three steps of the bottom were they, and they could almost + distinguish what was being said in the room, when Crispin stopped, and + turning his head to attract Kenneth's attention, he pointed straight + across the hall to a dimly visible door. It was that of the chamber + wherein he had been brought before Cromwell. Its position had occurred to + him some moments before, and he had determined then upon going that way. + </p> + <p> + The lad followed the indication of his finger, and signified by a nod that + he understood. Another step Galliard descended; then from the guardroom + came a loud yawn, to send the boy cowering against the wall. It was + followed by the sound of someone rising; a chair grated upon the floor, + and there was a movement of feet within the chamber. Had Kenneth been + alone, of a certainty terror would have frozen him to the wall. + </p> + <p> + But the calm, unmovable Crispin proceeded as if naught had chanced; he + argued that even if he who had risen were coming towards the door, there + was nothing to be gained by standing still. Their only chance lay now in + passing before it might be opened. + </p> + <p> + They that walk through perils in a brave man's company cannot but gain + confidence from the calm of his demeanour. So was it now with Kenneth. The + steady onward march of that tall, lank figure before him drew him + irresistibly after it despite his tremors. And well it was for him that + this was so. They gained the bottom of the staircase at length; they stood + beside the door of the guardroom, they passed it in safety. Then slowly—painfully + slowly—to avoid their steps from ringing upon the stone floor, they + crept across towards the door that meant safety to Sir Crispin. Slowly, + step by step, they moved, and with every stride Crispin looked behind him, + prepared to rush the moment he had sign they were discovered. But it was + not needed. In silence and in safety they were permitted to reach the + door. To Crispin's joy it was unfastened. Quietly he opened it, then with + calm gallantry he motioned to his companion to go first, holding it for + him as he passed in, and keeping watch with eye and ear the while. + </p> + <p> + Scarce had Kenneth entered the chamber when from above came the sound of + loud and excited voices, announcing to them that their flight was at last + discovered. It was responded to by a rush of feet in the guardroom, and + Crispin had but time to dart in after his companion and close the door ere + the troopers poured out into the hall and up the stairs, with confused + shouts that something must be amiss. + </p> + <p> + Within the room that sheltered him Crispin chuckled, as he ran his hand + along the edge of the door until he found the bolt, and softly shot it + home. + </p> + <p> + “'Slife,” he muttered, “'twas a close thing! Aye, shout, you cuckolds,” he + went on. “Yell yourselves hoarse as the crows you are! You'll hang us + where Gives are hanged, will you?” + </p> + <p> + Kenneth tugged at the skirts of his doublet. “What now?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said Crispin, “we'll leave by the window, if it please you.” + </p> + <p> + They crossed the room, and a moment or two later they had dropped on to + the narrow railed pathway overlooking the river, which Crispin had + observed from their prison window the evening before. He had observed, + too, that a small boat was moored at some steps about a hundred yards + farther down the stream, and towards that spot he now sped along the + footpath, followed closely by Kenneth. The path sloped in that direction, + so that by the time the spot was reached the water flowed not more than + six feet or so beneath them. Half a dozen steps took them down this to the + moorings of that boat, which fortunately had not been removed. + </p> + <p> + “Get in, Kenneth,” Crispin commanded. “There, I'll take the oars, and I'll + keep under shelter of the bank lest those blunderers should bethink them + of looking out of our prison window. Oddswounds, Kenneth, I am hungry as a + wolf, and as dry—ough, as dry as Dives when he begged for a sup of + water. Heaven send we come upon some good malignant homestead ere we go + far, where a Christian may find a meal and a stoup of ale. 'Tis a miracle + I had strength enough to crawl downstairs. Swounds, but an empty stomach + is a craven comrade in a desperate enterprise. Hey! Have a care, boy. Now, + sink me if this milksop hasn't fainted!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. THE ASHBURNS + </h2> + <p> + Gregory Ashburn pushed back his chair and made shift to rise from the + table at which he and his brother had but dined. + </p> + <p> + He was a tall, heavily built man, with a coarse, florid countenance set in + a frame of reddish hair that hung straight and limp. In the colour of + their hair lay the only point of resemblance between the brothers. For the + rest Joseph was spare and of middle weight, pale of face, thin-lipped, and + owning a cunning expression that was rendered very evil by virtue of the + slight cast in his colourless eyes. + </p> + <p> + In earlier life Gregory had not been unhandsome; debauchery and sloth had + puffed and coarsened him. Joseph, on the other hand, had never been aught + but ill-favoured. + </p> + <p> + “Tis a week since Worcester field was fought,” grumbled Gregory, looking + lazily sideways at the mullioned windows as he spoke, “and never a word + from the lad.” + </p> + <p> + Joseph shrugged his narrow shoulders and sneered. It was Joseph's habit to + sneer when he spoke, and his words were wont to fit the sneer. + </p> + <p> + “Doth the lack of news trouble you?” he asked, glancing across the table + at his brother. + </p> + <p> + Gregory rose without meeting that glance. + </p> + <p> + “Truth to tell it does trouble me,” he muttered. + </p> + <p> + “And yet,” quoth Joseph, “tis a natural thing enough. When battles are + fought it is not uncommon for men to die.” + </p> + <p> + Gregory crossed slowly to the window, and stared out at the trees of the + park which autumn was fast stripping. + </p> + <p> + “If he were among the fallen—if he were dead then indeed the matter + would be at an end.” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, and well ended.” + </p> + <p> + “You forget Cynthia,” Gregory reproved him. + </p> + <p> + “Forget her? Not I, man. Listen.” And he jerked his thumb in the direction + of the wainscot. + </p> + <p> + To the two men in that rich chamber of Castle Marleigh was borne the sound—softened + by distance of a girlish voice merrily singing. + </p> + <p> + Joseph laughed a cackle of contempt. + </p> + <p> + “Is that the song of a maid whose lover comes not back from the wars?” he + asked. + </p> + <p> + “But bethink you, Joseph, the child suspects not the possibility of his + having fallen.” + </p> + <p> + “Gadswounds, sir, did your daughter give the fellow a thought she must be + anxious. A week yesterday since the battle, and no word from him. I dare + swear, Gregory, there's little in that to warrant his mistress singing.” + </p> + <p> + “Cynthia is young—a child. She reasons not as you and I, nor seeks + to account for his absence.” + </p> + <p> + “Troubles not to account for it,” Joseph amended. + </p> + <p> + “Be that as it may,” returned Gregory irritably, “I would I knew.” + </p> + <p> + “That which we do not know we may sometimes infer. I infer him to be dead, + and there's the end of it.” + </p> + <p> + “What if he should not be?” + </p> + <p> + “Then, my good fool, he would be here.” + </p> + <p> + “It is unlike you, Joseph, to argue so loosely. What if he should be a + prisoner?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, then, the plantations will do that which the battle hath left + undone. So that, dead or captive, you see it is all one.” + </p> + <p> + And, lifting his glass to the light, he closed one eye, the better to + survey with the other the rich colour of the wine. Not that Joseph was + curious touching that colour, but he was a juggler in gestures, and at + that moment he could think of no other whereby he might so naturally + convey the utter indifference of his feelings in the matter. + </p> + <p> + “Joseph, you are wrong,” said Gregory, turning his back upon the window + and facing his brother. “It is not all one. What if he return some day?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what if—what if—what if!” cried Joseph testily. “Gregory, + what a casuist you might have been had not nature made you a villain! You + are as full of “what if s” as an egg of meat. Well what if some day he + should return? I fling your question back—what if?” + </p> + <p> + “God only knows.” + </p> + <p> + “Then leave it to Him,” was the flippant answer; and Joseph drained his + glass. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, brother, 'twere too great a risk. I must and I will know whether + Kenneth were slain or not. If he is a prisoner, then we must exert + ourselves to win his freedom.” + </p> + <p> + “Plague take it,” Joseph burst out. “Why all this ado? Why did you ever + loose that graceless whelp from his Scottish moor?” + </p> + <p> + Gregory sighed with an air of resigned patience. + </p> + <p> + “I have more reasons than one,” he answered slowly. “If you need that I + recite them to you, I pity your wits. Look you, Joseph, you have more + influence with Cromwell; more—far more—than have I, and if you + are minded to do so, you can serve me in this.” + </p> + <p> + “I wait but to learn how.” + </p> + <p> + “Then go to Cromwell, at Windsor or wherever he may be, and seek to learn + from him if Kenneth is a prisoner. If he is not, then clearly he is dead.” + </p> + <p> + Joseph made a gesture of impatience. + </p> + <p> + “Can you not leave Fate alone?” + </p> + <p> + “Think you I have no conscience, Joseph?” cried the other with sudden + vigour. + </p> + <p> + “Pish! you are womanish.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, Joseph, I am old. I am in the autumn of my days, and I would see + these two wed before I die.” + </p> + <p> + “And are damned for a croaking, maudlin' craven,” added Joseph. “Pah! You + make me sick.” + </p> + <p> + There was a moment's silence, during which the brothers eyed each other, + Gregory with a sternness before which Joseph's mocking eye was forced at + length to fall. + </p> + <p> + “Joseph, you shall go to the Lord General.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Joseph weakly, “we will say that I go. But if Kenneth be a + prisoner, what then?” + </p> + <p> + “You must beg his liberty from Cromwell. He will not refuse you.” + </p> + <p> + “Will he not? I am none so confident.” + </p> + <p> + “But you can make the attempt, and leastways we shall have some definite + knowledge of what has befallen the boy.” + </p> + <p> + “The which definite knowledge seems to me none so necessary. Moreover, + Gregory, bethink you; there has been a change, and the wind carries an + edge that will arouse every devil of rheumatism in my bones. I am not a + lad, Gregory, and travelling at this season is no small matter for a man + of fifty.” + </p> + <p> + Gregory approached the table, and leaning his hand upon it: + </p> + <p> + “Will you go?” he asked, squarely eyeing his brother. + </p> + <p> + Joseph fell a-pondering. He knew Gregory to be a man of fixed ideas, and + he bethought him that were he now to refuse he would be hourly plagued by + Gregory's speculations touching the boy's fate and recriminations touching + his own selfishness. On the other hand, however, the journey daunted him. + He was not a man to sacrifice his creature comforts, and to be asked to + sacrifice them to a mere whim, a shadow, added weight to his inclination + to refuse the undertaking. + </p> + <p> + “Since you have the matter so much at heart,” said he at length, “does it + not occur to you that you could plead with greater fervour, and be the + likelier to succeed?” + </p> + <p> + “You know that Cromwell will lend a more willing ear to you than to me—perchance + because you know so well upon occasion how to weave your stock of texts + into your discourse,” he added with a sneer. “Will you go, Joseph?” + </p> + <p> + “Bethink you that we know not where he is. I may have to wander for weeks + o'er the face of England.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you go?” Gregory repeated. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, a pox on it,” broke out Joseph, rising suddenly. “I'll go since + naught else will quiet you. I'll start to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Joseph, I am grateful. I shall be more grateful yet if you will start + to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “No, sink me, no.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sink me, yes,” returned Gregory. “You must, Joseph.” + </p> + <p> + Joseph spoke of the wind again; the sky, he urged, was heavy with rain. + “What signifies a day?” he whined. + </p> + <p> + But Gregory stood his ground until almost out of self-protection the other + consented to do his bidding and set out as soon as he could make ready. + </p> + <p> + This being determined, Joseph left his brother, and cursing Master Stewart + for the amount of discomfort which he was about to endure on his behoof, + he went to prepare for the journey. + </p> + <p> + Gregory lingered still in the chamber where they had dined, and sat + staring moodily before him at the table-linen. Anon, with a half-laugh of + contempt, he filled a glass of muscadine, and drained it. As he set down + the glass the door opened, and on the threshold stood a very dainty girl, + whose age could not be more than twenty. Gregory looked on the fresh, oval + face, with its wealth of brown hair crowning the low, broad forehead, and + told himself that in his daughter he had just cause for pride. He looked + again, and told himself that his brother was right; she had not the air of + a maid whose lover returns not from the wars. Her lips were smiling, and + the eyes—low-lidded and blue as the heavens—were bright with + mirth. + </p> + <p> + “Why sit you there so glum,” she cried, “whilst my uncle, they tell me, is + going on a journey?” + </p> + <p> + Gregory was minded to put her feelings to the test. + </p> + <p> + “Kenneth,” he replied with significant emphasis, watching her closely. + </p> + <p> + The mirth faded from her eyes, and they took on a grave expression that + added to their charm. But Gregory had looked for fear, leastways deep + concern, and in this he was disappointed. + </p> + <p> + “What of him, father?” she asked, approaching. + </p> + <p> + “Naught, and that's the rub. It is time we had news, and as none comes, + your uncle goes to seek it.” + </p> + <p> + “Think you that ill can have befallen him?” + </p> + <p> + Gregory was silent a moment, weighing his answer. Then + </p> + <p> + “We hope not, sweetheart,” said he. “He may be a prisoner. We last had + news of him from Worcester, and 'tis a week and more since the battle was + fought there. Should he be a captive, your uncle has sufficient influence + to obtain his enlargement.” + </p> + <p> + Cynthia sighed, and moved towards the window. + </p> + <p> + “Poor Kenneth,” she murmured gently. “He may be wounded.” + </p> + <p> + “We shall soon learn,” he answered. His disappointment grew keener; where + he had looked for grief he found no more than an expression of pitying + concern. Nor was his disappointment lessened when, after a spell of + thoughtful silence, she began to comment upon the condition of the trees + in the park below. Gregory had it in his mind to chide her for this lack + of interest in the fate of her intended husband, but he let the impulse + pass unheeded. After all, if Kenneth lived she should marry him. Hitherto + she had been docile and willing enough to be guided by him; she had even + displayed a kindness for Kenneth; no doubt she would do so again when + Joseph returned with him—unless he were among the Worcester slain, + in which case, perhaps, it would prove best that his fate was not to cause + her any prostration of grief. + </p> + <p> + “The sky is heavy, father,” said Cynthia from the window. “Poor uncle! He + will have rough weather for his journey.” + </p> + <p> + “I rejoice that someone wastes pity on poor uncle,” growled Joseph, who + re-entered, “this uncle whom your father drives out of doors in all + weathers to look for his daughter's truant lover.” + </p> + <p> + Cynthia smiled upon him. + </p> + <p> + “It is heroic of you, uncle.” + </p> + <p> + “There, there,” he grumbled, “I shall do my best to find the laggard, lest + those pretty eyes should weep away their beauty.” + </p> + <p> + Gregory's glance reproved this sneer of Joseph's, whereupon Joseph drew + close to him: + </p> + <p> + “Broken-hearted, is she not?” he muttered, to which Gregory returned no + answer. + </p> + <p> + An hour later, as Joseph climbed into his saddle, he turned to his brother + again, and directing his eyes upon the girl, who stood patting the glossy + neck of his nag: + </p> + <p> + “Come, now,” said he, “you see that matters are as I said.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet,” replied Gregory sternly, “I hope to see you return with the + boy. It will be better so.” + </p> + <p> + Joseph shrugged his shoulders contemptuously. Then, taking leave of his + brother and his niece, he rode out with two grooms at his heels, and took + the road South. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. THE HOUSE THAT WAS ROLAND MARLEIGH'S + </h2> + <p> + It was high noon next day, and Gregory Ashburn was taking the air upon the + noble terrace of Castle Marleigh, when the beat of hoofs, rapidly + approaching up the avenue, arrested his attention. He stopped in his walk, + and, turning, sought to discover who came. His first thought was of his + brother; his second, of Kenneth. Through the half-denuded trees he made + out two mounted figures, riding side by side; and from the fact of there + being two, he adduced that this could not be Joseph returning. + </p> + <p> + Even as he waited he was joined by Cynthia, who took her stand beside him, + and voiced the inquiry that was in his mind. But her father could no more + than answer that he hoped it might be Kenneth. + </p> + <p> + Then the horsemen passed from behind the screen of trees and came into the + clearing before the terrace, and unto the waiting glances of Ashburn and + his daughter was revealed a curiously bedraggled and ill-assorted pair. + The one riding slightly in advance looked like a Puritan of the meaner + sort, in his battered steeple-hat and cloak of rusty black. The other was + closely wrapped in a red mantle, uptilted behind by a sword of prodigious + length, and for all that his broad, grey hat was unadorned by any feather, + it was set at a rakish, ruffling, damn-me angle that pronounced him no + likely comrade for the piously clad youth beside him. + </p> + <p> + But beneath that brave red cloak—alack!—as was presently seen + when they dismounted, that gentleman was in a sorry plight. He wore a + leather jerkin, so cut and soiled that any groom might have disdained it; + a pair of green breeches, frayed to their utmost; and coarse boots of + untanned leather, adorned by rusty spurs. + </p> + <p> + On the terrace Gregory paused a moment to call his groom to attend the + new-comers, then he passed down the steps to greet Kenneth with boisterous + effusion. Behind him, slow and stately as a woman of twice her years, came + Cynthia. Calm was her greeting of her lover, contained in courteous + expressions of pleasure at beholding him safe, and suffering him to kiss + her hand. + </p> + <p> + In the background, his sable locks uncovered out of deference to the lady, + stood Sir Crispin, his face pale and haggard, his lips parted, and his + grey eyes burning as they fell again, after the lapse of years, upon the + stones of this his home—the castle to which he was now come, hat in + hand, to beg for shelter. + </p> + <p> + Gregory was speaking, his hands resting upon Kenneth's shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “We have been much exercised concerning you, lad,” he was saying. “We + almost feared the worst, and yesterday Joseph left us to seek news of you + at Cromwell's hands. Where have you tarried?” + </p> + <p> + “Anon, sir; you shall learn anon. The story is a long one.” + </p> + <p> + “True; you will be tired, and perchance you would first rest a while. + Cynthia will see to it. But what scarecrow have you there? What + tatterdemalion is this?” he cried, pointing to Galliard. He had imagined + him a servant, but the dull flush that overspread Sir Crispin's face told + him of his error. + </p> + <p> + “I would have you know, sir,” Crispin began, with some heat, when Kenneth + interrupted him. + </p> + <p> + “Tis to this gentleman, sir, that I owe my presence here. He was my + fellow-prisoner, and but for his quick wit and stout arm I should be stiff + by now. Anon, sir, you shall hear the story of it, and I dare swear it + will divert you. This gentleman is Sir Crispin Galliard, lately a captain + of horse with whom I served in Middleton's Brigade.” + </p> + <p> + Crispin bowed low, conscious of the keen scrutiny in which Gregory's eyes + were bent upon him. In his heart there arose a fear that, haply after all, + the years that were sped had not wrought sufficient change in him. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Crispin Galliard,” Ashburn was saying, after the manner of one who is + searching his memory. “Galliard, Galliard—not he whom they called + 'Rakehelly Galliard,' and who gave us such trouble in the late King's + time?” + </p> + <p> + Crispin breathed once more. Ashburn's scrutiny was explained. + </p> + <p> + “The same, sir,” he answered, with a smile and a fresh bow. “Your servant, + sir; and yours, madam.” + </p> + <p> + Cynthia looked with interest at the lank, soldierly figure. She, too, had + heard—as who had not?—wild stories of this man's achievements. + But of no feat of his had she been told that could rival that of his + escape from Worcester; and when, that same evening, Kenneth related it, as + they supped, her low-lidded eyes grew very wide, and as they fell on + Crispin, admiration had taken now the place of interest. + </p> + <p> + Romance swayed as great a portion of her heart as it does of most women's. + She loved the poets and their songs of great deeds; and here was one who, + in the light of that which they related of him, was like an incarnation of + some hero out of a romancer's ballad. + </p> + <p> + Kenneth she never yet had held in over high esteem; but of a sudden, in + the presence of this harsh-featured dog of war, this grim, fierce-eyed + ruffler, he seemed to fade, despite his comeliness of face and form, into + a poor and puny insignificance. And when, presently, he unwisely related + how, when in the boat he had fainted, the maiden laughed outright for very + scorn. + </p> + <p> + At this plain expression of contempt, her father shot her a quick, uneasy + glance. Kenneth stopped short, bringing his narrative abruptly to a close. + Reproachfully he looked at her, turning first red, then white, as anger + chased annoyance through his soul. Galliard looked on with quiet relish; + her laugh had contained that which for days he had carried in his heart. + He drained his bumper slowly, and made no attempt to relieve the awkward + silence that sat upon the company. + </p> + <p> + Truth to tell, there was emotion enough in the soul of him who was wont to + be the life of every board he sat at to hold him silent and even moody. + </p> + <p> + Here, after eighteen years, was he again in his ancestral home of + Marleigh. But how was he returned? As one who came under a feigned name, + to seek from usurping hands a shelter 'neath his own roof; a beggar of + that from others which it should have been his to grant or to deny those + others. As an avenger he came. For justice he came, and armed with + retribution; the flame of a hate unspeakable burning in his heart, and + demanding the lives—no less—of those that had destroyed him + and his. Yet was he forced to sit a mendicant almost at that board whose + head was his by every right; forced to sit and curb his mood, giving no + outward sign of the volcano that boiled and raged within his soul as his + eye fell upon the florid, smiling face and portly, well-fed frame of + Gregory Ashburn. For the time was not yet. He must wait; wait until + Joseph's return, so that he might spend his vengeance upon both together. + </p> + <p> + Patient had he been for eighteen years, confident that ere he died, a just + and merciful God would give him this for which he lived and waited. Yet + now that the season was at hand; now upon the very eve of that for which + he had so long been patient, a frenzy of impatience fretted him. + </p> + <p> + He drank deep that night, and through deep drinking his manner thawed—for + in his cups it was not his to be churlish to friend or foe. Anon Cynthia + withdrew; next Kenneth, who went in quest of her. Still Crispin sat on, + and drank his host's health above his breath, and his perdition under it, + till in the end Gregory, who never yet had found his master at the bottle, + grew numb and drowsy, and sat blinking at the tapers. + </p> + <p> + Until midnight they remained at table, talking of this and that, and each + understanding little of what the other said. As the last hour of night + boomed out through the great hall, Gregory spoke of bed. + </p> + <p> + “Where do I lie to-night?” asked Crispin. + </p> + <p> + “In the northern wing,” answered Gregory with a hiccough. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, sir, I protest,” cried Galliard, struggling to his feet, and swaying + somewhat as he stood. “I'll sleep in the King's chamber, none other.” + </p> + <p> + “The King's chamber?” echoed Gregory, and his face showed the confused + struggles of his brain. “What know you of the King's chamber?” + </p> + <p> + “That it faces the east and the sea, and that it is the chamber I love + best.” + </p> + <p> + “What can you know of it since, I take it, you have never seen it!” + </p> + <p> + “Have I not?” he began, in a voice that was awful in its threatening calm. + Then, recollecting himself, and shaking some of the drunkenness from him: + “In the old days, when the Marleighs were masters here,” he mumbled, “I + was often within these walls. Roland Marleigh was my friend. The King's + chamber was ever accorded me, and there, for old time's sake, I'll lay + these old bones of mine to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “You were Roland Marleigh's friend?” gasped Gregory. He was very white + now, and there was a sheen of moisture on his face. The sound of that name + had well-nigh sobered him. It was almost as if the ghost of Roland + Marleigh stood before him. His knees were loosened, and he sank back into + the chair from which he had but risen. + </p> + <p> + “Aye, I was his friend!” assented Crispin. “Poor Roland! He married your + sister, did he not, and it was thus that, having no issue and the family + being extinct, Castle Marleigh passed to you?” + </p> + <p> + “He married our cousin,” Gregory amended. “They were an ill-fated family.” + </p> + <p> + “Ill-fated, indeed, an all accounts be true,” returned Crispin in a + maudlin voice. “Poor Roland! Well, for old time's sake, I'll sleep in the + King's chamber, Master Ashburn.” + </p> + <p> + “You shall sleep where you list, sir,” answered Gregory, and they rose. + </p> + <p> + “Do you look to honour us long at Castle Marleigh, Sir Crispin?” was + Gregory's last question before separating from his guest. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, sir, 'tis likely I shall go hence to-morrow,” answered Crispin, + unmindful of what he said. + </p> + <p> + “I trust not,” said Gregory, in accents of relief that belied him. “A + friend of Roland Marleigh's must ever be welcome in the house that was + Roland Marleigh's.” + </p> + <p> + “The house that was Roland Marleigh's,” Crispin muttered. “Heigho! Life is + precarious as the fall of a die at best an ephemeral business. To-night + you say the house that was Roland Marleigh's; presently men will be saying + the house that the Ashburns lived—aye, and died—in. Give you + good night, Master Ashburn.” + </p> + <p> + He staggered off, and stumbled up the broad staircase at the head of which + a servant now awaited, taper in hand, to conduct him to the chamber he + demanded. + </p> + <p> + Gregory followed him with a dull, frightened eye. Galliard's halting, + thickly uttered words had sounded like a prophecy in his ears. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. THE METAMORPHOSIS OF KENNETH + </h2> + <p> + When the morrow came, however, Sir Crispin showed no signs of carrying out + his proposal of the night before, and departing from Castle Marleigh. Nor, + indeed, did he so much as touch upon the subject, bearing himself rather + as one whose sojourn there was to be indefinite. + </p> + <p> + Gregory offered no comment upon this; through what he had done for Kenneth + they were under a debt to Galliard, and whilst he was a fugitive from the + Parliament's justice it would ill become Gregory to hasten his departure. + Moreover, Gregory recalled little or nothing of the words that had passed + between them in their cups, save a vague memory that Crispin had said that + he had once known Roland Marleigh. + </p> + <p> + Kenneth was content that Galliard should lie idle, and not call upon him + to go forth again to lend him the aid he had pledged himself to render + when Crispin should demand it. He marvelled, as the days wore on, that + Galliard should appear to have forgotten that task of his, and that he + should make no shift to set about it. For the rest, however, it troubled + him but little; enough preoccupation did he find in Cynthia's daily + increasing coldness. Upon all the fine speeches that he made her she + turned an idle ear, or if she replied at all it was but petulantly to + interrupt them, to call him a man of great words and small deeds. All that + he did she found ill done, and told him of it. His sober, godly garments + of sombre hue afforded her the first weapon of scorn wherewith to wound + him. A crow, she dubbed him; a canting, psalm-chanting hypocrite; a + Scripture-monger, and every other contumelious epithet of like import that + she should call to mind. He heard her in amazement. + </p> + <p> + “Is it for you, Cynthia,” he cried out in his surprise, “the child of a + God-fearing house, to mock the outward symbols of my faith?” + </p> + <p> + “A faith,” she laughed, “that is all outward symbols and naught besides; + all texts and mournings and nose-twangings.” + </p> + <p> + “Cynthia!” he exclaimed, in horror. + </p> + <p> + “Go your ways, sir,” she answered, half in jest, half in earnest. “What + need hath a true faith of outward symbols? It is a matter that lies + between your God and yourself, and it is your heart He will look at, not + your coat. Why, then, without becoming more acceptable in His eyes, shall + you but render yourself unsightly in the eyes of man?” + </p> + <p> + Kenneth's cheeks were flushed with anger. From the terrace where they + walked he let his glance roam towards the avenue that split the park in + twain. Up this at that moment, with the least suspicion of a swagger in + his gait, Sir Crispin Galliard was approaching leisurely; he wore a + claret-coloured doublet edged with silver lace, and a grey hat decked with + a drooping red feather—which garments, together with the rest of his + apparel, he had drawn from the wardrobe of Gregory Ashburn. His advent + afforded Kenneth the retort he needed. Pointing him out to Cynthia: + </p> + <p> + “Would you rather,” he cried hotly, “have me such a man as that?” + </p> + <p> + “And, pray, why not?” she taunted him. “Leastways, you would then be a + man.” + </p> + <p> + “If, madam, a debauchee, a drunkard, a profligate, a brawler be your + conception of a man, I would in faith you did not account me one.” + </p> + <p> + “And what, sir, would you sooner elect to be accounted?” + </p> + <p> + “A gentleman, madam,” he answered pompously. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” said she quietly, “that you are in as little danger of becoming + the one as the other. A gentleman does not slander a man behind his back, + particularly when he owes that man his life. Kenneth, I am ashamed of + you.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not slander,” he insisted hotly. “You yourself know of the drunken + excess wherewith three nights ago he celebrated his coming to Castle + Marleigh. Nor do I forget what I owe him, and payment is to be made in a + manner you little know of. If I said of him what I did, it was but in + answer to your taunts. Think you I could endure comparison with such a man + as that? Know you what name the Royalists give him? They call him the + Tavern Knight.” + </p> + <p> + She looked him over with an eye of quiet scorn. + </p> + <p> + “And how, sir, do they call you? The pulpit knight? Or is it the knight of + the white feather? Mr. Stewart, you weary me. I would have a man who with + a man's failings hath also a man's redeeming virtues of honesty, chivalry, + and courage, and a record of brave deeds, rather than one who has nothing + of the man save the coat—that outward symbol you lay such store by.” + </p> + <p> + His handsome, weak face was red with fury. + </p> + <p> + “Since that is so, madam,” he choked, “I leave you to your swaggering, + ruffling Cavalier.” + </p> + <p> + And, without so much as a bow, he swung round on his heel and left her. It + was her turn to grow angry now, and well it was for him that he had not + tarried. She dwelt with scorn upon his parting taunt, bethinking herself + that in truth she had exaggerated her opinions of Galliard's merits. Her + feelings towards that ungodly gentleman were rather of pity than aught + else. A brave, ready-witted man she knew him for, as much from the story + of his escape from Worcester as for the air that clung to him despite his + swagger, and she deplored that one possessing these ennobling virtues + should have fallen notwithstanding upon such evil ways as those which + Crispin trod. Some day, perchance, when she should come to be better + acquainted with him, she would seek to induce him to mend his course. + </p> + <p> + Such root did this thought take in her mind that soon thereafter—and + without having waited for that riper acquaintance which at first she had + held necessary—she sought to lead their talk into the channels of + this delicate subject. But he as sedulously confined it to trivial matter + whenever she approached him in this mood, fencing himself about with a + wall of cold reserve that was not lightly to be overthrown. In this his + conscience was at work. Cynthia was the flaw in the satisfaction he might + have drawn from the contemplation of the vengeance he was there to wreak. + He beheld her so pure, so sweet and fresh, that he marvelled how she came + to be the daughter of Gregory Ashburn. His heart smote him at the thought + of how she—the innocent—must suffer with the guilty, and at + the contemplation of the sorrow which he must visit upon her. Out of this + sprang a constraint when in her company, for other than stiff and formal + he dared not be lest he should deem himself no better than the Iscariot. + </p> + <p> + During the first days he had spent at Marleigh, he had been impatient for + Joseph Ashburn's return. Now he found himself hoping each morning that + Joseph might not come that day. + </p> + <p> + A courier reached Gregory from Windsor with a letter wherein his brother + told him that the Lord General, not being at the castle, he was gone on to + London in quest of him. And Gregory, lacking the means to inform him that + the missing Kenneth was already returned, was forced to possess his soul + in patience until his brother, having learnt what was to be learnt of + Cromwell, should journey home. + </p> + <p> + And so the days sped on, and a week wore itself out in peace at Castle + Marleigh, none dreaming of the volcano on which they stood. Each night + Crispin and Gregory sat together at the board after Kenneth and Cynthia + had withdrawn, and both drank deep—the one for the vice of it, the + other (as he had always done) to seek forgetfulness. + </p> + <p> + He needed it now more than ever, for he feared that the consideration of + Cynthia might yet unman him. Had she scorned and avoided him and having + such evidences of his ways of life he marvelled that she did not—he + might have allowed his considerations of her to weigh less heavily. As it + was, she sought him out, nor seemed rebuffed at his efforts to evade her, + and in every way she manifested a kindliness that drove him almost to the + point of despair, and well-nigh to hating her. + </p> + <p> + Kenneth, knowing naught of the womanly purpose that actuated her, and + seeing but the outward signs, which, with ready jealousy, he misconstrued + and magnified, grew sullen and churlish to her, to Galliard, and even to + Gregory. + </p> + <p> + For hours he would mope alone, nursing his jealous mood, as though in this + clownish fashion matters were to be mended. Did Cynthia but speak to + Crispin, he scowled; did Crispin answer her, he grit his teeth at the + covert meaning wherewith his fancy invested Crispin's tones; whilst did + they chance to laugh together—a contingency that fortunately for his + sanity was rare—he writhed in fury. He was a man transformed, and at + times there was murder in his heart. Had he been a swordsman of more than + moderate skill and dared to pit himself against the Tavern Knight, blood + would have been shed in Marleigh Park betwixt them. + </p> + <p> + It seemed at last as if with his insensate jealousy all the evil humours + that had lain dormant in the boy were brought to the surface, to overwhelm + his erstwhile virtues—if qualities that have bigotry for a parent + may truly be accounted virtues. + </p> + <p> + He cast off, not abruptly, but piecemeal, those outward symbols—his + sombre clothes. First 'twas his hat he exchanged for a feather-trimmed + beaver of more sightly hue; then those stiff white bands that reeked of + sanctity and cant for a collar of fine point; next it was his coat that + took on a worldly edge of silver lace. And so, little by little, step by + step, was the metamorphosis effected, until by the end of the week he came + forth a very butterfly of fashion—a gallant, dazzling Cavalier. Out + of a stern, forbidding Covenanter he was transformed in a few days into a + most outrageous fop. He walked in an atmosphere of musk that he himself + exhaled; his fair hair—that a while ago had hung so straight and + limp—was now twisted into monstrous curls, a bunch of which were + gathered by his right ear in a ribbon of pale blue silk. + </p> + <p> + Galliard noted the change in amazement, yet, knowing to what follies youth + is driven when it woos, he accounted Cynthia responsible for it, and + laughed in his sardonic way, whereat the boy would blush and scowl in one. + Gregory, too, looked on and laughed, setting it down to the same cause. + Even Cynthia smiled, whereat the Tavern Knight was driven to ponder. + </p> + <p> + With a courtier's raiment Kenneth put on, too, a courtier's ways; he grew + mincing and affected in his speech, and he—whose utterance a while + ago had been marked by a scriptural flavour—now set it off with some + of Galliard's less unseemly oaths. + </p> + <p> + Since it was a ruffling gallant Cynthia required, he swore that a ruffling + gallant should she find him; nor had he wit enough to see that his + ribbons, his fopperies, and his capers served but to make him ridiculous + in her eyes. He did indeed perceive, however, that in spite of this + wondrous transformation, he made no progress in her favour. + </p> + <p> + “What signify these fripperies?” she asked him, one day, “any more than + did your coat of decent black? Are these also outward symbols?” + </p> + <p> + “You may take them for such, madam,” he answered sulkily. “You liked me + not as I was—” + </p> + <p> + “And I like you less as you are,” she broke in. + </p> + <p> + “Cynthia, you mock me,” he cried angrily. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Heaven forbid! I do but mark the change,” she answered airily. + “These scented clothes are but a masquerade, even as your coat of black + and your cant were a masquerade. Then you simulated godliness; now you + simulate Heaven knows what. But now, as then, it is no more than a + simulation, a pretence of something that you are not.” + </p> + <p> + He left her in a pet, and went in search of Gregory, into whose ear he + poured the story of his woes that had their source in Cynthia's + unkindness. From this resulted a stormy interview 'twixt Cynthia and her + father, in which Cynthia at last declared that she would not be wedded to + a fop. + </p> + <p> + Gregory shrugged his shoulders and laughed cynically, replying that it was + the way of young men to be fools, and that through folly lay the road to + wisdom. + </p> + <p> + “Be that as it may,” she answered him with spirit, “this folly transcends + all bounds. Master Stewart may return to his Scottish heather; at Castle + Marleigh he is wasting time.” + </p> + <p> + “Cynthia!” he cried. + </p> + <p> + “Father,” she pleaded, “why be angry? You would not have me marry against + the inclinations of my heart? You would not have me wedded to a man whom I + despise?” + </p> + <p> + “By what right do you despise him?” he demanded, his brow dark. + </p> + <p> + “By the right of the freedom of my thoughts—the only freedom that a + woman knows. For the rest it seems she is but a chattel; of no more + consideration to a man than his ox or his ass with which the Scriptures + rank her—a thing to be given or taken, bought or sold, as others + shall decree.” + </p> + <p> + “Child, child, what know you of these things?” he cried. “You are + overwrought, sweetheart.” And with the promise to wait until a calmer + frame of mind in her should be more propitious to what he wished to say + further on this score, he left her. + </p> + <p> + She went out of doors in quest of solitude among the naked trees of the + park; instead she found Sir Crispin, seated deep in thought upon a fallen + trunk. + </p> + <p> + Through the trees she espied him as she approached, whilst the rustle of + her gown announced to him her coming. He rose as she drew nigh, and, + doffing his hat, made shift to pass on. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Crispin,” she called, detaining him. He turned. + </p> + <p> + “Your servant, Mistress Cynthia.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you afraid of me, Sir Crispin?” + </p> + <p> + “Beauty, madam, is wont to inspire courage rather than fear,” he answered, + with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “That, sir, is an evasion, not an answer.” + </p> + <p> + “If read aright, Mistress Cynthia, it is also an answer.” + </p> + <p> + “That you do not fear me?” + </p> + <p> + “It is not a habit of mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, then, have you avoided me these three days past?” + </p> + <p> + Despite himself Crispin felt his breath quickening—quickening with a + pleasure that he sought not to account for—at the thought that she + should have marked his absence from her side. + </p> + <p> + “Because perhaps if I did not,” he answered slowly, “you might come to + avoid me. I am a proud man, Mistress Cynthia.” + </p> + <p> + “Satan, sir, was proud, but his pride led him to perdition.” + </p> + <p> + “So indeed may mine,” he answered readily, “since it leads me from you.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, sir,” she laughed, “you go from me willingly enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Not willingly, Cynthia. Oh, not willingly,” he began. Then of a sudden he + checked his tongue, and asked himself what he was saying. With a + half-laugh and a courtier manner, he continued, “Of two evils, madam, we + must choose the lesser one.” + </p> + <p> + “Madam,” she echoed, disregarding all else that he had said. “It is an + ugly word, and but a moment back you called me Cynthia.” + </p> + <p> + “Twas a liberty that methought my grey hairs warranted, and for which you + should have reproved me.” + </p> + <p> + “You have not grey hairs enough to warrant it, Sir Crispin,” she answered + archly. “But what if even so I account it no liberty?” + </p> + <p> + The heavy lids were lifted from her eyes, and as their glance, frank and + kindly, met his, he trembled. Then, with a polite smile, he bowed. + </p> + <p> + “I thank you for the honour.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment she looked at him in a puzzled way, then moved past him, and + as he stood, stiffly erect, watching her graceful figure, he thought that + she was about to leave him, and was glad of it. But ere she had taken half + a dozen steps: + </p> + <p> + “Sir Crispin,” said she, looking back at him over her shoulder, “I am + walking to the cliffs.” + </p> + <p> + Never was a man more plainly invited to become an escort; but he ignored + it. A sad smile crept into his harsh face. + </p> + <p> + “I shall tell Kenneth if I see him,” said he. + </p> + <p> + At that she frowned. + </p> + <p> + “But I do not want him,” she protested. “Sooner would I go alone.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, then, madam, I'll tell nobody.” + </p> + <p> + Was ever man so dull? she asked herself. + </p> + <p> + “There is a fine view from the cliffs,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “I have always thought so,” he agreed. + </p> + <p> + She inclined to call him a fool; yet she restrained herself. She had an + impulse to go her way without him; but, then, she desired his company, and + Cynthia was unused to having her desires frustrated. So finding him + impervious to suggestion: + </p> + <p> + “Will you not come with me?” she asked at last, point-blank. + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes, if you wish it,” he answered without alacrity. + </p> + <p> + “You may remain, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Her offended tone aroused him now to the understanding that he was + impolite. Contrite he stood beside her in a moment. + </p> + <p> + “With your permission, mistress, I will go with you. I am a dull fellow, + and to-day I know not what mood is on me. So sorry a one that I feared I + should be poor company. Still, if you'll endure me, I'll do my best to + prove entertaining.” + </p> + <p> + “By no means,” she answered coldly. “I seek not the company of dull + fellows.” And she was gone. + </p> + <p> + He stood where she had left him, and breathed a most ungallant prayer of + thanks. Next he laughed softly to himself, a laugh that was woeful with + bitterness. + </p> + <p> + “Fore George!” he muttered, “it is all that was wanting!” + </p> + <p> + He reseated himself upon the fallen tree, and there he set himself to + reflect, and to realize that he, war-worn and callous, come to Castle + Marleigh on such an errand as was his, should wax sick at the very thought + of it for the sake of a chit of a maid, with a mind to make a mock and a + toy of him. Into his mind there entered even the possibility of flight, + forgetful of the wrongs he had suffered, abandoning the vengeance he had + sworn. Then with an oath he stemmed his thoughts. + </p> + <p> + “God in heaven, am I a boy, beardless and green?” he asked himself. “Am I + turned seventeen again, that to look into a pair of eyes should make me + forget all things but their existence?” Then in a burst of passion: “Would + to Heaven,” he muttered, “they had left me stark on Worcester Field!” + </p> + <p> + He rose abruptly, and set out to walk aimlessly along, until suddenly a + turn in the path brought him face to face with Cynthia. She hailed him + with a laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Sir laggard, I knew that willy-nilly you would follow me,” she cried. And + he, taken aback, could not but smile in answer, and profess that she had + conjectured rightly. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. THE HEART OF CYNTHIA ASHBURN + </h2> + <p> + Side by side stepped that oddly assorted pair along—the maiden whose + soul was as pure and fresh as the breeze that blew upon them from the sea, + and the man whose life years ago had been marred by a sorrow, the quest of + whose forgetfulness had led him through the mire of untold sin; the girl + upon the threshold of womanhood, her life all before her and seeming to + her untainted mind a joyous, wholesome business; the man midway on his + ill-starred career, his every hope blighted save the one odious hope of + vengeance, which made him cling to a life he had proved worthless and + ugly, and that otherwise he had likely enough cast from him. And as they + walked: + </p> + <p> + “Sir Crispin,” she ventured timidly, “you are unhappy, are you not?” + </p> + <p> + Startled by her words and the tone of them, Galliard turned his head that + he might observe her. + </p> + <p> + “I, unhappy?” he laughed; and it was a laugh calculated to acknowledge the + fitness of her question, rather than to refute it as he intended. “Am I a + clown, Cynthia, to own myself unhappy at such a season and while you + honour me with your company?” + </p> + <p> + She made a wry face in protest that he fenced with her. + </p> + <p> + “You are happy, then?” she challenged him. + </p> + <p> + “What is happiness?” quoth he, much as Pilate may have questioned what was + truth. Then before she could reply he hastened to add: “I have not been + quite so happy these many years.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not of the present moment that I speak,” she answered reprovingly, + for she scented no more than a compliment in his words, “but of your + life.” + </p> + <p> + Now either was he imbued with a sense of modesty touching the deeds of + that life of his, or else did he wisely realize that no theme could there + be less suited to discourse upon with an innocent maid. + </p> + <p> + “Mistress Cynthia,” said he as though he had not heard her question, “I + would say a word to you concerning Kenneth.” + </p> + <p> + At that she turned upon him with a pout. + </p> + <p> + “But it is concerning yourself that I would have you talk. It is not nice + to disobey a lady. Besides, I have little interest in Master Stewart.” + </p> + <p> + “To have little interest in a future husband augurs ill for the time when + he shall come to be your husband.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought that you, at least, understood me. Kenneth will never be + husband of mine, Sir Crispin.” + </p> + <p> + “Cynthia!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, lackaday! Am I to wed a doll?” she demanded. “Is he—is he a man + a maid may love, Sir Crispin?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, had you but seen the half of life that I have seen,” said he + unthinkingly, “it might amaze you what manner of man a maid may love—or + at least may marry. Come, Cynthia, what fault do you find with him?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, every fault.” + </p> + <p> + He laughed in unbelief. + </p> + <p> + “And whom are we to blame for all these faults that have turned you so + against him?” + </p> + <p> + “Whom?” + </p> + <p> + “Yourself, Cynthia. You use him ill, child. If his behaviour has been + extravagant, you are to blame. You are severe with him, and he, in his + rash endeavours to present himself in a guise that shall render him + commendable in your eyes, has overstepped discretion.” + </p> + <p> + “Has my father bidden you to tell me this?” + </p> + <p> + “Since when have I enjoyed your father's confidence to that degree? No, + no, Cynthia. I plead the boy's cause to you because—I know not + because of what.” + </p> + <p> + “It is ill to plead without knowing why. Let us forget the valiant + Kenneth. They tell me, Sir Crispin”—and she turned her glorious eyes + upon him in a manner that must have witched a statue into answering her—“that + in the Royal army you were known as the Tavern Knight.” + </p> + <p> + “They tell you truly. What of that?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what of it? Do you blush at the very thought?” + </p> + <p> + “I blush?” He blinked, and his eyes were full of humour as they met her + grave—almost sorrowing glance. Then a full-hearted peal of laughter + broke from him, and scared a flight of gulls from the rocks of Sheringham + Hithe below. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Cynthia! You'll kill me!” he gasped. “Picture to yourself this + Crispin Galliard blushing and giggling like a schoolgirl beset by her + first lover. Picture it, I say! As well and as easily might you picture + old Lucifer warbling a litany for the edification of a Nonconformist + parson.” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes were severe in their reproach. + </p> + <p> + “It is always so with you. You laugh and jest and make a mock of + everything. Such I doubt not has been your way from the commencement, and + 'tis thus that you are come to this condition.” + </p> + <p> + Again he laughed, but this time it was in bitterness. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, sweet mistress, you are wrong—you are very wrong; it was not + always thus. Time was—” He paused. “Bah! 'Tis the coward cries “time + was”! Leave me the past, Cynthia. It is dead, and of the dead we should + speak no ill,” he jested. + </p> + <p> + “What is there in your past?” she insisted, despite his words. “What is + there in it so to have warped a character that I am assured was once—is, + indeed, still—of lofty and noble purpose? What is it has brought you + to the level you occupy—you who were born to lead; you who—” + </p> + <p> + “Have done, child. Have done,” he begged. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, tell me. Let us sit here.” And taking hold of his sleeve, she sat + herself upon a mound, and made room for him beside her on the grass. With + a half-laugh and a sigh he obeyed her, and there, on the cliff, in the + glow of the September sun, he took his seat at her side. + </p> + <p> + A silence prevailed about them, emphasized rather than broken by the + droning chant of a fisherman mending his nets on the beach below, the + intermittent plash of the waves on the shingle, and the scream of the + gulls that circled overhead. Before the eyes of his flesh was stretched a + wide desert of sky and water, and before the eyes of his mind the hopeless + desert of his thirty-eight years. + </p> + <p> + He was almost tempted to speak. The note of sympathy in her voice allured + him, and sympathy was to him as drink to one who perishes of thirst. A + passionate, indefinable longing impelled him to pour out the story that in + Worcester he had related unto Kenneth, and thus to set himself better in + her eyes; to have her realize indeed that if he was come so low it was + more the fault of others than his own. The temptation drew him at a + headlong pace, to be checked at last by the memory that those others who + had brought him to so sorry a condition were her own people. The humour + passed. He laughed softly, and shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “There is nothing that I can tell you, child. Let us rather talk of + Kenneth.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not wish to talk of Kenneth.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, but you must. Willy-nilly must you. Think you it is only a war-worn, + hard-drinking, swashbuckling ruffler that can sin? Does it not also occur + to you that even a frail and tender little maid may do wrong as well?” + </p> + <p> + “What wrong have I done?” she cried in consternation. + </p> + <p> + “A grievous wrong to this poor lad. Can you not realize how the only + desire that governs him is the laudable one of appearing favourably in + your eyes?” + </p> + <p> + “That desire gives rise, then, to curious manifestations.” + </p> + <p> + “He is mistaken in the means he adopts, that is all. In his heart his one + aim is to win your esteem, and, after all, it is the sentiment that + matters, not its manifestation. Why, then, are you unkind to him?” + </p> + <p> + “But I am not unkind. Or is it unkindness to let him see that I mislike + his capers? Would it not be vastly more unkind to ignore them and + encourage him to pursue their indulgence? I have no patience with him.” + </p> + <p> + “As for those capers, I am endeavouring to show you that you yourself have + driven him to them.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir Crispin,” she cried out, “you grow tiresome.” + </p> + <p> + “Aye,” said he, “I grow tiresome. I grow tiresome because I preach of + duty. Marry, it is in truth a tiresome topic.” + </p> + <p> + “How duty? Of what do you talk?” And a flush of incipient anger spread now + on her fair cheek. + </p> + <p> + “I will be clearer,” said he imperturbably. “This lad is your betrothed. + He is at heart a good lad, an honourable and honest lad—at times + haply over-honest and over-honourable; but let that be. To please a whim, + a caprice, you set yourself to flout him, as is the way of your sex when + you behold a man your utter slave. From this—being all unversed in + the obliquity of woman—he conceives, poor boy, that he no longer + finds favour in your eyes, and to win back this, the only thing that in + the world he values, he behaves foolishly. You flout him anew, and because + of it. He is as jealous with you as a hen with her brood.” + </p> + <p> + “Jealous?” echoed Cynthia. + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes, jealous; and so far does he go as to be jealous even of me,” he + cried, with infinitely derisive relish. “Think of it—he is jealous + of me! Jealous of him they call the Tavern Knight!” + </p> + <p> + She did think of it as he bade her. And by thinking she stumbled upon a + discovery that left her breathless. + </p> + <p> + Strange how we may bear a sentiment in our hearts without so much as + suspecting its existence, until suddenly a chance word shall so urge it + into life that it reveals itself with unmistakable distinctness. With her + the revelation began in a vague wonder at the scorn with which Crispin + invested the notion that Kenneth should have cause for jealousy on his + score. Was it, she asked herself, so monstrously unnatural? Then in a + flash the answer came—and it was, that far from being a matter for + derision, such an attitude in Kenneth lacked not for foundation. + </p> + <p> + In that moment she knew that it was because of Crispin; because of this + man who spoke with such very scorn of self, that Kenneth had become in her + eyes so mean and unworthy a creature. Loved him she haply never had, but + leastways she had tolerated—been even flattered by—his wooing. + By contrasting him now with Crispin she had grown to despise him. His + weakness, his pusillanimity, his meannesses of soul, stood out in sharp + relief by contrast with the masterful strength and the high spirit of Sir + Crispin. + </p> + <p> + So easily may our ideals change that the very graces of face and form that + a while ago had pleased her in Kenneth, seemed now effeminate attributes, + well-attuned to a vacillating, purposeless mind. Far greater beauty did + her eyes behold in this grimfaced soldier of fortune; the man as firm of + purpose as he was upright of carriage; gloomy, proud, and reckless; still + young, yet past the callow age of adolescence. Since the day of his coming + to Castle Marleigh she had brought herself to look upon him as a hero + stepped from the romancers' tales that in secret she had read. The mystery + that seemed to envelop him; those hints at a past that was not good—but + the measure of whose evil in her pure innocence she could not guess; his + very melancholy, his misfortunes, and the deeds she had heard assigned to + him, all had served to fire her fancy and more besides, although, until + that moment, she knew it not. + </p> + <p> + Subconsciously all this had long dwelt in her mind. And now of a sudden + that self-deriding speech of Crispin's had made her aware of its presence + and its meaning. + </p> + <p> + She loved him. That men said his life had not been nice, that he was a + soldier of fortune, little better than an adventurer, a man of no worldly + weight, were matters of no moment then to her. She loved him. She knew it + now because he had mockingly bidden her to think whether Kenneth had cause + to be jealous of him, and because upon thinking of it, she found that did + Kenneth know what was in her heart, he must have more than cause. + </p> + <p> + She loved him with that rare love that will urge a woman to the last + sacrifice a man may ask; a love that gives and gives, and seeks nothing in + return; that impels a woman to follow the man at his bidding, be his way + through the world cast in places never so rugged; cleaving to him where + all besides shall have abandoned him; and, however dire his lot, asking of + God no greater blessing than that of sharing it. + </p> + <p> + And to such a love as this Crispin was blind—blind to the very + possibility of its existence; so blind that he laughed to scorn the idea + of a puny milksop being jealous of him. And so, while she sat, her soul + all mastered by her discovery, her face white and still for very awe of + it, he to whom this wealth was given, pursued the odious task of wooing + her for another. + </p> + <p> + “You have observed—you must have observed this insensate jealousy,” + he was saying, “and how do you allay it? You do not. On the contrary, you + excite it at every turn. You are exciting it now by having—and I + dare swear for no other purpose—lured me to walk with you, to sit + here with you and preach your duty to you. And when, through jealousy, he + shall have flown to fresh absurdities, shall you regret your conduct and + the fruits it has borne? Shall you pity the lad, and by kindness induce + him to be wiser? No. You will mock and taunt him into yet worse displays. + And through these displays, which are—though you may not have + bethought you of it—of your own contriving, you will conclude that + he is no fit mate for you, and there will be heart-burnings, and years + hence perhaps another Tavern Knight, whose name will not be Crispin + Galliard.” + </p> + <p> + She had listened with bent head; indeed, so deeply rapt by her discovery, + that she had but heard the half of what he said. Now, of a sudden, she + looked up, and meeting his glance: + </p> + <p> + “Is—is it a woman's fault that you are as you are?” + </p> + <p> + “No, it is not. But how does that concern the case of Kenneth?” + </p> + <p> + “It does not. I was but curious. I was not thinking of Kenneth.” + </p> + <p> + He stared at her, dumfounded. Had he been talking of Kenneth to her with + such eloquence and such fervour, that she should calmly tell him as he + paused that it was not of Kenneth she had been thinking? + </p> + <p> + “You will think of him, Cynthia?” he begged. “You will bethink you too of + what I have said, and by being kinder and more indulgent with this youth + you shall make him grow into a man you may take pride in. Deal fairly with + him, child, and if anon you find you cannot truly love him, then tell him + so. But tell him kindly and frankly, instead of using him as you are + doing.” + </p> + <p> + She was silent a moment, and in their poignancy her feelings went very + near to anger. Presently: + </p> + <p> + “I would, Sir Crispin, you could hear him talk of you,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “He talks ill, not a doubt of it, and like enough he has good cause.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet you saved his life.” + </p> + <p> + The words awoke Crispin, the philosopher of love, to realities. He + recalled the circumstances of his saving Kenneth, and the price the boy + was to pay for that service; and it suddenly came to him that it was + wasted breath to plead Kenneth's cause with Cynthia, when by his own + future actions he was, himself, more than likely to destroy the boy's + every hope of wedding her. The irony of his attitude smote him hard, and + he rose abruptly. The sun hung now a round, red globe upon the very brink + of the sea. + </p> + <p> + “Hereafter he may have little cause to thank me,” muttered he. “Come, + Mistress Cynthia, it grows late.” + </p> + <p> + She rose in mechanical obedience, and together they retraced their steps + in silence, save for the stray word exchanged at intervals touching + matters of no moment. + </p> + <p> + But he had not advocated Kenneth's cause in vain, for all that he little + recked what his real argument had been, what influences he had evoked to + urge her to make her peace with the lad. A melancholy listlessness of mind + possessed her now. Crispin did not see, never would see, what was in her + heart, and it might not be hers to show him. The life that might have + signified was not to be lived, and since that was so it seemed to matter + little what befell. + </p> + <p> + It was thus that when on the morrow her father returned to the subject, + she showed herself tractable and docile out of her indifference, and to + Gregory she appeared not averse to listen to what he had to advance in the + boy's favour. Anon Kenneth's own humble pleading, allied to his contrite + and sorrowful appearance, were received by her with that same + indifference, as also with indifference did she allow him later to kiss + her hand and assume the flattering belief that he was rehabilitated in her + favour. + </p> + <p> + But pale grew Mistress Cynthia's cheeks, and sad her soul. Wistful she + waxed, sighing at every turn, until it seemed to her—as haply it + hath seemed to many a maid—that all her life must she waste in vain + sighs over a man who gave no single thought to her. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. JOSEPH'S RETURN + </h2> + <p> + On his side Kenneth strove hard during the days that followed to right + himself in her eyes. But so headlong was he in the attempt, and so + misguided, that presently he overshot his mark by dropping an unflattering + word concerning Crispin, whereby he attributed to the Tavern Knight's + influence and example the degenerate change that had of late been wrought + in him. + </p> + <p> + Cynthia's eyes grew hard as he spoke, and had he been wise he had better + served his cause by talking in another vein. But love and jealousy had so + addled what poor brains the Lord had bestowed upon him, that he floundered + on, unmindful of any warning that took not the blunt shape of words. At + length, however, she stemmed the flow of invective that his lips poured + forth. + </p> + <p> + “Have I not told you already, Kenneth, that it better becomes a gentleman + not to slander the man to whom he owes his life? In fact, that a gentleman + would scorn such an action?” + </p> + <p> + As he had protested before, so did he protest now, that what he had + uttered was no slander. And in his rage and mortification at the way she + used him, and for which he now bitterly upbraided her, he was very near + the point of tears, like the blubbering schoolboy that at heart he was. + </p> + <p> + “And as for the debt, madam,” he cried, striking the oaken table of the + hall with his clenched hand, “it is a debt that shall be paid, a debt + which this gentleman whom you defend would not permit me to contract until + I had promised payment—aye, 'fore George!—and with interest, + for in the payment I may risk my very life.” + </p> + <p> + “I see no interest in that, since you risk nothing more than what you owe + him,” she answered, with a disdain that brought the impending tears to his + eyes. But if he lacked the manliness to restrain them, he possessed at + least the shame to turn his back and hide them from her. “But tell me, + sir,” she added, her curiosity awakened, “if I am to judge, what was the + nature of this bargain?” + </p> + <p> + He was silent for a moment, and took a turn in the hall—mastering + himself to speak—his hands clasped behind his back, and his eyes + bent towards the polished floor which the evening sunlight, filtered + through the gules of the leaded windows, splashed here and there with a + crimson stain. She sat in the great leathern chair at the head of the + board, and, watching him, waited. + </p> + <p> + He was debating whether he was bound to secrecy in the matter, and in the + end he resolved that he was not. Thereupon, pausing before her, he + succinctly told the story Crispin had related to him that night in + Worcester—the story of a great wrong, that none but a craven could + have left unavenged. He added nothing to it, subtracted nothing from it, + but told the tale as it had been told to him on that dreadful night, the + memory of which had still power to draw a shudder from him. + </p> + <p> + Cynthia sat with parted lips and eager eyes, drinking in that touching + narrative of suffering that was rather as some romancer's fabrication than + a true account of what a living man had undergone. Now with sorrow and + pity in her heart and countenance, now with anger and loathing, she + listened until he had done, and even when he ceased speaking, and flung + himself into the nearest chair, she sat on in silence for a spell. + </p> + <p> + Then of a sudden she turned a pair of flashing eyes upon the boy, and in + tones charged with a scorn ineffable: + </p> + <p> + “You dare,” she cried, “to speak of that man as you do, knowing all this? + Knowing what he has suffered, you dare to rail in his absence against + those sins to which his misfortunes have driven him? How, think you, would + it have fared with you, you fool, had you stood in the shoes of this + unfortunate? Had you fallen on your craven knees, and thanked the Lord for + allowing you to keep your miserable life? Had you succumbed to the blows + of fate with a whine of texts upon your lips? Who are you?” she went on, + rising, breathless in her wrath, which caused him to recoil in sheer + affright before her. “Who are you, and what are you, that knowing what you + know of this man's life, you dare to sit in judgment upon his actions and + condemn them? Answer me, you fool!” + </p> + <p> + But never a word had he wherewith to meet that hail of angry, contemptuous + questions. The answer that had been so ready to his lips that night at + Worcester, when, in a milder form the Tavern Knight had set him the same + question, he dared not proffer now. The retort that Sir Crispin had not + cause enough in the evil of others, which had wrecked his life, to risk + the eternal damnation of his soul, he dared no longer utter. Glibly enough + had he said to that stern man that which he dared not say now to this + sterner beauty. Perhaps it was fear of her that made him dumb, perhaps + that at last he knew himself for what he was by contrast with the man + whose vices he had so heartily despised a while ago. + </p> + <p> + Shrinking back before her anger, he racked his shallow mind in vain for a + fitting answer. But ere he had found one, a heavy step sounded in the + gallery that overlooked the hall, and a moment later Gregory Ashburn + descended. His face was ghastly white, and a heavy frown furrowed the + space betwixt his brows. + </p> + <p> + In the fleeting glance she bestowed upon her father, she remarked not the + disorder of his countenance; whilst as for Kenneth, he had enough to hold + his attention for the time. + </p> + <p> + Gregory's advent set an awkward constraint upon them, nor had he any word + to say as he came heavily up the hall. + </p> + <p> + At the lower end of the long table he paused, and resting his hand upon + the board, he seemed on the point of speaking when of a sudden a sound + reached him that caused him to draw a sharp breath; it was the rumble of + wheels and the crack of a whip. + </p> + <p> + “It is Joseph!” he cried, in a voice the relief of which was so marked + that Cynthia noticed it. And with that exclamation he flung past them, and + out through the doorway to meet his brother so opportunely returned. + </p> + <p> + He reached the terrace steps as the coach pulled up, and the lean figure + of Joseph Ashburn emerged from it. + </p> + <p> + “So, Gregory,” he grumbled for greeting, “it was on a fool's errand you + sent me, after all. That knave, your messenger, found me in London at last + when I had outworn my welcome at Whitehall. But, 'swounds, man,” he cried, + remarking the pallor, of his brother's face, “what ails thee?” + </p> + <p> + “I have news for you, Joseph,” answered Gregory, in a voice that shook. + </p> + <p> + “It is not Cynthia?” he inquired. “Nay, for there she stands-and her + pretty lover by her side. 'Slife, what a coxcomb the lad's grown.” + </p> + <p> + And with that he hastened forward to kiss his niece, and congratulate + Kenneth upon being restored to her. + </p> + <p> + “I heard of it, lad, in London,” quoth he, a leer upon his sallow face—“the + story of how a fire-eater named Galliard befriended you, trussed a parson + and a trooper, and dragged you out of jail a short hour before + hanging-time.” + </p> + <p> + Kenneth flushed. He felt the sneer in Joseph's, words like a stab. The + man's tone implied that another had done for him that which he would not + have dared do for himself, and Kenneth felt that this was so said in + Cynthia's presence with malicious, purpose. + </p> + <p> + He was right. Partly it was Joseph's way to be spiteful and venomous + whenever chance afforded him the opportunity. Partly he had been + particularly soured at present by his recent discomforts, suffered in a + cause wherewith he had no, sympathy—that of the union Gregory + desired 'twixt Cynthia and Kenneth. + </p> + <p> + There was an evil smile on his thin lips, and his crooked eyes rested + tormentingly upon the young man. A fresh taunt trembled on his viperish + tongue, when Gregory plucked at the skirts of his coat, and drew him + aside. They entered the chamber where they had held their last interview + before Joseph had set out for news of Kenneth. With an air of mystery + Gregory closed the door, then turned to face his brother. He stayed him in + the act of unbuckling his sword-belt. + </p> + <p> + “Wait, Joseph!” he cried dramatically. “This is no time to disarm. Keep + your sword on your thigh, man; you will need it as you never yet have + needed it.” He paused, took a deep breath, and hurled the news at his + brother. “Roland Marleigh is here.” And he sat down like a man exhausted. + </p> + <p> + Joseph did not start; he did not cry out; he did not so much as change + countenance. A slight quiver of the eyelids was the only outward sign he + gave of the shock that his brother's announcement had occasioned. The hand + that had rested on the buckle of his sword-belt slipped quietly to his + side, and he deliberately stepped up to Gregory, his eyes set searchingly + upon the pale, flabby face before him. A sudden suspicion darting through + his mind, he took his brother by the shoulders and shook him vigorously. + </p> + <p> + “Gregory, you fool, you have drunk overdeep in my absence.” + </p> + <p> + “I have, I have,” wailed Gregory, “and, my God, 'twas he was my + table-fellow, and set me the example.” + </p> + <p> + “Like enough, like enough,” returned Joseph, with a contemptuous laugh. + “My poor Gregory, the wine has so fouled your worthless wits at last, that + they conjure up phantoms to sit at the table with you. Come, man, what + petticoat business is this? Bestir yourself, fool.” + </p> + <p> + At that Gregory caught the drift of Joseph's suspicions. + </p> + <p> + “Tis you are the fool,” he retorted angrily, springing to his feet, and + towering above his brother. + </p> + <p> + “It was no ghost sat with me, but Roland Marleigh, himself, in the flesh, + and strangely changed by time. So changed that I knew him not, nor should + I know him now but for that which, not ten minutes ago, I overheard.” + </p> + <p> + His earnestness was too impressive, his sanity too obvious, and Joseph's + suspicions were all scattered before it. + </p> + <p> + He caught Gregory's wrist in a grip that made him wince, and forced him + back into his seat. + </p> + <p> + “Gadslife, man, what is it you mean?” he demanded through set teeth. “Tell + me.” + </p> + <p> + And forthwith Gregory told him of the manner of Kenneth's coming to + Sheringham and to Castle Marleigh, accompanied by one Crispin Galliard, + the same that had been known for his mad exploits in the late wars as + “rakehelly Galliard,” and that was now known to the malignants as “The + Tavern Knight” for his debauched habits. Crispin's mention of Roland + Marleigh on the night of his arrival now returned vividly to Gregory's + mind, and he repeated it, ending with the story that that very evening he + had overheard Kenneth telling Cynthia. + </p> + <p> + “And this Galliard, then, is none other than that pup of insolence, Roland + Marleigh, grown into a dog of war?” quoth Joseph. + </p> + <p> + He was calm—singularly calm for one who had heard such news. + </p> + <p> + “There remains no doubt of it.” + </p> + <p> + “And you saw this man day by day, sat with him night by night over your + damned sack, and knew him not? Oddswounds, man, where were your eyes?” + </p> + <p> + “I may have been blind. But he is greatly changed. I would defy you, + Joseph, to have recognized him.” + </p> + <p> + Joseph sneered, and the flash of his eyes told of the contempt wherein he + held his brother's judgment and opinions. + </p> + <p> + “Think not that, Gregory. I have cause enough to remember him,” said + Joseph, with an unpleasant laugh. Then as suddenly changing his tone for + one of eager anxiety: + </p> + <p> + “But the lad, Gregory, does he suspect, think you?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a whit. In that lies this fellow's diabolical cunning. Learning of + Kenneth's relations with us, he seized the opportunity Fate offered him + that night at Worcester, and bound the lad on oath to help him when he + should demand it, without disclosing the names of those against whom he + should require his services. The boy expects at any moment to be bidden to + go forth with him upon his mission of revenge, little dreaming that it is + here that that tragedy is to be played out.” + </p> + <p> + “This comes of your fine matrimonial projects for Cynthia,” muttered + Joseph acridly. He laughed his unpleasant laugh again, and for a spell + there was silence. + </p> + <p> + “To think, Gregory,” he broke out at last, “that for a fortnight he should + have been beneath this roof, and you should have found no means of doing + more effectively that which was done too carelessly eighteen years ago.” + </p> + <p> + He spoke as coldly as though the matter were a trivial one. Gregory + shuddered and looked at his brother in alarm. + </p> + <p> + “What now, fool?” cried Joseph, scowling. “Are you as cowardly as you are + blind? Damn me, sir, it seems well that I am returned. I'll have no + Marleigh plague my old age for me.” He paused a moment, then continued in + a quieter voice, but one whose ring was sinister beyond words: “Tomorrow I + shall find a way to draw this your dog of war to some secluded ground. I + have some skill,” he pursued, tapping his hilt as he spoke, “besides, you + shall be there, Gregory.” And he smiled darkly. “Is there no other way?” + asked Gregory, in distress. + </p> + <p> + “There was,” answered Joseph. “There was in Parliament. At Whitehall I met + a man—one Colonel Pride—a bloodthirsty old Puritan soldier, + who would give his right hand to see this Galliard hanged. Galliard, it + seems, slew the fellow's son at Worcester. Had I but known,” he added + regretfully—“had your wits been keener, and you had discovered it + and sent me word, I had found means to help Colonel Pride to his revenge. + As it is”—he shrugged his shoulders—“there is not time.” + </p> + <p> + “It may be—” began Gregory, then stopped abruptly with an + exclamation that caused Joseph to wheel sharply round. The door had + opened, and on the threshold Sir Crispin Galliard stood, deferentially, + hat in hand. + </p> + <p> + Joseph's astonished glance played rapidly over him for a second. Then: + </p> + <p> + “Who the devil may you be?” he blurted out. + </p> + <p> + Despite his anxiety, Gregory chuckled at the question. The Tavern Knight + came forward. “I am Sir Crispin Galliard, at your service,” said he, + bowing. “I was told that the master of Marleigh was returned, and that I + should find you here, and I hasten, sir, to proffer you my thanks for the + generous shelter this house has given me this fortnight past.” + </p> + <p> + Whilst he spoke he measured Joseph with his eyes, and his glance was as + hateful as his words were civil. Joseph was lost in amazement. Little + trace was there in this fellow of the Roland Marleigh he had known. + Moreover, he had looked to find an older man, forgetting that Roland's age + could not exceed thirty-eight. Then, again, the fading light, whilst + revealing the straight, supple lines of his lank figure, softened the + haggardness of the face and made him appear yet younger than the light of + day would have shown him. + </p> + <p> + In an instant Joseph had recovered from his surprise, and for all that his + mind misgave him tortured by a desire to learn whether Crispin was aware + of their knowledge concerning him—his smile was serene, and his + tones level and pleasant, as he made answer: + </p> + <p> + “Sir, you are very welcome. You have valiantly served one dear to us, and + the entertainment of our poor house for as long as you may deign to honour + it is but the paltriest of returns.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. THE RECKONING + </h2> + <p> + Sir Crispin had heard naught of what was being said as he entered the room + wherein the brothers plotted against him, and he little dreamt that his + identity was discovered. He had but hastened to perform that which, under + ordinary circumstances, would have been a natural enough duty towards the + master of the house. He had been actuated also by an impatience again to + behold this Joseph Ashburn—the man who had dealt him that murderous + sword-thrust eighteen years ago. He watched him attentively, and gathering + from his scrutiny that here was a dangerous, subtle man, different, + indeed, to his dull-witted brother, he had determined to act at once. + </p> + <p> + And so when he appeared in the hall at suppertime, he came armed and + booted, and equipped as for a journey. + </p> + <p> + Joseph was standing alone by the huge fire-place, his face to the burning + logs, and his foot resting upon one of the andirons. Gregory and his + daughter were talking together in the embrasure of a window. By the other + window, across the hall, stood Kenneth, alone and disconsolate, gazing out + at the drizzling rain that had begun to fall. + </p> + <p> + As Galliard descended, Joseph turned his head, and his eyebrows shot up + and wrinkled his forehead at beholding the knight's equipment. + </p> + <p> + “How is this, Sir Crispin?” said he. “You are going a journey?” + </p> + <p> + “Too long already have I imposed myself upon the hospitality of Castle + Marleigh,” Crispin answered politely as he came and stood before the + blazing logs. “To-night, Mr. Ashburn, I go hence.” + </p> + <p> + A curious expression flitted across Joseph's face. The next moment, his + brows still knit as he sought to fathom his sudden action, he was + muttering the formal regrets that courtesy dictated. But Crispin had + remarked that singular expression on Joseph's face—fleeting though + it had been—and it flashed across his mind that Joseph knew him. And + as he moved away towards Cynthia and her father, he thanked Heaven that he + had taken such measures as he had thought wise and prudent for the + carrying out of his resolve. + </p> + <p> + Following him with a glance, Joseph asked himself whether Crispin had + discovered that he was recognized, and had determined to withdraw, leaving + his vengeance for another and more propitious season. In answer—little + knowing the measure of the man he dealt with—he told himself it must + be so, and having arrived at that conclusion, he there and then determined + that Crispin should not depart free to return and plague them when he + listed. Since Galliard shrank from forcing matters to an issue, he himself + would do it that very night, and thereby settle for all time his business. + And so ere he sat down to sup Joseph looked to it that his sword lay at + hand behind his chair at the table-head. + </p> + <p> + The meal was a quiet one enough. Kenneth was sulking 'neath the fresh + ill-usage—as he deemed it—that he had suffered at Cynthia's + hands. Cynthia, in her turn, was grave and silent. That story of Sir + Crispin's sufferings gave her much to think of, as did also his departure, + and more than once did Galliard find her eyes fixed upon him with a look + half of pity, half of some other feeling that he was at a loss to + interpret. Gregory's big voice was little heard. The sinister glitter in + his brother's eye made him apprehensive and ill at ease. For him the hour + was indeed in travail and like to bring forth strange doings—but not + half so much as it was for Crispin and Joseph, each bent upon forcing + matters to a head ere they quitted that board. And yet but for these two + the meal would have passed off in dismal silence. Joseph was at pains to + keep suspicion from his guest, and with that intent he talked gaily of + this and that, told of slight matters that had befallen him on his recent + journey and of the doings that in London he had witnessed, investing each + trifling incident with a garb of wit that rendered it entertaining. + </p> + <p> + And Galliard—actuated by the same motives grew reminiscent whenever + Joseph paused and let his nimble tongue—even nimblest at a table + amuse those present, or seem to amuse them, by a score of drolleries. + </p> + <p> + He drank deeply too, and this Joseph observed with satisfaction. But here + again he misjudged his man. Kenneth, who ate but little, seemed also to + have developed an enormous thirst, and Crispin grew at length alarmed at + that ever empty goblet so often filled. He would have need of Kenneth ere + the hour was out, and he rightly feared that did matters thus continue, + the lad's aid was not to be reckoned with. Had Kenneth sat beside him he + might have whispered a word of restraint in his eat, but the lad was on + the other side of the board. + </p> + <p> + At one moment Crispin fancied that a look of intelligence passed from + Joseph to Gregory, and when presently Gregory set himself to ply both him + and the boy with wine, his suspicions became certainties, and he grew + watchful and wary. + </p> + <p> + Anon Cynthia rose. Upon the instant Galliard was also on his feet. He + escorted her to the foot of the staircase, and there: + </p> + <p> + “Permit me, Mistress Cynthia,” said he, “to take my leave of you. In an + hour or so I shall be riding away from Castle Marleigh.” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes sought the ground, and had he been observant of her he might have + noticed that she paled slightly. + </p> + <p> + “Fare you well, sir,” said she in a low voice. “May happiness attend you.” + </p> + <p> + “Madam, I thank you. Fare you well.” + </p> + <p> + He bowed low. She dropped him a slight curtsey, and ascended the stairs. + Once as she reached the gallery above she turned. He had resumed his seat + at table, and was in the act of filling his glass. The servants had + withdrawn, and for half an hour thereafter they sat on, sipping their + wine, and making conversation—while Crispin drained bumper after + bumper and grew every instant more boisterous, until at length his + boisterousness passed into incoherence. His eyelids drooped heavily, and + his chin kept ever and anon sinking forward on to his breast. + </p> + <p> + Kenneth, flushed with wine, yet master of his wits, watched him with + contempt. This was the man Cynthia preferred to him! Contempt was there + also in Joseph Ashburn's eye, mingled with satisfaction. He had not looked + to find the task so easy. At length he deemed the season ripe. + </p> + <p> + “My brother tells me that you were once acquainted with Roland Marleigh,” + said he. + </p> + <p> + “Aye,” he answered thickly. “I knew the dog—a merry, reckless soul, + d—n me. 'Twas his recklessness killed him, poor devil—that and + your hand, Mr. Ashburn, so the story goes.” + </p> + <p> + “What story?” + </p> + <p> + “What story?” echoed Crispin. “The story that I heard. Do you say I lie?” + And, swaying in his chair, he sought to assume an air of defiance. + </p> + <p> + Joseph laughed in a fashion that made Kenneth's blood run cold. + </p> + <p> + “Why, no, I don't deny it. It was in fair fight he fell. Moreover, he + brought the duel upon himself.” + </p> + <p> + Crispin spoke no word in answer, but rose unsteadily to his feet, so + unsteadily that his chair was overset and fell with a crash behind him. + For a moment he surveyed it with a drunken leer, then went lurching across + the hall towards the door that led to the servants' quarters. The three + men sat on, watching his antics in contempt, curiosity, and amusement. + They saw him gain the heavy oaken door and close it. They heard the bolts + rasp as he shot them home, and the lock click; and they saw him withdraw + the key and slip it into his pocket. + </p> + <p> + The cold smile still played round Joseph's lips as Crispin turned to face + them again, and on Joseph's lips did that same smile freeze as he saw him + standing there, erect and firm, his drunkenness all vanished, and his eyes + keen and fierce; as he heard the ring of his metallic voice: + </p> + <p> + “You lie, Joseph Ashburn. It was no fair fight. It was no duel. It was a + foul, murderous stroke you dealt him in the back, thinking to butcher him + as you butchered his wife and his babe. But there is a God, Master + Ashburn,” he went on in an ever-swelling voice, “and I lived. Like a + salamander I came through the flames in which you sought to destroy all + trace of your vile deed. I lived, and I, Crispin Galliard, the debauched + Tavern Knight that was once Roland Marleigh, am here to demand a + reckoning.” + </p> + <p> + The very incarnation was he then of an avenger, as he stood towering + before them, his grim face livid with the passion into which he had lashed + himself as he spoke, his blazing eyes watching them in that cunning, + half-closed way that was his when his mood was dangerous. And yet the only + one that quailed was Kenneth, his ally, upon whom comprehension burst with + stunning swiftness. + </p> + <p> + Joseph recovered quickly from the surprise of Crispin's suddenly reassumed + sobriety. He understood the trick that Galliard had played upon them so + that he might cut off their retreat in the only direction in which they + might have sought assistance, and he cursed himself for not having + foreseen it. Still, anxiety he felt none; his sword was to his hand, and + Gregory was armed; at the very worst they were two calm and able men + opposed to a half-intoxicated boy, and a man whom fury, he thought, must + strip of half his power. Probably, indeed, the lad would side with them, + despite his plighted word. Again, he had but to raise his voice, and, + though the door that Crispin had fastened was a stout one, he never + doubted but that his call would penetrate it and bring his servants to his + rescue. + </p> + <p> + And so, a smile of cynical unconcern returned to his lips and his answer + was delivered in a cold, incisive voice. + </p> + <p> + “The reckoning you have come to demand shall be paid you, sir. Rakehelly + Galliard is the hero of many a reckless deed, but my judgment is much at + fault if this prove not his crowning recklessness and his last one. + Gadswounds, sir, are you mad to come hither single-handed to beard the + lion in his den?” + </p> + <p> + “Rather the cur in his kennel,” sneered Crispin back. “Blood and wounds, + Master Joseph, think you to affright me with words?” + </p> + <p> + Still Joseph smiled, deeming himself master of the situation. + </p> + <p> + “Were help needed, the raising of my voice would bring it me. But it is + not. We are three to one.” + </p> + <p> + “You reckon wrongly. Mr. Stewart belongs to me to-night—bound by an + oath that 'twould damn his soul to break, to help me when and where I may + call upon him; and I call upon him now. Kenneth, draw your sword.” + </p> + <p> + Kenneth groaned as he stood by, clasping and unclasping his hands. + </p> + <p> + “God's curse on you,” he burst out. “You have tricked me, you have cheated + me.” + </p> + <p> + “Bear your oath in mind,” was the cold answer. “If you deem yourself + wronged by me, hereafter you shall have what satisfaction you demand. But + first fulfil me what you have sworn. Out with your blade, man.” + </p> + <p> + Still Kenneth hesitated, and but for Gregory's rash action at that + critical juncture, it is possible that he would have elected to break his + plighted word. But Gregory fearing that he might determine otherwise, + resolved there and then to remove the chance of it. Whipping out his + sword, he made a vicious pass at the lad's breast. Kenneth avoided it by + leaping backwards, but in an instant Gregory had sprung after him, and + seeing himself thus beset, Kenneth was forced to draw that he might + protect himself. + </p> + <p> + They stood in the space between the table and that part of the hall that + abutted on to the terrace; opposite to them, by the door which he had + closed, stood Crispin. At the table-head Joseph still sat cool, + self-contained, even amused. + </p> + <p> + He realized the rashness of Gregory's attack upon one that might yet have + been won over to their side; but he never doubted that a few passes would + dispose of the lad's opposition, and he sought not to interfere. Then he + saw Crispin advancing towards him slowly, his rapier naked in his hand, + and he was forced to look to himself. He caught at the sword that stood + behind him, and leaping to his feet he sprang forward to meet his grim + antagonist. Galliard's eyes flashed out a look of joy, he raised his + rapier, and their blades met. + </p> + <p> + To the clash of their meeting came an echoing clash from beyond the table. + </p> + <p> + “Hold, sir!” Kenneth had cried, as Gregory bore down upon him. But + Gregory's answer had been a lunge which the boy had been forced to parry. + Taking that crossing of blades for a sign of opposition, Gregory thrust + again more viciously. Kenneth parried narrowly, his blade pointing + straight at his aggressor. He saw the opening, and both instinct and the + desire to repel Gregory's onslaught drew him into attempting a riposte, + which drove Gregory back until his shoulders touched the panels of the + wall. Simultaneously the boy's foot struck the back of the chair which in + rising Crispin had overset, and he stumbled. How it happened he scarcely + knew, but as he hurtled forward his blade slid along his opponent's, and + entering Gregory's right shoulder pinned him to the wainscot. + </p> + <p> + Joseph heard the tinkle of a falling blade, and assumed it to be + Kenneth's. For the rest he was just then too busy to dare withdraw for a + second his eyes from Crispin's. Until that hour Joseph Ashburn had + accounted himself something of a swordsman, and more than a match for most + masters of the weapon. But in Crispin he found a fencer of a quality such + as he had never yet encountered. Every feint, every botte in his catalogue + had he paraded in quick succession, yet ever with the same result—his + point was foiled and put aside with ease. + </p> + <p> + Desperately he fought now, darting that point of his hither and thither in + and out whenever the slightest opening offered; yet ever did it meet the + gentle averting pressure of Crispin's blade. He fought on and marvelled as + the seconds went by that Gregory came not to his aid. Then the sickening + thought that perhaps Gregory was overcome occurred to him. In such a case + he must reckon upon himself alone. He cursed the over-confidence that had + led him into that ever-fatal error of underestimating his adversary. He + might have known that one who had acquired Sir Crispin's fame was no + ordinary man, but one accustomed to face great odds and master them. He + might call for help. + </p> + <p> + He marvelled as the thought occurred to him that the clatter of their + blades had not drawn his servants from their quarters. Fencing still, he + raised his voice: + </p> + <p> + “Ho, there! John, Stephen!” + </p> + <p> + “Spare your breath,” growled the knight. “I dare swear you'll have need of + it. None will hear you, call as you will. I gave your four henchmen a + flagon of wine wherein to drink to my safe journey hence. They have + emptied it ere this, I make no doubt, and a single glass of it would set + the hardest toper asleep for the round of the clock.” + </p> + <p> + An oath was Joseph's only answer—a curse it was upon his own folly + and assurance. A little while ago he had thought to have drawn so tight a + net about this ruler, and here was he now taken in its very toils, + well-nigh exhausted and in his enemy's power. + </p> + <p> + It occurred to him then that Crispin stayed his hand. That he fenced only + on the defensive, and he wondered what might his motive be. He realized + that he was mastered, and that at any moment Galliard might send home his + blade. He was bathed from head to foot in a sweat that was at once of + exertion and despair. A frenzy seized him. Might he not yet turn to + advantage this hesitancy of Crispin's to strike the final blow? + </p> + <p> + He braced himself for a supreme effort, and turning his wrist from a + simulated thrust in the first position, he doubled, and stretching out, + lunged vigorously in quarte. As he lengthened his arm in the stroke there + came a sudden twitch at his wrist; the weapon was twisted from his grasp, + and he stood disarmed at Crispin's mercy. + </p> + <p> + A gurgling cry broke despite him from his lips, and his eyes grew wide in + a sickly terror as they encountered the knight's sinister glance. Not + three paces behind him was the wall, and on it, within the hand's easy + reach, hung many a trophied weapon that might have served him then. But + the fascination of fear was upon him, benumbing his wits and paralysing + his limbs, with the thought that the next pulsation of his tumultuous + heart would prove its last. The calm, unflinching courage that had been + Joseph's only virtue was shattered, and his iron will that had + unscrupulously held hitherto his very conscience in bondage was turned to + water now that he stood face to face with death. + </p> + <p> + Eons of time it seemed to him were sped since the sword was wrenched from + his hand, and still the stroke he awaited came not; still Crispin stood, + sinister and silent before him, watching him with magnetic, fascinating + eyes—as the snake watches the bird—eyes from which Joseph + could not withdraw his own, and yet before which it seemed to him that he + quaked and shrivelled. + </p> + <p> + The candles were burning low in their sconces, and the corners of that + ample, gloomy hall were filled with mysterious shadows that formed a + setting well attuned to the grim picture made by those two figures—the + one towering stern and vengeful, the other crouching palsied and livid. + </p> + <p> + Beyond the table, and with the wounded Gregory—lying unconscious and + bleeding—at his feet, stood Kenneth looking on in silence, in wonder + and in some horror too. + </p> + <p> + To him also, as he watched, the seconds seemed minutes from the time when + Crispin had disarmed his opponent until with a laugh—short and + sudden as a stab—he dropped his sword and caught his victim by the + throat. + </p> + <p> + However fierce the passion that had actuated Crispin, it had been held + hitherto in strong subjection. But now at last it suddenly welled up and + mastered him, causing him to cast all restraint to the winds, to abandon + reason, and to give way to the lust of rage that rendered ungovernable his + mood. + </p> + <p> + Like a burst of flame from embers that have been smouldering was the + upleaping of his madness, transfiguring his face and transforming his + whole being. A new, unconquerable strength possessed him; his pulses + throbbed swiftly and madly with the quickened coursing of his blood, and + his soul was filled with the cruel elation that attends a lust about to be + indulged the elation of the beast about to rend its prey. + </p> + <p> + He was pervaded by the desire to wreak slowly and with his hands the + destruction of his broken enemy. To have passed his sword through him + would have been too swiftly done; the man would have died, and Crispin + would have known nothing of his sufferings. But to take him thus by the + throat; slowly to choke the life's breath out of him; to feel his + desperate, writhing struggles; to be conscious of every agonized twitch of + his sinews, to watch the purpling face, the swelling veins, the protruding + eyes filled with the dumb horror of his agony; to hold him thus—each + second becoming a distinct, appreciable division of time—and thus to + take what payment he could for all the blighted years that lay behind him—this + he felt would be something like revenge. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the shock of surprise at the unlooked-for movement had awakened + again the man in Joseph. For a second even Hope knocked at his heart. He + was sinewy and active, and perchance he might yet make Galliard repent + that he had discarded his rapier. The knight's reason for doing so he + thought he had in Crispin's contemptuous words: + </p> + <p> + “Good steel were too great an honour for you, Mr. Ashburn.” + </p> + <p> + And as he spoke, his lean, nervous fingers tightened about Joseph's throat + in a grip that crushed the breath from him, and with it the new-born hope + of proving master in his fresh combat. He had not reckoned with this + galley-weaned strength of Crispin's, a strength that was a revelation to + Joseph as he felt himself almost lifted from the ground, and swung this + way and that, like a babe in the hands of a grown man. Vain were his + struggles. His strength ebbed fast; the blood, held overlong in his head, + was already obscuring his vision, when at last the grip relaxed, and his + breathing was freed. As his sight cleared again he found himself back in + his chair at the table-head, and beside him Sir Crispin, his left hand + resting upon the board, his right grasping once more the sword, and his + eyes bent mockingly and evilly upon his victim. + </p> + <p> + Kenneth, looking on, could not repress a shudder. He had known Crispin for + a tempestuous man quickly moved to wrath, and he had oftentimes seen anger + make terrible his face and glance. But never had he seen aught in him to + rival this present frenzy; it rendered satanical the baleful glance of his + eyes and the awful smile of hate and mockery with which he gazed at last + upon the helpless quarry that he had waited eighteen years to bring to + earth. “I would,” said Crispin, in a harsh, deliberate voice, “that you + had a score of lives, Master Joseph. As it is I have done what I could. + Two agonies have you undergone already, and I am inclined to mercy. The + end is at hand. If you have prayers to say, say them, Master Ashburn, + though I doubt me it will be wasted breath—you are over-ripe for + hell.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean to kill me,” he gasped, growing yet a shade more livid. + </p> + <p> + “Does the suspicion of it but occur to you?” laughed Crispin, “and yet + twice already have I given you a foretaste of death. Think you I but + jested?” + </p> + <p> + Joseph's teeth clicked together in a snap of determination. That sneer of + Crispin's acted upon him as a blow—but as a blow that arouses the + desire to retaliate rather than lays low. He braced himself for fresh + resistance; not of action, for that he realized was futile, but of + argument. + </p> + <p> + “It is murder that you do,” he cried. + </p> + <p> + “No; it is justice. It has been long on the way, but it has come at last.” + </p> + <p> + “Bethink you, Mr. Marleigh—” + </p> + <p> + “Call me not by that name,” cried the other harshly, fearfully. “I have + not borne it these eighteen years, and thanks to what you have made me, it + is not meet that I should bear it now.” There was a pause. Then Joseph + spoke again with great calm and earnestness. + </p> + <p> + “Bethink you, Sir Crispin, of what you are about to do. It can benefit you + in naught.” + </p> + <p> + “Oddslife, think you it cannot? Think you it will benefit me naught to see + you earn at last your reward?” + </p> + <p> + “You may have dearly to pay for what at best must prove a fleeting + satisfaction.” + </p> + <p> + “Not a fleeting one, Joseph,” he laughed. “But one the memory of which + shall send me rejoicing through what years or days of life be left me. A + satisfaction that for eighteen years I have been waiting to experience; + though the moment after it be mine find me stark and cold.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir Crispin, you are in enmity with the Parliament—an outlaw + almost. I have some influence much influence. By exerting it—” + </p> + <p> + “Have done, sir!” cried Crispin angrily. “You talk in vain. What to me is + life, or aught that life can give? If I have so long endured the burden of + it, it has been so that I might draw from it this hour. Do you think there + is any bribe you could offer would turn me from my purpose?” + </p> + <p> + A groan from Gregory, who was regaining consciousness, drew his attention + aside. + </p> + <p> + “Truss him up, Kenneth,” he commanded, pointing to the recumbent figure. + “How? Do you hesitate? Now, as God lives, I'll be obeyed; or you shall + have an unpleasant reminder of the oath you swore me!” + </p> + <p> + With a look of loathing the lad dropped on his knees to do as he was + bidden. Then of a sudden: + </p> + <p> + “I have not the means,” he announced. + </p> + <p> + “Fool, does he not wear a sword-belt and a sash? Come, attend to it!” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you force me to do this?” the lad still protested passionately. + “You have tricked and cheated me, yet I have kept my oath and rendered you + the assistance you required. They are in your power now, can you not do + the rest yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “On my soul, Master Stewart, I am over-patient with you! Are we to wrangle + at every step before you'll take it? I will have your assistance through + this matter as you swore to give it. Come, truss me that fellow, and have + done with words.” + </p> + <p> + His fierceness overthrew the boy's outburst of resistance. Kenneth had wit + enough to see that his mood was not one to brook much opposition, and so, + with an oath and a groan, he went to work to pinion Gregory. + </p> + <p> + Then Joseph spoke again. “Weigh well this act of yours, Sir Crispin,” he + cried. “You are still young; much of life lies yet before you. Do not + wantonly destroy it by an act that cannot repair the past.” + </p> + <p> + “But it can avenge it, Joseph. As for my life, you destroyed it years ago. + The future has naught to offer me; the present has this.” And he drew back + his sword to strike. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. JOSEPH DRIVES A BARGAIN + </h2> + <p> + A new terror leapt into Joseph's eyes at that movement of Crispin's, and + for the third time that night did he taste the agony that is Death's + forerunner. Yet Galliard delayed the stroke. He held his sword poised, the + point aimed at Joseph's breast, and holding, he watched him, marking each + phase of the terror reflected upon his livid countenance. He was loth to + strike, for to strike would mean to end this exquisite torture of horror + to which he was subjecting him. + </p> + <p> + Broken Joseph had been before and passive; now of a sudden he grew violent + again, but in a different way. He flung himself upon his knees before Sir + Crispin, and passionately he pleaded for the sparing of his miserable + life. + </p> + <p> + Crispin looked on with an eye both of scorn and of cold relish. It was + thus he wished to see him, broken and agonized, suffering thus something + of all that which he himself had suffered through despair in the years + that were sped. With satisfaction then he watched his victim's agony; he + watched it too with scorn and some loathing—for a craven was in his + eyes an ugly sight, and Joseph in that moment was truly become as vile a + coward as ever man beheld. His parchment-like face was grey and mottled, + his brow bedewed with sweat; his lips were blue and quivering, his eyes + bloodshot and almost threatening tears. + </p> + <p> + In the silence of one who waits stood Crispin, listening, calm and + unmoved, as though he heard not, until Joseph's whining prayers culminated + in an offer to make reparation. Then Crispin broke in at length with an + impatient gesture. + </p> + <p> + “What reparation can you make, you murderer? Can you restore to me the + wife and child you butchered eighteen years ago?” + </p> + <p> + “I can restore your child at least,” returned the other. “I can and will + restore him to you if you but stay your hand. That and much more will I do + to repair the past.” + </p> + <p> + Unconsciously Crispin lowered his sword-arm, and for a full minute he + stood and stared at Joseph. His jaw was fallen and the grim firmness all + gone from his face, and replaced by amazement, then unbelief followed by + inquiry; then unbelief again. The pallor of his cheeks seemed to + intensify. At last, however, he broke into a hard laugh. + </p> + <p> + “What lie is this you offer me? Zounds, man, are you not afraid?” + </p> + <p> + “It is no lie,” Joseph cried, in accents so earnest that some of the + unbelief passed again from Galliard's face. “It is the truth-God's truth. + Your son lives.” + </p> + <p> + “Hell-hound, it is a lie! On that fell night, as I swooned under your + cowardly thrust, I heard you calling to your brother to slit the squalling + bastard's throat. Those were your very words, Master Joseph.” + </p> + <p> + “I own I bade him do it, but I was not obeyed. He swore we should give the + babe a chance of life. It should never know whose son it was, he said, and + I agreed. We took the boy away. He has lived and thrived.” + </p> + <p> + The knight sank on to a chair as though bereft of strength. He sought to + think, but thinking coherently he could not. At last: + </p> + <p> + “How shall I know that you are not lying? What proof can you advance?” he + demanded hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + “I swear that what I have told you is true. I swear it by the cross of our + Redeemer!” he protested, with a solemnity that was not without effect upon + Crispin. Nevertheless, he sneered. + </p> + <p> + “I ask for proofs, man, not oaths. What proofs can you afford me?” + </p> + <p> + “There are the man and the woman whom the lad was reared by.” + </p> + <p> + “And where shall I find them?” + </p> + <p> + Joseph opened his lips to answer, then closed them again. In his eagerness + he had almost parted with the information which he now proposed to make + the price of his life. He regained confidence at Crispin's tone and + questions, gathering from both that the knight was willing to believe if + proof were set before him. He rose to his feet, and when next he spoke his + voice had won back much of its habitual calm deliberateness. + </p> + <p> + “That,” said he, “I will tell you when you have promised to go hence, + leaving Gregory and me unharmed. I will supply you with what money you may + need, and I will give you a letter to those people, so couched that what + they tell you by virtue of it shall be a corroboration of my words.” + </p> + <p> + His elbow resting upon the table, and his hand to his brow so that it + shaded his eyes, sat Crispin long in thought, swayed by emotions and + doubts, the like of which he had never yet known in the whole of his + chequered life. Was Joseph lying to him? + </p> + <p> + That was the question that repeatedly arose, and oddly enough, for all his + mistrust of the man, he was inclined to account true the ring of his + words. Joseph watched him with much anxiety and some hope. + </p> + <p> + At length Crispin withdrew his hands from eyes that were grown haggard, + and rose. + </p> + <p> + “Let us see the letter that you will write,” said he. “There you have pen, + ink, and paper. Write.” + </p> + <p> + “You promise?” asked Joseph. + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you when you have written.” + </p> + <p> + In a hand that shook somewhat, Joseph wrote a few lines, then handed + Crispin the sheet, whereon he read: + </p> + <p> + The bearer of this is Sir Crispin Galliard, who is intimately interested + in the matter that lies betwixt us, and whom I pray you answer fully and + accurately the questions he may put you in that connexion. + </p> + <p> + “I understand,” said Crispin slowly. “Yes, it will serve. Now the + superscription.” And he returned the paper. + </p> + <p> + Ashburn was himself again by now. He realized the advantage he had gained, + and he would not easily relinquish it. + </p> + <p> + “I shall add the superscription,” said he calmly, “when you swear to + depart without further molesting us.” + </p> + <p> + Crispin paused a moment, weighing the position well in his mind. If Joseph + lied to him now, he would find means to return, he told himself, and so he + took the oath demanded. + </p> + <p> + Joseph dipped his pen, and paused meditatively to watch a drop of ink, + wherewith it was overladen, fall back into the horn. The briefest of + pauses was it, yet it was not the accident it appeared to be. Hitherto + Joseph had been as sincere as he had been earnest, intent alone upon + saving his life at all costs, and forgetting in his fear of the present + the dangers that the future might hold for him were Crispin Galliard still + at large. But in that second of dipping his quill, assured that the peril + of the moment was overcome, and that Crispin would go forth as he said, + the devil whispered in his ear a cunning and vile suggestion. As he + watched the drop of ink roll from his pen-point, he remembered that in + London there dwelt at the sign of the Anchor, in Thames Street, one + Colonel Pride, whose son this Galliard had slain, and who, did he once lay + hands upon him, was not like to let him go again. In a second was the + thought conceived and the determination taken, and as he folded the letter + and set upon it the superscription, Joseph felt that he could have cried + out in his exultation at the cunning manner in which he was outwitting his + enemy. + </p> + <p> + Crispin took the package, and read thereon: + </p> + <p> + This is to Mr. Henry Lane, at the sign of the Anchor, Thames Street, + London. + </p> + <p> + The name was a fictitious one—one that Joseph had set down upon the + spur of the moment, his intention being to send a messenger that should + outstrip Sir Crispin, and warn Colonel Pride of his coming. + </p> + <p> + “It is well,” was Crispin's only comment. He, too, was grown calm again + and fully master of himself. He placed the letter carefully within the + breast of his doublet. + </p> + <p> + “If you have lied to me, if this is but a shift to win your miserable + life, rest assured, Master Ashburn, that you have but put off the day for + a very little while.” + </p> + <p> + It was on Joseph's lips to answer that none of us are immortal, but he + bethought him that the pleasantry might be ill-timed, and bowed in + silence. + </p> + <p> + Galliard took his hat and cloak from the chair on which he had placed them + upon descending that evening. Then he turned again to Joseph. + </p> + <p> + “You spoke of money a moment ago,” he said, in the tones of one demanding + what is his own the tones of a gentleman speaking to his steward. “I will + take two hundred Caroluses. More I cannot carry in comfort.” + </p> + <p> + Joseph gasped at the amount. For a second it even entered his mind to + resist the demand. Then he remembered that there was a brace of pistols in + his study; if he could get those he would settle matters there and then + without the aid of Colonel Pride. + </p> + <p> + “I will fetch the money,” said he, betraying his purpose by his alacrity. + </p> + <p> + “By your leave, Master Ashburn, I will come with you.” + </p> + <p> + Joseph's eyes flashed him a quick look of baffled hate. + </p> + <p> + “As you will,” said he, with an ill grace. + </p> + <p> + As they passed out, Crispin turned to Kenneth. + </p> + <p> + “Remember, sir, you are still in my service. See that you keep good + watch.” + </p> + <p> + Kenneth bent his head without replying. But Master Gregory required little + watching. He lay a helpless, half-swooning heap upon the floor, which he + had smeared with the blood oozing from his wounded shoulder. Even were he + untrussed, there was little to be feared from him. + </p> + <p> + During the brief while they were alone together, Kenneth did not so much + as attempt to speak to him. He sat himself down upon the nearest chair, + and with his chin in his hands and his elbows on his knees he pondered + over the miserable predicament into which Sir Crispin had got him, and + more bitter than ever it had been was his enmity at that moment towards + the knight. That Galliard should be upon the eve of finding his son, and a + sequel to the story he had heard from him that night in Worcester, was to + Kenneth a thing of no interest or moment. Galliard had ruined him with + these Ashburns. He could never now hope to win the hand of Cynthia, to + achieve which he had been willing to turn both fool and knave—aye, + had turned both. There was naught left him but to return him to the paltry + Scottish estate of his fathers, there to meet the sneers of those who no + doubt had heard that he was gone South to marry a great English heiress. + </p> + <p> + That at such a season he could think of this but serves to prove the + shallow nature of his feelings. A love was his that had gain and vanity + for its foundation—in fact, it was no love at all. For what he + accounted love for Cynthia was but the love of himself, which through + Cynthia he sought to indulge. + </p> + <p> + He cursed the ill-luck that had brought Crispin into his life. He cursed + Crispin for the evil he had suffered from him, forgetting that but for + Crispin he would have been carrion a month ago and more. + </p> + <p> + Deep at his bitter musings was he when the door opened again to admit + Joseph, followed by Galliard. The knight came across the hall and stooped + to look at Gregory. + </p> + <p> + “You may untruss him, Kenneth, when I am gone,” said he. “And in a quarter + of an hour from now you are released from your oath to me. Fare you well,” + he added with unusual gentleness, and turning a glance that was almost + regretful upon the lad. “We are not like to meet again, but should we, I + trust it may be in happier times. If I have harmed you in this business, + remember that my need was great. Fare you well.” And he held out his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Take yourself to hell, sir!” answered Kenneth, turning his back upon him. + The ghost of an evil smile played round Joseph Ashburn's lips as he + watched them. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII. COUNTER-PLOT + </h2> + <p> + So soon as Sir Crispin had taken his departure, and whilst yet the beat of + his horse's hoofs was to be distinguished above the driving storm of rain + and wind without, Joseph hastened across the hall to the servants' + quarters. There he found his four grooms slumbering deeply, their faces + white and clammy, and their limbs twisted into odd, helpless attitudes. + Vainly did he rain down upon them kicks and curses; arouse them he could + not from the stupor in whose thrall they lay. + </p> + <p> + And so, seizing a lanthorn, he passed out to the stables, whence Crispin + had lately taken his best nag, and with his own hands he saddled a horse. + His lips were screwed into a curious smile—a smile that still + lingered upon them when presently he retraced his steps to the room where + his brother sat with Kenneth. + </p> + <p> + In his absence the lad had dressed Gregory's wound; he had induced him to + take a little wine, and had set him upon a chair, in which he now lay + back, white and exhausted. + </p> + <p> + “The quarter of an hour is passed, sir,” said Joseph coldly, as he + entered. + </p> + <p> + Kenneth made no sign that he heard. He sat on like a man in a dream. His + eyes that saw nothing were bent upon Gregory's pale, flabby face. + </p> + <p> + “The quarter of an hour is passed, sir,” Joseph repeated in a louder + voice. + </p> + <p> + Kenneth looked up, then rose and sighed, passing his hand wearily across + his forehead. + </p> + <p> + “I understand, sir,” he replied in a low voice. “You mean that I must go?” + </p> + <p> + Joseph waited a moment before replying. Then: + </p> + <p> + “It is past midnight,” he said slowly, “and the weather is wild. You may + lie here until morning, if you are so minded. But go you must then,” he + added sternly. “I need scarce say, sir, that you must have no speech with + Mistress Cynthia, nor that never again must you set foot within Castle + Marleigh.” + </p> + <p> + “I understand, sir; I understand. But you deal hardly with me.” + </p> + <p> + Joseph raised his eyebrows in questioning surprise. + </p> + <p> + “I was the victim of my oath, given when I knew not against whom my hand + was to be lifted. Oh, sir, am I to suffer all my life for a fault that was + not my own? You, Master Gregory,” he cried, turning passionately to + Cynthia's father, “you are perchance more merciful? You understand my + position—how I was forced into it.” + </p> + <p> + Gregory opened his heavy eyes. + </p> + <p> + “A plague on you, Master Stewart,” he groaned. “I understand that you have + given me a wound that will take a month to heal.” + </p> + <p> + “It was an accident, sir. I swear it was an accident!” + </p> + <p> + “To swear this and that appears to be your chief diversion in life,” + growled Gregory for answer. “You had best go; we are not likely to listen + to excuses.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you rather suggest a remedy,” Joseph put in quietly, “we might hear + you.” + </p> + <p> + Kenneth swung round and faced him, hope brightening his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “What remedy is there? How can I undo what I have done? Show me but the + way, and I'll follow it, no matter where it leads!” + </p> + <p> + Such protestations had Joseph looked to hear, and he was hard put to it to + dissemble his satisfaction. For a while he was silent, making pretence to + ponder. At length: + </p> + <p> + “Kenneth,” he said, “you may in some measure repair the evil you have + done, and if you are ready to undergo some slight discomfort, I shall be + willing on my side to forget this night.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me how, sir, and whatever the cost I will perform it!” + </p> + <p> + He gave no thought to the fact that Crispin's grievance against the + Ashburns was well-founded; that they had wrecked his life even as they had + sought to destroy it; even as eighteen years ago they had destroyed his + wife's. His only thought was Cynthia; his only wish was to possess her. + Besides that, justice and honour itself were of small account. + </p> + <p> + “It is but a slight matter,” answered Joseph. “A matter that I might + entrust to one of my grooms.” + </p> + <p> + That whilst his grooms lay drugged the matter was so pressing that his + messenger must set out that very night, Joseph did not think of adding. + </p> + <p> + “I would, sir,” answered the boy, “that the task were great and + difficult.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” answered Joseph with biting sarcasm, “we are acquainted with + both your courage and your resource.” He sat silent and thoughtful for + some moments, then with a sudden sharp glance at the lad: + </p> + <p> + “You shall have this chance of setting yourself right with us,” he said. + Then abruptly he added. + </p> + <p> + “Go make ready for a journey. You must set out within the hour for London. + Take what you may require and arm yourself; then return to me here.” + </p> + <p> + Gregory, who, despite his sluggish wits, divined—partly, at least—what + was afoot, made shift to speak. But his brother silenced him with a + glance. + </p> + <p> + “Go,” Joseph said to the boy. And, without comment, Kenneth rose and left + them. + </p> + <p> + “What would you do?” asked Gregory when the door had closed. + </p> + <p> + “Make doubly sure of that ruffian,” answered Joseph coldly. “Colonel Pride + might be absent when he arrives, and he might learn that none of the name + of Lane dwells at the Anchor in Thames Street. It would be fatal to awaken + his suspicions and bring him back to us.” + </p> + <p> + “But surely Richard or Stephen might carry your errand?” + </p> + <p> + “They might were they not so drugged that they cannot be aroused. I might + even go myself, but it is better so.” He laughed softly. “There is even + comedy in it. Kenneth shall outride our bloodthirsty knight to warn Pride + of his coming, and when he comes he will walk into the hands of the + hangman. It will be a surprise for him. For the rest I shall keep my + promise concerning his son. He shall have news of him from Pride—but + when too late to be of service.” + </p> + <p> + Gregory shuddered. + </p> + <p> + “Fore God, Joseph, 'tis a foul thing you do,” he cried. “Sooner would I + never set eyes on the lad again. Let him go his ways as you intended.” + </p> + <p> + “I never did intend it. What trustier messenger could I find now that I + have lent him zest by fright? To win Cynthia, we may rely upon him safely + to do that in which another might fail.” + </p> + <p> + “Joseph, you will roast in hell for it.” + </p> + <p> + Joseph laughed him to scorn. + </p> + <p> + “To bed with you, you canting hypocrite; your wound makes you + light-headed.” + </p> + <p> + It was a half-hour ere Kenneth returned, booted, cloaked, and ready for + his journey. He found Joseph alone, busily writing, and in obedience to a + sign he sat him down to wait. + </p> + <p> + A few minutes passed, then, with a final scratch and splutter Joseph flung + down his pen. With the sandbox tilted in the air, like a dicer about to + make his throw, he looked at the lad. + </p> + <p> + “You will spare neither whip nor spur until you arrive in London, Master + Kenneth. You must ride night and day; the matter is of the greatest + urgency.” + </p> + <p> + Kenneth nodded that he understood, and Joseph sprinkled the sand over the + written page. + </p> + <p> + “I know not when you should reach London so that you may be in time, but,” + he continued, and as he spoke he creased the paper and poured the + superfluous sand back into the box, “I should say that by midnight + to-morrow your message should be delivered. Aye,” he continued, in answer + to the lad's gasp of surprise, “it is hard riding, I know, but if you + would win Cynthia you must do it. Spare neither money nor horseflesh, and + keep to the saddle until you are in Thames Street.” + </p> + <p> + He folded the letter, sealed it, and wrote the superscription: “This to + Colonel Pride, at the sign of the Anchor in Thames Street.” + </p> + <p> + He rose and handed the package to Kenneth, to whom the superscription + meant nothing, since he had not seen that borne by the letter which + Crispin had received. + </p> + <p> + “You will deliver this intact, and with your own hands, to Colonel Pride + in person—none other. Should he be absent from Thames Street upon + your arrival, seek him out instantly, wherever he may be, and give him + this. Upon your faithful observance of these conditions remember that your + future depends. If you are in time, as indeed I trust and think you will + be, you may account yourself Cynthia's husband. Fail and—well, you + need not return here.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall not fail, sir,” cried Kenneth. “What man can do to accomplish the + journey within twenty-four hours, I will do.” + </p> + <p> + He would have stopped to thank Joseph for the signal favour of this chance + of rehabilitation, but Joseph cut him short. + </p> + <p> + “Take this purse,” he cried impatiently. “You will find a horse ready + saddled in the stables. Ride it hard. It will bear you to Norton at least. + There get you a fresh one, and when that is done, another. Now be off.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX. THE INTERRUPTED JOURNEY + </h2> + <p> + When the Tavern Knight left the gates of Marleigh Park behind him on that + wild October night, he drove deep the rowels of his spurs, and set his + horse at a perilous gallop along the road to Norwich. The action was of + instinct rather than of thought. In the turbulent sea of his mind, one + clear current there was, and one only—the knowledge that he was + bound for London for news of this son of his whom Joseph told him lived. + He paused not even to speculate what manner of man his child was grown, + nor yet what walk of life he had been reared to tread. He lived: he was + somewhere in the world; that for the time sufficed him. The Ashburns had + not, it seemed, destroyed quite everything that made his life worth + enduring—the life that so often and so wantonly he had exposed. + </p> + <p> + His son lived, and in London he should have news of him. To London then + must he get himself with all dispatch, and he swore to take no rest until + he reached it. And with that firm resolve to urge him, he ploughed his + horse's flanks, and sped on through the night. The rain beat in his face, + yet he scarce remarked it, as again more by instinct than by reason—he + buried his face to the eyes in the folds of his cloak. + </p> + <p> + Later the rain ceased, and clearer grew the line of light betwixt the + hedgerows, by which his horse had steered its desperate career. Fitfully a + crescent moon peered out from among the wind-driven clouds. The poor + ruffler was fallen into meditation, and noted not that his nag did no more + than amble. He roused himself of a sudden when half-way down a gentle + slope some five miles from Norwich, and out of temper at discovering the + sluggishness of the pace, he again gave the horse a taste of the spurs. + The action was fatal. The incline was become a bed of sodden clay, and he + had not noticed with what misgivings his horse pursued the treacherous + footing. The sting of the spur made the animal bound forward, and the next + instant a raucous oath broke from Crispin as the nag floundered and + dropped on its knees. Like a stone from a catapult Galliard flew over its + head and rolled down the few remaining yards of the slope into a very lake + of slimy water at the bottom. + </p> + <p> + Down this same hill, some twenty minutes later, came Kenneth Stewart with + infinite precaution. He was in haste—a haste more desperate far than + even Crispin's. But his character held none of Galliard's recklessness, + nor were his wits fogged by such news as Crispin had heard that night. He + realized that to be swift he must be cautious in his night-riding. And so, + carefully he came, with a firm hand on the reins, yet leaving it to his + horse to find safe footing. + </p> + <p> + He had reached the level ground in safety, and was about to put his nag to + a smarter pace, when of a sudden from the darkness of the hedge he was + hailed by a harsh, metallic voice, the sound of which sent a tremor + through him. + </p> + <p> + “Sir, you are choicely met, whoever you may be. I have suffered a + mischance down that cursed hill, and my horse has gone lame.” + </p> + <p> + Kenneth kept his cloak over his mouth, trusting that the muffling would + sufficiently disguise his accents as he made answer. + </p> + <p> + “I am in haste, my master. What is your will?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, marry, so am I in haste. My will is your horse, sir. Oh, I'm no + robber. I'll pay you for it, and handsomely. But have it I must. 'Twill be + no great discomfort for you to walk to Norwich. You may do it in an hour.” + </p> + <p> + “My horse, sir, is not for sale,” was Kenneth's brief answer. “Give you + good night.” + </p> + <p> + “Hold, man! Blood and hell, stop! If you'll not sell the worthless beast + to serve a gentleman, I'll shoot it under you. Make your choice.” + </p> + <p> + Kenneth caught the gleam of a pistol-barrel pointed at him from the hedge, + and he shivered. What was he to do? Every instant was precious to him. As + in a flash it came to him that perchance Sir Crispin also rode to London, + and that it was expected of him to arrive there first if he were to be in + time. Swiftly he weighed the odds in his mind, and took the determination + to dash past Sir Crispin, risking his aim and trusting to the dark to + befriend him. + </p> + <p> + But even as he determined thus, what moon there was became unveiled, and + the light of it fell upon his face, which was turned towards Galliard. An + exclamation of surprise escaped Sir Crispin. + </p> + <p> + “'Slife, Master Stewart, I knew not your voice. Whither do you ride?” + </p> + <p> + “What is it to you? Have you not wrought enough of evil for me? Am I never + to be rid of you? Castle Marleigh,” he added, with well-feigned anger, + “has closed its doors upon me. What does it signify to you whither I ride? + Suffer me leastways to pass unmolested, and to leave you.” + </p> + <p> + Kenneth's passionate reproaches cut Galliard keenly. He held himself at + that moment a very knave for having dragged this boy into his work of + vengeance, and thereby cast a blight upon his life. He sought for words + wherein to give expression to something of what he felt, then realizing + how futile and effete all words must prove, he waved his hand in the + direction of the road. + </p> + <p> + “Go, Master Stewart,” he muttered. “Your way is clear.” + </p> + <p> + And Kenneth, waiting for no second invitation, rode on and left him. He + rode with gratitude in his heart to the Providence that had caused him so + easily to overcome an obstacle that at first he had held impassable. + Stronger grew in his mind the conviction that to fulfil the mission Joseph + required of him, he must reach London before Sir Crispin. The knowledge + that he was ahead of him, and that he must derive an ample start from + Galliard's mishap, warmed him like wine. + </p> + <p> + His mind thus relieved from its weight of anxiety, he little recked + fatigue, and such excellent use did he make of his horse that he reached + Newmarket on it an hour before the morrow's moon. + </p> + <p> + An hour he rested there, and broke his fast. Then on a fresh horse—a + powerful and willing animal he set out once more. + </p> + <p> + By half-past two he was at Newport. But so hard had he ridden that man and + beast alike were in a lather of sweat, and whilst he himself felt sick and + tired, the horse was utterly unfit to bear him farther. For half an hour + he rested there, and made a meal whose chief constituent was brandy. Then + on a third horse he started upon the last stage of his journey. + </p> + <p> + The wind was damp and penetrating; the roads veritable morasses of mud, + and overhead gloomy banks of dark, grey clouds moved sluggishly, the light + that was filtered through them giving the landscape a bleak and dreary + aspect. In his jaded condition Kenneth soon became a prey to the + depression of it. His lightness of heart of some dozen hours ago was now + all gone, and not even the knowledge that his mission was well-nigh + accomplished sufficed to cheer him. To add to his discomfort a fine rain + set in towards four o'clock, and when a couple of hours later he clattered + along the road cut through a wooded slope in the direction of Waltham, he + was become a very limp and lifeless individual. + </p> + <p> + He noticed not the horsemen moving cautiously among the closely-set trees + on either side of the road. It was growing prematurely dark, and objects + were none too distinct. And thus it befell that when from the reverie of + dejection into which he had fallen he was suddenly aroused by the thud of + hoofs, he looked up to find two mounted men barring the road some ten + yards in front of him. Their attitude was unmistakable, and it crossed + poor Kenneth's mind that he was beset by robbers. But a second glance + showed him their red cloaks and military steel caps, and he knew them for + soldiers of the Commonwealth. + </p> + <p> + Hearing the beat of hoofs behind him, he looked over his shoulder to see + four other troopers closing rapidly down upon him. Clearly he was the + object of their attention. He had been a fool not to have perceived this + earlier, and his heart misgave him, for all that had he paused to think he + must have realized that he had naught to fear, and that in this some + mistake must lie. + </p> + <p> + “Halt!” thundered the deep voice of the sergeant, who, with a trooper, + held the road in front. + </p> + <p> + Kenneth drew up within a yard of them, conscious that the man's dark eyes + were scanning him sharply from beneath his morion. + </p> + <p> + “Who are you, sir?” the bass voice demanded. + </p> + <p> + Alas for the vanity of poor human mites! Even Kenneth, who never yet had + achieved aught for the cause he served, grew of a sudden chill to think + that perchance this sergeant might recognize his name for one that he had + heard before associated with deeds performed on the King's behalf. + </p> + <p> + For a second he hesitated; then: + </p> + <p> + “Blount,” he stammered, “Jasper Blount.” + </p> + <p> + He little thought how that fruit of his vanity was to prove his undoing + thereafter. + </p> + <p> + “Verily,” sneered the sergeant, “it almost seemed you had forgotten it.” + And from that sneer Kenneth gathered with fresh dread that the fellow + mistrusted him. + </p> + <p> + “Whence are you, Master Blount?” + </p> + <p> + Again Kenneth hesitated. Then recalling Ashburn's high favour with the + Parliament, and seeing that it could but advance his cause to state the + true sum of his journey: + </p> + <p> + “From Castle Marleigh,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “Verily, sir, you seem yet in some doubt. Whither do you go?” + </p> + <p> + “To London.” + </p> + <p> + “On what errand?” The sergeant's questions fell swift as sword-strokes. + </p> + <p> + “With letters for Colonel Pride.” + </p> + <p> + The reply, delivered more boldly than Kenneth had spoken hitherto, was not + without its effect. + </p> + <p> + “From whom are these letters?” + </p> + <p> + “From Mr. Joseph Ashburn, of Castle Marleigh.” + </p> + <p> + “Produce them.” + </p> + <p> + With trembling fingers Kenneth complied. This the sergeant observed as he + took the package. + </p> + <p> + “What ails you, man?” quoth he. + </p> + <p> + “Naught, sir 'tis the cold.” + </p> + <p> + The sergeant scanned the package and its seal. In a measure it was a + passport, and he was forced to the conclusion that this man was indeed the + messenger he represented himself. Certainly he had not the air nor the + bearing of him for whom they waited, nor did the sergeant think that their + quarry would have armed himself with a dummy package against such a + strait. And yet the sergeant was not master after all, and did he let this + fellow pursue his journey, he might reap trouble for it hereafter; whilst + likewise if he detained him, Colonel Pride, he knew, was not an + over-patient man. He was still debating what course to take, and had + turned to his companion with the muttered question: “What think you, + Peter?” when by his precipitancy Kenneth ruined his slender chance of + being permitted to depart. + </p> + <p> + “I pray you, sir, now that you know my errand, suffer me to pass on.” + </p> + <p> + There was an eager tremor in his voice that the sergeant mistook for fear. + He noted it, and remembering the boy's hesitancy in answering his earlier + questions, he decided upon his course of action. + </p> + <p> + “We shall not delay your journey, sir,” he answered, eyeing Kenneth + sharply, “and as your way must lie through Waltham, I will but ask you to + suffer us to ride with you thus far, so that there you may answer any + questions our captain may have to ask ere you proceed.” + </p> + <p> + “But, sir—” + </p> + <p> + “No more, master courier,” snarled the sergeant. Then, beckoning a trooper + to his side, he whispered an order in his ear. + </p> + <p> + As the man withdrew they wheeled their horses, and at a sharp word of + command Kenneth rode on towards Waltham between the sergeant and a + trooper. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX. THE CONVERTED HOGAN + </h2> + <p> + Night black and impenetrable had set in ere Kenneth and his escort + clattered over the greasy stones of Waltham's High Street, and drew up in + front of the Crusader Inn. + </p> + <p> + The door stood wide and hospitable, and a warm shaft of light fell from it + and set a glitter upon the wet street. Avoiding the common-room, the + sergeant led Kenneth through the inn-yard, and into the hostelry by a side + entrance. He urged the youth along a dimly-lighted passage. On a door at + the end of this he knocked, then, lifting the latch, he ushered Kenneth + into a roomy, oak-panelled chamber. + </p> + <p> + At the far end a huge fire burnt cheerfully, and with his back to it, his + feet planted wide apart upon the hearth, stood a powerfully built man of + medium height, whose youthful face and uprightness of carriage assorted + ill with the grey of his hair, pronouncing that greyness premature. He + seemed all clad in leather, for where his jerkin stopped his boots began. + A cuirass and feathered headpiece lay in a corner, whilst on the table + Kenneth espied a broad-brimmed hat, a huge sword, and a brace of pistols. + </p> + <p> + As the boy's eyes came back to the burly figure on the hearth, he was + puzzled by a familiar, intangible something in the fellow's face. + </p> + <p> + He was racking his mind to recall where last he had seen it, when with + slightly elevated eyebrows and a look of recognition in his somewhat + prominent blue eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Soul of my body,” exclaimed the man in surprise, “Master Stewart, as I + live.” + </p> + <p> + “Stuart!” cried both sergeant and trooper in a gasp, starting forward to + scan their prisoner's face. + </p> + <p> + At that the burly captain broke into a laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Not the young man Charles Stuart,” said he; “no, no. Your captive is none + so precious. It is only Master Kenneth Stewart, of Bailienochy.” + </p> + <p> + “Then it is not even our man,” grumbled the soldier. + </p> + <p> + “But Stewart is not the name he gave,” cried the sergeant. “Jasper Blount + he told me he was called. It seems that after all we have captured a + malignant, and that I was well advised to bring him to you.” + </p> + <p> + The captain made a gesture of disdain. In that moment Kenneth recognized + him. He was Harry Hogan—the man whose life Galliard had saved in + Penrith. + </p> + <p> + “Bah, a worthless capture, Beddoes,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I know not that,” retorted the sergeant. “He carries papers which he + states are from Joseph Ashburn, of Castle Marleigh, to Colonel Pride. + Colonel Pride's name is on the package, but may not that be a subterfuge? + Why else did he say he was called Blount?” + </p> + <p> + Hogan's brows were of a sudden knit. + </p> + <p> + “Faith, Beddoes, you are right. Remove his sword and search him.” + </p> + <p> + Calmly Kenneth suffered them to carry out this order. Inwardly he boiled + at the delay, and cursed himself for having so needlessly given the name + of Blount. But for that, it was likely Hogan would have straightway + dismissed him. He cheered himself with the thought that after all they + would not long detain him. Their search made, and finding nothing upon him + but Ashburn's letter, surely they would release him. + </p> + <p> + But their search was very thorough. They drew off his boots, and well-nigh + stripped him naked, submitting each article of his apparel to a careful + examination. At length it was over, and Hogan held Ashburn's package, + turning it over in his hands with a thoughtful expression. + </p> + <p> + “Surely, sir, you will now allow me to proceed,” cried Kenneth. “I assure + you the matter is of the greatest urgency, and unless I am in London by + midnight I shall be too late.” + </p> + <p> + “Too late for what?” asked Hogan. + </p> + <p> + “I—I don't know.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh?” The Irishman laughed unpleasantly. Colonel Pride and he were on + anything but the best of terms. The colonel knew him for a godless soldier + of fortune bound to the Parliament's cause by no interest beyond that of + gain; and, himself a zealot, Colonel Pride had with distasteful frequency + shown Hogan the quality of his feelings towards him. That Hogan was not + afraid of him, was because it was not in Hogan's nature to be afraid of + anyone. But he realized at least that he had cause to be, and at the + present moment it occurred to him that it would be passing sweet to find a + flaw in the old Puritan's armour. If the package were harmless his having + opened it was still a matter that the discharge of his duty would + sanction. Thus he reasoned; and he resolved to break the seal and make + himself master of the contents of that letter. + </p> + <p> + Hogan's unpleasant laugh startled Kenneth. It suggested to him that + perhaps, after all, his delay was by no means at an end; that Hogan + suspected him of something—he could not think of what. + </p> + <p> + Then in a flash an idea came to him. + </p> + <p> + “May I speak to you privately for a moment, Captain Hogan?” he inquired in + such a tone of importance—imperiousness, almost—that the + Irishman was impressed by it. He scented disclosure. + </p> + <p> + “Faith, you may if you have aught to tell me,” and he signed to Beddoes + and his companion to withdraw. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Master Hogan,” Kenneth began resolutely as soon as they were alone, + “I ask you to let me go my way unmolested. Too long already has the + stupidity of your followers detained me here unjustly. That I reach London + by midnight is to me a matter of the gravest moment, and you shall let + me.” + </p> + <p> + “Soul of my body, Mr. Stewart, what a spirit you have acquired since last + we met.” + </p> + <p> + “In your place I should leave our last meeting unmentioned, master + turncoat.” + </p> + <p> + The Irishman's eyebrows shot up. + </p> + <p> + “By the Mass, young cockerel, I mislike your tone—” + </p> + <p> + “You'll have cause to dislike it more if you detain me.” He was desperate + now. “What would your saintly, crop-eared friends say if they knew as much + of your past history as I do?” + </p> + <p> + “Tis a matter for conjecture,” said Hogan, humouring him. + </p> + <p> + “How think you would they welcome the story of the roystering rake and + debauchee who deserted the army of King Charles because they were about to + hang him for murder?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! how, indeed?” sighed Hogan. + </p> + <p> + “What manner of reputation, think you, that for a captain of the godly + army of the Commonwealth?” + </p> + <p> + “A vile one, truly,” murmured Hogan with humility. + </p> + <p> + “And now, Mr. Hogan,” he wound up loftily, “you had best return me that + package, and be rid of me before I sow mischief enough to bring you a crop + of hemp.” + </p> + <p> + Hogan stared at the lad's flushed face with a look of whimsical + astonishment, and for a brief spell there was silence between them. Slowly + then, with his eyes still fixed upon Kenneth's, the captain unsheathed a + dagger. The boy drew back, with a sudden cry of alarm. Hogan vented a + horse-laugh, and ran the blade under the seal of Ashburn's letter. + </p> + <p> + “Be not afraid, my man of threats,” he said pleasantly. “I have no thought + of hurting you—leastways, not yet.” He paused in the act of breaking + the seal. “Lest you should treasure uncomfortable delusions, dear Master + Stewart, let me remind you that I am an Irishman—not a fool. Do you + conceive my fame to be so narrow a thing that when I left the beggarly + army of King Charles for that of the Commonwealth, I did not realize how + at any moment I might come face to face with someone who had heard of my + old exploits, and would denounce me? You do not find me masquerading under + an assumed name. I am here, sir, as Harry Hogan, a sometime dissolute + follower of the Egyptian Pharaoh, Charles Stuart; an erstwhile besotted, + blinded soldier in the army of the Amalekite, a whilom erring malignant, + but converted by a crowning mercy into a zealous, faithful servant of + Israel. There were vouchsafings and upliftings, and the devil knows what + else, when this stray lamb was gathered to the fold.” + </p> + <p> + He uttered the words with a nasal intonation, and a whimsical look at + Kenneth. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Mr. Stewart, tell them what you will, and they will tell you yet + more in return, to show you how signally the light of grace hath been shed + over me.” + </p> + <p> + He laughed again, and broke the seal. Kenneth, crestfallen and abashed, + watched him, without attempting further interference. Of what avail? + </p> + <p> + “You had been better advised, young sir, had you been less hasty and + anxious. It is a fatal fault of youth's, and one of which nothing but time—if, + indeed, you live—will cure you. Your anxiety touching this package + determines me to open it.” + </p> + <p> + Kenneth sneered at the man's conclusions, and, shrugging his shoulders, + turned slightly aside. + </p> + <p> + “Perchance, master wiseacres, when you have read it, you will appreciate + how egotism may also lead men into fatal errors. Haply, too, you will be + able to afford Colonel Pride some satisfactory reason for tampering with + his correspondence.” + </p> + <p> + But Hogan heard him not. He had unfolded the letter, and at the first + words he beheld, a frown contracted his brows. As he read on the frown + deepened, and when he had done, an oath broke from his lips. “God's life!” + he cried, then again was silent, and so stood a moment with bent head. At + last he raised his eyes, and let them rest long and searchingly upon + Kenneth, who now observed him in alarm. + </p> + <p> + “What—what is it?” the lad asked, with hesitancy. + </p> + <p> + But Hogan never answered. He strode past him to the door, and flung it + wide. + </p> + <p> + “Beddoes!” he called. A step sounded in the passage, and the sergeant + appeared. “Have you a trooper there?” + </p> + <p> + “There is Peter, who rode with me.” + </p> + <p> + “Let him look to this fellow. Tell him to set him under lock and bolt here + in the inn until I shall want him, and tell him that he shall answer for + him with his neck.” + </p> + <p> + Kenneth drew back in alarm. + </p> + <p> + “Sir—Captain Hogan—will you explain?” + </p> + <p> + “Marry, you shall have explanations to spare before morning, else I'm a + fool. But have no fear, for we intend you no hurt,” he added more softly. + “Take him away, Beddoes; then return to me here.” + </p> + <p> + When Beddoes came back from consigning Kenneth into the hands of his + trooper, he found Hogan seated in the leathern arm-chair, with Ashburn's + letter spread before him on the table. + </p> + <p> + “I was right in my suspicions, eh?” ventured Beddoes complacently. + </p> + <p> + “You were more than right, Beddoes, you were Heaven-inspired. It is no + State matter that you have chanced upon, but one that touches a man in + whom I am interested very nearly.” + </p> + <p> + The sergeant's eyes were full of questions, but Hogan enlightened him no + further. + </p> + <p> + “You will ride back to your post at once, Beddoes,” he commanded. “Should + Lord Oriel fall into your hands, as we hope, you will send him to me. But + you will continue to patrol the road, and demand the business of all + comers. I wish one Crispin Galliard, who should pass this way ere long, + detained, and brought to me. He is a tall, lank man—” + </p> + <p> + “I know him, sir,” Beddoes interrupted. “The Tavern Knight they called him + in the malignant army—a rakehelly, dissolute brawler. I saw him in + Worcester when he was taken after the fight.” + </p> + <p> + Hogan frowned. The righteous Beddoes knew overmuch. “That is the man,” he + answered calmly. “Go now, and see that he does not ride past you. I have + great and urgent need of him.” + </p> + <p> + Beddoes' eyes were opened in surprise. + </p> + <p> + “He is possessed of valuable information,” Hogan explained. “Away with + you, man.” + </p> + <p> + When alone, Harry Hogan turned his arm-chair sideways towards the fire. + Then, filling himself a pipe—for in his foreign campaigning he had + acquired the habit of tobacco-smoking—he stretched his sinewy legs + across a second chair, and composed himself for meditation. An hour went + by; the host looked in to see if the captain required anything. Another + hour sped on, and the captain dozed. + </p> + <p> + He awoke with a start. The fire had burned low, and the hands of the huge + clock in the corner pointed to midnight. From the passage came to him the + sound of steps and angry voices. + </p> + <p> + Before Hogan could rise, the door was flung wide, and a tall, gaunt man + was hustled across the threshold by two soldiers. His head was bare, and + his hair wet and dishevelled. His doublet was torn and his shoulder + bleeding, whilst his empty scabbard hung like a lambent tail behind him. + </p> + <p> + “We have brought him, captain,” one of the men announced. + </p> + <p> + “Aye, you crop-eared, psalm-whining cuckolds, you've brought me, d—n + you,” growled Sir Crispin, whose eyes rolled fiercely. + </p> + <p> + As his angry glance lighted upon Hogan's impressive face, he abruptly + stemmed the flow of invective that rushed to his lips. + </p> + <p> + The Irishman rose, and looked past him at the troopers. “Leave us,” he + commanded shortly. + </p> + <p> + He remained standing by the hearth until the footsteps of his men had died + away, then he crossed the chamber, passed Crispin without a word, and + quietly locked the door. That done, he turned a friendly smile on his + tanned face—and holding out his hand: + </p> + <p> + “At last, Cris, it is mine to thank you and to repay you in some measure + for the service you rendered me that night at Penrith.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI. THE MESSAGE KENNETH BORE + </h2> + <p> + In bewilderment Crispin took the outstretched hand of his old + fellow-roysterer. + </p> + <p> + “Oddslife,” he growled, “if to have me waylaid, dragged from my horse and + wounded by those sons of dogs, your myrmidons, be your manner of + expressing gratitude, I'd as lief you had let me go unthanked.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet, Cris, I dare swear you'll thank me before another hour is sped. + Ough, man, how cold you are! There's a bottle of strong waters yonder—” + </p> + <p> + Then, without completing his sentence, Hogan had seized the black jack and + poured half a glass of its contents, which he handed Crispin. + </p> + <p> + “Drink, man,” he said briefly, and Crispin, nothing loath, obeyed him. + </p> + <p> + Next Hogan drew the torn and sodden doublet from his guest's back, pushed + a chair over to the table, and bade him sit. Again, nothing loath, Crispin + did as he was bidden. He was stiff from long riding, and so with a sigh of + satisfaction he settled himself down and stretched out his long legs. + </p> + <p> + Hogan slowly took the seat opposite to him, and coughed. He was at a loss + how to open the parlous subject, how to communicate to Crispin the amazing + news upon which he had stumbled. + </p> + <p> + “Slife' Hogan,” laughed Crispin dreamily, “I little thought it was to you + those crop-ears carried me with such violence. I little thought, indeed, + ever to see you again. But you have prospered, you knave, since that night + you left Penrith.” + </p> + <p> + And he turned his head the better to survey the Irishman. + </p> + <p> + “Aye, I have prospered,” Hogan assented. “My life is a sort of parable of + the fatted son and the prodigal calf. They tell me there is greater joy in + heaven over the repentance of a sinner than—than—Plague on it! + How does it go?” + </p> + <p> + “Than over the downfall of a saint?” suggested Crispin. + </p> + <p> + “I'll swear that's not the text, but any of my troopers could quote it + you; every man of them is an incarnate Church militant.” He paused, and + Crispin laughed softly. Then abruptly: “And so you were riding to London?” + said he. + </p> + <p> + “How know you that?” + </p> + <p> + “Faith, I know more—much more. I can even tell you to what house you + rode, and on what errand. You were for the sign of the Anchor in Thames + Street, for news of your son, whom Joseph Ashburn hath told you lives.” + </p> + <p> + Crispin sat bolt upright, a look of mingled wonder and suspicion on his + face. + </p> + <p> + “You are well informed, you gentlemen of the Parliament,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “On the matter of your errand,” the Irishman returned quietly, “I am much + better informed than are you. Shall I tell you who lives at the sign of + the Anchor—not whom you have been told lives there, but who really + does occupy the house?” Hogan paused a second as though awaiting some + reply; then softly he answered his own question: “Colonel Pride.” And he + sat back to await results. + </p> + <p> + There were none. For the moment the name awoke no recollections, conveyed + no meaning to Crispin. + </p> + <p> + “Who may Colonel Pride be?” he asked, after a pause. + </p> + <p> + Hogan was visibly disappointed. + </p> + <p> + “A certain powerful and vindictive member of the Rump, whose son you + killed at Worcester.” + </p> + <p> + This time the shaft went home. Galliard sprang out of the chair, his brows + darkening, and his cheeks pale beyond their wont. + </p> + <p> + “Zounds, Hogan, do you mean that Joseph Ashburn was betraying me into this + man's hands?” + </p> + <p> + “You have said it.” + </p> + <p> + “But—” + </p> + <p> + Crispin stopped short. The pallor of his face increased; it became ashen, + and his eyes glittered as though a fever consumed him. He sank back into + his chair, and setting both hands upon the table before him, he looked + straight at Hogan. + </p> + <p> + “But my son, Hogan, my son?” he pleaded, and his voice was broken as no + man had heard it yet. “Oh, God in heaven!” he cried in a sudden frenzy. + “What hell's work is this?” + </p> + <p> + Behind his blue lips his teeth were chattering now. His hands shook as he + held them, still clenched, before him. Then, in a dull, concentrated + voice: + </p> + <p> + “Hogan,” he vowed, “I'll kill him for it. Fool, blind, pitiful fool that I + am.” + </p> + <p> + Then—his face distorted by passion—he broke into a torrent of + imprecations that was at length stemmed by Hogan. + </p> + <p> + “Wait, Cris,” said he, laying his hand upon the other's arm. “It is not + all false. Joseph Ashburn sought, it is true, to betray you into the hands + of Colonel Pride, sending you to the sign of the Anchor with the assurance + that there you should have news of your son. That was false; yet not all + false. Your son does live, and at the sign of the Anchor it is likely you + would have had the news of him you sought. But that news would have come + when too late to have been of value to you.” + </p> + <p> + Crispin tried to speak, but failed. Then, mastering himself by an effort, + and in a voice that was oddly shaken: + </p> + <p> + “Hogan,” he cried, “you are torturing me! What is the sum of your + knowledge?” + </p> + <p> + At last the Irishman produced Ashburn's letter to Colonel Pride. + </p> + <p> + “My men,” said he, “are patrolling the roads in wait for a malignant that + has incurred the Parliament's displeasure. We have news that he is making + for Harwich, where a vessel lies waiting to carry him to France, and we + expect that he will ride this way. Three hours ago a young man unable + clearly to account for himself rode into our net, and was brought to me. + He was the bearer of a letter to Colonel Pride from Joseph Ashburn. He had + given my sergeant a wrong name, and betrayed such anxiety to be gone that + I deemed his errand a suspicious one, and broke the seal of that letter. + You may thank God, Galliard, every night of your life that I did so.” + </p> + <p> + “Was this youth Kenneth Stewart?” asked Crispin. + </p> + <p> + “You have guessed it.” + </p> + <p> + “D—n the lad,” he began furiously. Then repressing himself, he + sighed, and in an altered tone, “No, no,” said he. “I have grievously + wronged him! have wrecked his life—or at least he thinks so now. I + can hardly blame him for seeking to be quits with me.” + </p> + <p> + “The lad,” returned Hogan, “must be himself a dupe. He can have had no + suspicion of the message he carried. Let me read it to you; it will make + all clear.” + </p> + <p> + Hogan drew a taper nearer, and spreading the paper upon the table, he + smoothed it out, and read: + </p> + <p> + HONOURED SIR, + </p> + <p> + The bearer of the present should, if he rides well, outstrip another + messenger I have dispatched to you upon a fool's errand, with a letter + addressed to one Mr. Lane at the sign of the Anchor. The bearer of that is + none other than the notorious malignant, Sir Crispin Galliard, by whose + hand your son was slain under your very eyes at Worcester, whose capture I + know that you warmly desire and with whom I doubt not you will know how to + deal. To us he has been a source of no little molestation; his liberty, in + fact, is a perpetual menace to our lives. For some eighteen years this + Galliard has believed dead a son that my cousin bore him. News of this + son, whom I have just informed him lives—as indeed he does—is + the bait wherewith I have lured him to your address. Forewarned by the + present, I make no doubt you will prepare to receive him fittingly. But + ere that justice he escaped at Worcester be meted out to him at Tyburn or + on Tower Hill, I would have you give him that news touching his son which + I am sending him to you to receive. Inform him, sir, that his son, Jocelyn + Marleigh... + </p> + <p> + Hogan paused, and shot a furtive glance at Galliard. The knight was + leaning forward now, his eyes strained, his forehead beaded with + perspiration, and his breathing heavy. + </p> + <p> + “Read on,” he begged hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + His son, Jocelyn Marleigh, is the bearer of this letter, the man whom he + has injured and who detests him, the youth with whom he has, by a curious + chance, been in much close association, and whom he has known as Kenneth + Stewart. + </p> + <p> + “God!” gasped Crispin. Then with sudden vigour, “Oh, 'tis a lie,” he + cried, “a fresh invention of that lying brain to torture me.” + </p> + <p> + Hogan held up his hand. + </p> + <p> + “There is a little more,” he said, and continued: + </p> + <p> + Should he doubt this, bid him look closely into the lad's face, and ask + him, after he has scrutinized it, what image it evokes. Should he still + doubt thereafter, thinking the likeness to which he has been singularly + blind to be no more than accidental, bid them strip the lad's right foot. + It bears a mark that I think should convince him. For the rest, honoured + sir, I beg you to keep all information touching his parentage from the boy + himself, wherein I have weighty ends to serve. Within a few days of your + receipt of this letter, I look to have the honour of waiting upon you. In + the meanwhile, honoured sir, believe that while I am, I am your obedient + servant, + </p> + <p> + JOSEPH ASHBURN + </p> + <p> + Across the narrow table the two men's glances met—Hogan's full of + concern and pity, Crispin's charged with amazement and horror. A little + while they sat thus, then Crispin rose slowly to his feet, and with steps + uncertain as a drunkard's he crossed to the window. He pushed it open, and + let the icy wind upon his face and head, unconscious of its sting. Moments + passed, during which the knight went over the last few months of his + turbulent life since his first meeting at Perth with Kenneth Stewart. He + recalled how strangely and unaccountably he had been drawn to the boy when + first he beheld him in the castle yard, and how, owing to a feeling for + which he could not account, since the lad's character had little that + might commend him to such a man as Crispin, he had contrived that Kenneth + should serve in his company. + </p> + <p> + He recalled how at first—aye, and often afterwards even—he had + sought to win the boy's affection, despite the fact that there was naught + in the boy that he truly admired, and much that he despised. Was it + possible that these his feelings were dictated by Nature to his + unconscious mind? It must indeed be so, and the written words of Joseph + Ashburn to Colonel Pride were true. Kenneth was indeed his son; the + conviction was upon him. He conjured up the lad's face, and a cry of + discovery escaped him. How blind he had been not to have seen before the + likeness of Alice—his poor, butchered girl-wife of eighteen years + ago. How dull never before to have realized that that likeness it was had + drawn him to the boy. + </p> + <p> + He was calm by now, and in his calm he sought to analyse his thoughts, and + he was shocked to find that they were not joyous. He yearned—as he + had yearned that night in Worcester—for the lad's affection, and + yet, for all his yearning, he realized that with the conviction that + Kenneth was his offspring came a dull sense of disappointment. He was not + such a son as the rakehelly knight would have had him. Swiftly he put the + thought from him. The craven hands that had reared the lad had warped his + nature; he would guide it henceforth; he would straighten it out into a + nobler shape. + </p> + <p> + Then he smiled bitterly to himself. What manner of man was he to train a + youth to loftiness and honour?—he, a debauched ruler with a nickname + for which, had he any sense of shame, he would have blushed! Again he + remembered the lad's disposition towards himself; but these, he thought, + he hoped, he knew that he would now be able to overcome. + </p> + <p> + He closed the window, and turned to face his companion. He was himself + again, and calm, for all that his face was haggard beyond its wont. + </p> + <p> + “Hogan, where is the boy?” + </p> + <p> + “I have detained him in the inn. Will you see him now?” + </p> + <p> + “At once, Hogan. I am convinced.” + </p> + <p> + The Irishman crossed the chamber, and opening the door he called an order + to the trooper waiting in the passage. + </p> + <p> + Some minutes they waited, standing, with no word uttered between them. At + last steps sounded in the corridor, and a moment later Kenneth was rudely + thrust into the room. Hogan signed to the trooper, who closed the door and + withdrew. + </p> + <p> + As Kenneth entered, Crispin advanced a step and paused, his eyes devouring + the lad and receiving in exchange a glance that was full of malevolence. + </p> + <p> + “I might have known, sir, that you were not far away,” he exclaimed + bitterly, forgetting for the moment how he had left Crispin behind him on + the previous night. “I might have guessed that my detention was your + work.” + </p> + <p> + “Why so?” asked Crispin quietly, his eyes ever scanning the lad's face + with a pathetic look. + </p> + <p> + “Because it is your way, I know not why, to work my ruin in all things. + Not satisfied with involving me in that business at Castle Marleigh, you + must needs cross my path again when I am about to make amends, and so + blight my last chance. My God, sir, am I never to be rid of you? What harm + have I done you?” + </p> + <p> + A spasm of pain, like a ripple over water, crossed the knight's swart + face. + </p> + <p> + “If you but consider, Kenneth,” he said, speaking very quietly, “you must + see the injustice of your words. Since when has Crispin Galliard served + the Parliament, that Roundhead troopers should do his bidding as you + suggest? And touching that business at Sheringham you are over-hard with + me. It was a compact you made, and but for which, you forget that you had + been carrion these three weeks.” + </p> + <p> + “Would to Heaven that I had been,” the boy burst out, “sooner than pay + such a price for keeping my life!” + </p> + <p> + “As for my presence here,” Crispin continued, leaving the outburst + unheeded, “it has naught to do with your detention.” + </p> + <p> + “You lie!” + </p> + <p> + Hogan caught his breath with a sharp hiss, and a dead silence followed. + That silence struck terror into Kenneth's heart. He encountered Crispin's + eye bent upon him with a look he could not fathom, and much would he now + have given to recall the two words that had burst from him in the heat of + his rage. He bethought him of the unscrupulous, deadly character + attributed to the man to whom he had addressed them, and in his coward's + fancy he saw already payment demanded. Already he pictured himself lying + cold and stark in the streets of Waltham with a sword-wound through his + middle. His face went grey and his lips trembled. + </p> + <p> + Then Galliard spoke at last, and the mildness of his tone filled Kenneth + with a new dread. In his experience of Crispin's ways he had come to look + upon mildness as the man's most dangerous phase: + </p> + <p> + “You are mistaken,” Crispin said. “I spoke the truth; it is a habit of + mine—haply the only gentlemanly habit left me. I repeat, I have had + naught to do with your detention. I arrived here half an hour ago, as the + captain will inform you, and I was conducted hither by force, having been + seized by his men, even as you were seized. No,” he added, with a sigh, + “it was not my hand that detained you; it was the hand of Fate.” Then + suddenly changing his voice to a more vehement key, “Know you on what + errand you rode to London?” he demanded. “To betray your father into the + hands of his enemies; to deliver him up to the hangman.” + </p> + <p> + Kenneth's eyes grew wide; his mouth fell open, and a frown of perplexity + drew his brows together. Dully, uncomprehendingly he met Sir Crispin's sad + gaze. + </p> + <p> + “My father,” he gasped at last. “'Sdeath, sir, what is it you mean? My + father has been dead these ten years. I scarce remember him.” + </p> + <p> + Crispin's lips moved, but no word did he utter. Then with a sudden gesture + of despair he turned to Hogan, who stood apart, a silent witness. + </p> + <p> + “My God, Hogan,” he cried. “How shall I tell him?” + </p> + <p> + In answer to the appeal, the Irishman turned to Kenneth. + </p> + <p> + “You have been in error, sir, touching your parentage,” quoth he bluntly. + “Alan Stewart, of Bailienochy, was not your father.” + </p> + <p> + Kenneth looked from one to the other of them. + </p> + <p> + “Sirs, is this a jest?” he cried, reddening. Then, remarking at length the + solemnity of their countenances, he stopped short. Crispin came close up + to him, and placed a hand upon his shoulder. The boy shrank visibly + beneath the touch, and again an expression of pain crossed the poor + ruffler's face. + </p> + <p> + “Do you recall, Kenneth,” he said slowly, almost sorrowfully, “the story + that I told you that night in Worcester, when we sat waiting for dawn and + the hangman?” + </p> + <p> + The lad nodded vacantly. + </p> + <p> + “Do you remember the details? Do you remember I told you how, when I + swooned beneath the stroke of Joseph Ashburn's sword, the last words I + heard were those in which he bade his brother slit the throat of the babe + in the cradle? You were, yourself, present yesternight at Castle Marleigh + when Joseph Ashburn told me Gregory had been mercifully inclined; that my + child had not died; that if I gave him his life he would restore him to + me. You remember?” + </p> + <p> + Again Kenneth nodded. A vague, numbing fear was creeping round his heart, + and his blood seemed chilled by it and stagnant. With fascinated eyes he + watched the knight's face—drawn and haggard. + </p> + <p> + “It was a trap that Joseph Ashburn set for me. Yet he did not altogether + lie. The child Gregory had indeed spared, and it seems from what I have + learned within the last half-hour that he had entrusted his rearing to + Alan Stewart, of Bailienochy, seeking afterwards—I take it—to + wed him to his daughter, so that should the King come to his own again, + they should have the protection of a Marleigh who had served his King.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean,” the lad almost whispered, and his accents were unmistakably of + horror, “you mean that I am your—Oh, God, I'll not believe it!” he + cried out, with such sudden loathing and passion that Crispin recoiled as + though he had been struck. A dull flush crept into his cheeks to fade upon + the instant and give place to a pallor, if possible, intenser than before. + </p> + <p> + “I'll not believe it! I'll not believe it!” the boy repeated, as if + seeking by that reiteration to shut out a conviction by which he was + beset. “I'll not believe it!” he cried again; and now his voice had lost + its passionate vehemence, and was sunk almost to a moan. + </p> + <p> + “I found it hard to believe myself,” was Crispin's answer, and his voice + was not free from bitterness. “But I have a proof here that seems + incontestable, even had I not the proof of your face to which I have been + blind these months. Blind with the eyes of my body, at least. The eyes of + my soul saw and recognized you when first they fell on you in Perth. The + voice of the blood ordered me then to your side, and though I heard its + call, I understood not what it meant. Read this letter, boy—the + letter that you were to have carried to Colonel Pride.” + </p> + <p> + With his eyes still fixed in a gaze of stupefaction upon Galliard's face, + Kenneth took the paper. Then slowly, involuntarily almost it seemed, he + dropped his glance to it, and read. He was long in reading, as though the + writing presented difficulties, and his two companions watched him the + while, and waited. At last he turned the paper over, and examined seal and + superscription as if suspicious that he held a forgery. + </p> + <p> + But in some subtle, mysterious way—that voice of the blood perchance + to which Crispin had alluded—he felt conviction stealing down upon + his soul. Mechanically he moved across to the table, and sat down. Without + a word, and still holding the crumpled letter in his clenched hand, he set + his elbows on the table, and, pressing his temples to his palms, he sat + there dumb. Within him a very volcano raged, and its fires were fed with + loathing—loathing for this man whom he had ever hated, yet never as + he hated him now, knowing him to be his father. It seemed as if to all the + wrongs which Crispin had done him during the months of their + acquaintanceship he had now added a fresh and culminating wrong by + discovering this parentage. + </p> + <p> + He sat and thought, and his soul grew sick. He probed for some flaw, + sought for some mistake that might have been made. And yet the more he + thought, the more he dwelt upon his youth in Scotland, the more convinced + was he that Crispin had told him the truth. Pre-eminent argument of + conviction to him was the desire of the Ashburns that he should marry + Cynthia. Oft he had marvelled that they, wealthy, and even powerful, + selfish and ambitious, should have selected him, the scion of an obscure + and impoverished Scottish house, as a bridegroom for their daughter. The + news now before him made their motives clear; indeed, no other motive + could exist, no other explanation could there be. He was the heir of + Castle Marleigh, and the usurpers sought to provide against the day when + another revolution might oust them and restore the rightful owners. + </p> + <p> + Some elation his shallow nature felt at realizing this, but that elation + was short-lived, and dashed by the thought that this ruler, this + debauchee, this drunken, swearing, roaring tavern knight was his father; + dashed by the knowledge that meanwhile the Parliament was master, and that + whilst matters stood so, the Ashburns could defy—could even destroy + him, did they learn how much he knew; dashed by the memory that Cynthia, + whom in his selfish way—out of his love for himself—he loved, + was lost to him for all time. + </p> + <p> + And here, swinging in a circle, his thoughts reverted to the cause of this—Crispin + Galliard, the man who had betrayed him into yesternight's foul business + and destroyed his every chance of happiness; the man whom he hated, and + whom, had he possessed the courage as he was possessed by the desire, he + had risen up and slain; the man that now announced himself his father. + </p> + <p> + And thinking thus, he sat on in silent, resentful vexation. He started to + feel a hand upon his shoulder, and to hear the voice of Galliard evidently + addressing him, yet using a name that was new to him. + </p> + <p> + “Jocelyn, my boy,” the voice trembled. “You have thought, and you have + realized—is it not so? I too thought, and thought brought me + conviction that what that paper tells is true.” + </p> + <p> + Vaguely then the boy remembered that Jocelyn was the name the letter gave + him. He rose abruptly, and brushed the caressing hand from his shoulder. + His voice was hard—possibly the knowledge that he had gained told + him that he had nothing to fear from this man, and in that assurance his + craven soul grew brave and bold and arrogant. + </p> + <p> + “I have realized naught beyond the fact that I owe you nothing but + unhappiness and ruin. By a trick, by a low fraud, you enlisted me into a + service that has proved my undoing. Once a cheat always a cheat. What + credit in the face of that can I give this paper?” he cried, talking + wildly. “To me it is incredible, nor do I wish to credit it, for though it + were true, what then? What then?” he repeated, raising his voice into + accents of defiance. + </p> + <p> + Grief and amazement were blended in Galliard's glance, and also, maybe, + some reproach. + </p> + <p> + Hogan, standing squarely upon the hearth, was beset by the desire to kick + Master Kenneth, or Master Jocelyn, into the street. His lip curled into a + sneer of ineffable contempt, for his shrewd eyes read to the bottom of the + lad's mean soul and saw there clearly writ the confidence that emboldened + him to voice that insult to the man he must know for his father. Standing + there, he compared the two, marvelling deeply how they came to be father + and son. A likeness he saw now between them, yet a likeness that seemed + but to mark the difference. The one harsh, resolute, and manly, for all + his reckless living and his misfortunes; the other mild, effeminate, + hypocritical and shifty. He read it not on their countenances alone, but + in every line of their figures as they stood, and in his heart he cursed + himself for having been the instrument to disclose the relationship in + which they stood. + </p> + <p> + The youth's insolent question was followed by a spell of silence. Crispin + could not believe that he had heard aright. At last he stretched out his + hands in a gesture of supplication—he who throughout his + thirty-eight years of life, and despite the misfortunes that had been his, + had never yet stooped to plead from any man. + </p> + <p> + “Jocelyn,” he cried, and the pain in his voice must have melted a heart of + steel, “you are hard. Have you forgotten the story of my miserable life, + the story that I told you in Worcester? Can you not understand how + suffering may destroy all that is lofty in a man; how the forgetfulness of + the winecup may come to be his only consolation; the hope of vengeance his + only motive for living on, withholding him from self-destruction? Can you + not picture such a life, and can you not pity and forgive much of the + wreck that it may make of a man once virtuous and honourable?” + </p> + <p> + Pleadingly he looked into the lad's face. It remained cold and unmoved. + </p> + <p> + “I understand,” he continued brokenly, “that I am not such a man as any + lad might welcome for a father. But you who know what my life has been, + Jocelyn, you can surely find it in your heart to pity. I had naught that + was good or wholesome to live for, Jocelyn; naught to curb the evil moods + that sent me along evil ways to seek forgetfulness and reparation. + </p> + <p> + “But from to-night, Jocelyn, my life in you must find a new interest, a + new motive. I will abandon my old ways. For your sake, Jocelyn, I will + seek again to become what I was, and you shall have no cause to blush for + your father.” + </p> + <p> + Still the lad stood silent. + </p> + <p> + “Jocelyn! My God, do I talk in vain?” cried the wretched man. “Have you no + heart, no pity, boy?” + </p> + <p> + At last the youth spoke. He was not moved. The agony of this strong man, + the broken pleading of one whom he had ever known arrogant and strong had + no power to touch his mean, selfish mind, consumed as it was by the + contemplation of his undoing—magnified a hundredfold—which + this man had wrought. + </p> + <p> + “You have ruined my life,” was all he said. + </p> + <p> + “I will rebuild it, Jocelyn,” cried Galliard eagerly. “I have friends in + France—friends high in power who lack neither the means nor the will + to aid me. You are a soldier, Jocelyn.” + </p> + <p> + “As much a soldier as I'm a saint,” sneered Hogan to himself. + </p> + <p> + “Together we will find service in the armies of Louis,” Crispin pursued. + “I promise it. Service wherein you shall gain honour and renown. There we + will abide until this England shakes herself out of her rebellious + nightmare. Then, when the King shall come to his own, Castle Marleigh will + be ours again. Trust in me, Jocelyn.” Again his arms went out appealingly: + “Jocelyn my son!” + </p> + <p> + But the boy made no move to take the outstretched hands, gave no sign of + relenting. His mind nurtured its resentment—cherished it indeed. + </p> + <p> + “And Cynthia?” he asked coldly. + </p> + <p> + Crispin's hands fell to his sides; they grew clenched, and his eyes + lighted of a sudden. + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me, Jocelyn. I had forgotten! I understand you now. Yes, I dealt + sorely with you there, and you are right to be resentful. What, after all, + am I to you what can I be to you compared with her whose image fills your + soul? What is aught in the world to a man, compared with the woman on whom + his heart is set? Do I not know it? Have I not suffered for it? + </p> + <p> + “But mark me, Jocelyn”—and he straightened himself suddenly—“even + in this, that which I have done I will undo. As I have robbed you of your + mistress, so will I win her back for you. I swear it. And when that is + done, when thus every harm I have caused you is repaired, then, Jocelyn, + perhaps you will come to look with less repugnance upon your father, and + to feel less resentment towards him.” + </p> + <p> + “You promise much, sir,” quoth the boy, with an illrepressed sneer. “How + will you accomplish it?” + </p> + <p> + Hogan grunted audibly. Crispin drew himself up, erect, lithe and supple—a + figure to inspire confidence in the most despairing. He placed a hand, + nervous, and strong as steel, upon the boy's shoulder, and the clutch of + his fingers made Jocelyn wince. + </p> + <p> + “Low though your father be fallen,” said he sternly, “he has never yet + broken his word. I have pledged you mine, and to-morrow I shall set out to + perform what I have promised. I shall see you ere I start. You will sleep + here, will you not?” + </p> + <p> + Jocelyn shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “It signifies little where I lie.” + </p> + <p> + Crispin smiled sadly, and sighed. + </p> + <p> + “You have no faith in me yet. But I shall earn it, or”—and his voice + fell suddenly—“or rid you of a loathsome parent. Hogan, can you find + him quarters?” + </p> + <p> + Hogan replied that there was the room he had already been confined in, and + that he could lie in it. And deeming that there was nothing to be gained + by waiting, he thereupon led the youth from the room and down the passage. + At the foot of the stairs the Irishman paused in the act of descending, + and raised the taper aloft so that its light might fall full upon the face + of his companion. + </p> + <p> + “Were I your father,” said he grimly, “I would kick you from one end of + Waltham to the other by way of teaching you filial piety! And were you not + his son, I would this night read you a lesson you'd never live to + practise. I would set you to sleep a last long sleep in the kennels of + Waltham streets. But since you are—marvellous though it seem—his + offspring, and since I love him and may not therefore hurt you, I must + rest content with telling you that you are the vilest thing that breathes. + You despise him for a roysterer, for a man of loose ways. Let me, who have + seen something of men, and who read you to-night to the very dregs of your + contemptible soul, tell you that compared with you he is a very god. Come, + you white-livered cur!” he ended abruptly. “I will light you to your + chamber.” + </p> + <p> + When presently Hogan returned to Crispin he found the Tavern Knight—that + man of iron in whom none had ever seen a trace of fear or weakness seated + with his arms before him on the table, and his face buried in them, + sobbing like a poor, weak woman. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII. SIR CRISPIN'S UNDERTAKING + </h2> + <p> + Through the long October night Crispin and Hogan sat on, and neither + sought his bed. Crispin's quick wits his burst of grief once over—had + been swift to fasten on a plan to accomplish that which he had undertaken. + </p> + <p> + One difficulty confronted him, and until he had mentioned it to Hogan + seemed unsurmountable he had need of a ship. But in this the Irishman + could assist him. He knew of a vessel then at Greenwich, whose master was + in his debt, which should suit the purpose. Money, however, would be + needed. But when Crispin announced that he was master of some two hundred + Caroluses, Hogan, with a wave of the hand, declared the matter settled. + Less than half that sum would hire the man he knew of. That determined, + Crispin unfolded his project to Hogan, who laughed at the simplicity of + it, for all that inwardly he cursed the risk Sir Crispin must run for the + sake of one so unworthy. + </p> + <p> + “If the maid loves him, the thing is as good as done.” + </p> + <p> + “The maid does not love him; leastways, I fear not.” + </p> + <p> + Hogan was not surprised. + </p> + <p> + “Why, then it will be difficult, well-nigh impossible.” And the Irishman + became grave. + </p> + <p> + But Crispin laughed unpleasantly. Years and misfortune had made him + cynical. + </p> + <p> + “What is the love of a maid?” quoth he derisively. “A caprice, a fancy, a + thing that may be guided, overcome or compelled as the occasion shall + demand. Opportunity is love's parent, Hogan, and given that, any maid may + love any man. Cynthia shall love my son.” + </p> + <p> + “But if she prove rebellious? If she say nay to your proposals? There are + such women.” + </p> + <p> + “How then? Am I not the stronger? In such a case it shall be mine to + compel her, and as I find her, so shall I carry her away. It will be none + so poor a vengeance on the Ashburns after all.” His brow grew clouded. + “But not what I had dreamed of; what I should have taken had he not + cheated me. To forgo it now—after all these years of waiting—is + another sacrifice I make to Jocelyn. To serve him in this matter I must + proceed cautiously. Cynthia may fret and fume and stamp, but willy-nilly I + shall carry her away. Once she is in France, friendless, alone, I make no + doubt that she will see the convenience of loving Jocelyn—leastways + of wedding him and thus shall I have more than repaired the injuries I + have done him.” + </p> + <p> + The Irishman's broad face was very grave; his reckless merry eye fixed + Galliard with a look of sorrow, and this grey-haired, sinning soldier of + fortune, who had never known a conscience, muttered softly: + </p> + <p> + “It is not a nice thing you contemplate, Cris.” + </p> + <p> + Despite himself, Galliard winced, and his glance fell before Hogan's. For + a moment he saw the business in its true light, and he wavered in his + purpose. Then, with a short bark of laughter: + </p> + <p> + “Gadso, you are sentimental, Harry!” said he, to add, more gravely: “There + is my son, and in this lies the only way to his heart.”. + </p> + <p> + Hogan stretched a hand across the table, and set it upon Crispin's arm. + </p> + <p> + “Is he worth such a stain upon your honour, Crispin?” + </p> + <p> + There was a pause. + </p> + <p> + “Is it not late in the day, Hogan, for you and me to prate of honour?” + asked Crispin bitterly, yet with averted gaze. “God knows my honour is as + like honour as a beggar's rags are like unto a cloak of ermine. What + signifies another splash, another rent in that which is tattered beyond + all semblance of its original condition?” + </p> + <p> + “I asked you,” the Irishman persisted, “whether your son was worth the + sacrifice that the vile deed you contemplate entails?” + </p> + <p> + Crispin shook his arm from the other's grip, and rose abruptly. He crossed + to the window, and drew back the curtain. + </p> + <p> + “Day is breaking,” said he gruffly. Then turning, and facing Hogan across + the room, “I have pledged my word to Jocelyn,” he said. “The way I have + chosen is the only one, and I shall follow it. But if your conscience + cries out against it, Hogan, I give you back your promise of assistance, + and I shall shift alone. I have done so all my life.” + </p> + <p> + Hogan shrugged his massive shoulders, and reached out for the bottle of + strong waters. + </p> + <p> + “If you are resolved, there is an end to it. My conscience shall not + trouble me, and upon what aid I have promised and what more I can give, + you may depend. I drink to the success of your undertaking.” + </p> + <p> + Thereafter they discussed the matter of the vessel that Crispin would + require, and it was arranged between them that Hogan should send a message + to the skipper, bidding him come to Harwich, and there await and place + himself at the command of Sir Crispin Galliard. For fifty pounds Hogan + thought that he would undertake to land Sir Crispin in France. The + messenger might be dispatched forthwith, and the Lady Jane should be at + Harwich, two days later. + </p> + <p> + By the time they had determined upon this, the inmates of the hostelry + were astir, and from the innyard came to them the noise of bustle and + preparation for the day. + </p> + <p> + Presently they left the chamber where they had sat so long, and at the + yard pump the Tavern Knight performed a rude morning toilet. Thereafter, + on a simple fare of herrings and brown ale, they broke their fast; and ere + that meal was done, Kenneth, pale and worn, with dark circles round his + eyes, entered the common room, and sat moodily apart. But when later Hogan + went to see to the dispatching of his messenger, Crispin rose and + approached the youth. + </p> + <p> + Kenneth watched him furtively, without pausing in his meal. He had spent a + very miserable night pondering over the future, which looked gloomy + enough, and debating whether—forgetting and ignoring what had passed—he + should return to the genteel poverty of his Scottish home, or accept the + proffered service of this man who announced himself—and whom he now + believed—to be his father. He had thought, but he was far from + having chosen between Scotland and France, when Crispin now greeted him, + not without constraint. + </p> + <p> + “Jocelyn,” he said, speaking slowly, almost humbly. “In an hour's time I + shall set out to return to Marleigh to fulfil my last night's promise to + you. How I shall accomplish it I scarce know as yet; but accomplish it I + shall. I have arranged to have a vessel awaiting me, and within three days—or + four at the most—I look to cross to France, bearing your bride with + me.” + </p> + <p> + He paused for some reply, but none came. The boy sat on with an impassive + face, his eyes glued to the table, but his mind busy enough upon that + which his father was pouring into his ear. Presently Crispin continued: + </p> + <p> + “You cannot refuse to do as I suggest, Jocelyn. I shall make you the + fullest amends for the harm that I have done you, if you but obey my + directions. You must quit this place as soon as possible, and proceed on + your way to London. There you must find a boat to carry you to France, and + you will await me at the Auberge du Soleil at Calais. You are agreed, + Jocelyn?” + </p> + <p> + There was a slight pause, and Jocelyn took his resolution. Yet there was + still a sullen look in the eyes he lifted to his father's face. + </p> + <p> + “I have little choice, sir,” he made answer, “and so I must agree. If you + accomplish what you promise, I own that you will have made amends, and I + shall crave your pardon for my yesternight's want of faith. I shall await + you at Calais.” + </p> + <p> + Crispin sighed, and for a second his face hardened. It was not the answer + to which he held himself entitled, and for a moment it rose to the lips of + this man of fierce and sudden moods to draw back and let the son, whom at + the moment he began to detest, go his own way, which assuredly would lead + him to perdition. But a second's thought sufficed to quell that mood of + his. + </p> + <p> + “I shall not fail you,” he said coldly. “Have you money for the journey?” + </p> + <p> + The boy flushed as he remembered that little was left of what Joseph + Ashburn had given him. Crispin saw the flush, and reading aright its + meaning, he drew from his pocket a purse that he had been fingering, and + placed it quietly upon the table. “There are fifty Caroluses in that bag. + That should suffice to carry you to France. Fare you well until we meet at + Calais.” + </p> + <p> + And without giving the boy time to utter thanks that might be unwilling, + he quickly left the room. + </p> + <p> + Within the hour he was in the saddle, and his horse's head was turned + northwards once more. + </p> + <p> + He rode through Newport some three hours later without drawing rein. By + the door of the Raven Inn stood a travelling carriage, upon which he did + not so much as bestow a look. + </p> + <p> + By the merest thread hangs at times the whole of a man's future life, the + destinies even of men as yet unborn. So much may depend indeed upon a + glance, that had not Crispin kept his eyes that morning upon the grey road + before him, had he chanced to look sideways as he passed the Raven Inn at + Newport, and seen the Ashburn arms displayed upon the panels of that + coach, he would of a certainty have paused. And had he done so, his whole + destiny would assuredly have shaped a different course from that which he + was unconsciously steering. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII. GREGORY'S ATTRITION + </h2> + <p> + Joseph's journey to London was occasioned by his very natural anxiety to + assure himself that Crispin was caught in the toils of the net he had so + cunningly baited for him, and that at Castle Marleigh he would trouble + them no more. To this end he quitted Sheringham on the day after Crispin's + departure. + </p> + <p> + Not a little perplexed was Cynthia at the topsy-turvydom in which that + morning she had found her father's house. Kenneth was gone; he had left in + the dead of night, and seemingly in haste and suddenness, since on the + previous evening there had been no talk of his departing. Her father was + abed with a wound that made him feverish. Their grooms were all sick, and + wandered in a dazed and witless fashion about the castle, their faces + deadly pale and their eyes lustreless. In the hall she had found a chaotic + disorder upon descending, and one of the panels of the wainscot she saw + was freshly cracked. + </p> + <p> + Slowly the idea forced itself upon her mind that there had been brawling + the night before, yet was she far from surmising the motives that could + have led to it. The conclusion she came to in the end was that the men had + drunk deep, that in their cups they had waxed quarrelsome, and that swords + had been drawn. + </p> + <p> + Of Joseph then she sought enlightenment, and Joseph lied right handsomely, + like the ready-witted knave he was. A wondrously plausible story had he + for her ear; a story that played cunningly upon her knowledge of the + compact that existed between Kenneth and Sir Crispin. + </p> + <p> + “You may not know,” said he—full well aware that she did know—“that + when Galliard saved Kenneth's life at Worcester he exacted from the lad + the promise that in return Kenneth should aid him in some vengeful + business he had on hand.” + </p> + <p> + Cynthia nodded that she understood or that she knew, and glibly Joseph + pursued: + </p> + <p> + “Last night, when on the point of departing, Crispin, who had drunk + over-freely, as is his custom, reminded Kenneth of his plighted word, and + demanded of the boy that he should upon the instant go forth with him. + Kenneth replied that the hour was overlate to be setting out upon a + journey, and he requested Galliard to wait until to-day, when he would be + ready to fulfil what he had promised. But Crispin retorted that Kenneth + was bound by his oath to go with him when he should require it, and again + he bade the boy make ready at once. Words ensued between them, the boy + insisting upon waiting until to-day, and Crispin insisting upon his + getting his boots and cloak and coming with him there and then. More + heated grew the argument, till in the end Galliard, being put out of + temper, snatched at his sword, and would assuredly have spitted the boy + had not your father interposed, thereby getting himself wounded. + Thereafter, in his drunken lust Sir Crispin went the length of wantonly + cracking that panel with his sword by way of showing Kenneth what he had + to expect unless he obeyed him. At that I intervened, and using my + influence, I prevailed upon Kenneth to go with Galliard as he demanded. To + this, for all his reluctance, Kenneth ended by consenting, and so they are + gone.” + </p> + <p> + By that most glib and specious explanation Cynthia was convinced. True, + she added a question touching the amazing condition of the grooms, in + reply to which Joseph afforded her a part of the truth. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Crispin sent them some wine, and they drank to his departure so + heartily that they are not rightly sober yet.” + </p> + <p> + Satisfied with this explanation Cynthia repaired to her father. + </p> + <p> + Now Gregory had not agreed with Joseph what narrative they were to offer + Cynthia, for it had never crossed his dull mind that the disorder of the + hall and the absence of Kenneth might cause her astonishment. And so when + she touched upon the matter of his wound, like the blundering fool he was, + he must needs let his tongue wag upon a tale which, if no less imaginative + than Joseph's, was vastly its inferior in plausibility and had yet the + quality of differing from it totally in substance. + </p> + <p> + “Plague on that dog, your lover, Cynthia,” he growled from the mountain of + pillows that propped him. “If he should come to wed my daughter after + pinning me to the wainscot of my own hall may I be for ever damned.” + </p> + <p> + “How?” quoth she. “Do you say that Kenneth did it?” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, did he. He ran at me ere I could draw, like the coward he is, sink + him, and had me through the shoulder in the twinkling of an eye.” + </p> + <p> + Here was something beyond her understanding. What were they concealing + from her? She set her wits to the discovery and plied her father with + another question. + </p> + <p> + “How came you to quarrel?” + </p> + <p> + “How? 'Twas—'twas concerning you, child,” replied Gregory at random, + and unable to think of a likelier motive. + </p> + <p> + “How, concerning me?” + </p> + <p> + “Leave me, Cynthia,” he groaned in despair. “Go, child. I am grievously + wounded. I have the fever, girl. Go; let me sleep.” + </p> + <p> + “But tell me, father, what passed.” + </p> + <p> + “Unnatural child,” whined Gregory feebly, “will you plague a sick man with + questions? Would you keep him from the sleep that may mean recovery to + him?” + </p> + <p> + “Father, dear,” she murmured softly, “if I thought it was as you say, I + would leave you. But you know that you are but attempting to conceal + something from me something that I should know, that I must know. Bethink + you that it is of my lover that you have spoken.” + </p> + <p> + By a stupendous effort Gregory shaped a story that to him seemed likely. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, since know you must,” he answered, “this is what befell: we + had all drunk over-deep to our shame do I confess it—and growing + tenderhearted for you, and bethinking me of your professed distaste to + Kenneth's suit, I told him that for all the results that were likely to + attend his sojourn at Castle Marleigh, he might as well bear Crispin + company in his departure. He flared up at that, and demanded of me that I + should read him my riddle. Faith, I did by telling him that we were like + to have snow on midsummer's day ere he 'became your husband. That speech + of mine so angered him, being as he was all addled with wine and ripe for + any madness, that he sprang up and drew on me there and then. The others + sought to get between us, but he was over-quick, and before I could do + more than rise from the table his sword was through my shoulder and into + the wainscot at my back. After that it was clear he could not remain here, + and I demanded that he should leave upon the instant. Himself he was + nothing loath, for he realized his folly, and he misliked the gleam of + Joseph's eye—which can be wondrous wicked upon occasion. Indeed, but + for my intercession Joseph had laid him stark.” + </p> + <p> + That both her uncle and her father had lied to her—the one + cunningly, the other stupidly—she had never a doubt, and vaguely + uneasy was Cynthia to learn the truth. Later that day the castle was busy + with the bustle of Joseph's departure, and this again was a matter that + puzzled her. + </p> + <p> + “Whither do you journey, uncle?” she asked of him as he was in the act of + stepping out to enter the waiting carriage. + </p> + <p> + “To London, sweet cousin,” was his brisk reply. “I am, it seems, becoming + a very vagrant in my old age. Have you commands for me?” + </p> + <p> + “What is it you look to do in London?” + </p> + <p> + “There, child, let that be for the present. I will tell you perhaps when I + return. The door, Stephen.” + </p> + <p> + She watched his departure with uneasy eyes and uneasy heart. A fear + pervaded her that in all that had befallen, in all that was befalling + still—what ever it might be—some evil was at work, and an evil + that had Crispin for its scope. She had neither reason nor evidence from + which to draw this inference. It was no more than the instinct whose voice + cries out to us at times a presage of ill, and oftentimes compels our + attention in a degree far higher than any evidence could command. + </p> + <p> + The fear that was in her urged her to seek what information she could on + every hand, but without success. From none could she cull the merest scrap + of evidence to assist her. + </p> + <p> + But on the morrow she had information as prodigal as it was unlooked-for, + and from the unlikeliest of sources—her father himself. Chafing at + his inaction and lured into indiscretions by the subsiding of the pain of + his wound, Gregory quitted his bed and came below that night to sup with + his daughter. As his wont had been for years, he drank freely. That done, + alive to the voice of his conscience, and seeking to drown its + loud-tongued cry, he drank more freely still, so that in the end his + henchman, Stephen, was forced to carry him to bed. + </p> + <p> + This Stephen had grown grey in the service of the Ashburns, and amongst + much valuable knowledge that he had amassed, was a skill in dealing with + wounds and a wide understanding of the ways to go about healing them. This + knowledge made him realize how unwise at such a season was Gregory's + debauch, and sorrowfully did he wag his head over his master's condition + of stupor. + </p> + <p> + Stephen had grave fears concerning him, and these fears were realized when + upon the morrow Gregory awoke on fire with the fever. They summoned a + leech from Sheringham, and this cunning knave, with a view to adding + importance to the cure he was come to effect, and which in reality + presented no alarming difficulty, shook his head with ominous gravity, and + whilst promising to do “all that his skill permitted,” he spoke of a + clergyman to help Gregory make his peace with God. For the leech had no + cause to suspect that the whole of the Sacred College might have found the + task beyond its powers. + </p> + <p> + A wild fear took Gregory in its grip. How could he die with such a load as + that which he now carried upon his soul? And the leech, seeing how the + matter preyed upon his patient's mind, made shift—but too late—to + tranquillize him with assurances that he was not really like to die, and + that he had but mentioned a parson so that Gregory in any case should be + prepared. + </p> + <p> + The storm once raised, however, was not so easily to be allayed, and the + conviction remained with Gregory that his sands were well-nigh run, and + that the end could be but a matter of days in coming. + </p> + <p> + Realizing as he did how richly he had earned damnation, a frantic terror + was upon him, and all that day he tossed and turned, now blaspheming, now + praying, now weeping. His life had been indeed one protracted course of + wrong-doing, and many had suffered by Gregory's evil ways—many a man + and many a woman. But as the stars pale and fade when the sun mounts the + sky, so too were the lesser wrongs that marked his earthly pilgrimage of + sin rendered pale or blotted into insignificance by the greater wrong he + had done Ronald Marleigh—a wrong which was not ended yet, but whose + completion Joseph was even then working to effect. If only he could save + Crispin even now in the eleventh hour; if by some means he could warn him + not to repair to the sign of the Anchor in Thames Street. His disordered + mind took no account of the fact that in the time that was sped since + Galliard's departure, the knight should already have reached London. + </p> + <p> + And so it came about that, consumed at once by the desire to make + confession to whomsoever it might be, and the wish to attempt yet to avert + the crowning evil of whose planning he was partly guilty inasmuch as he + had tacitly consented to Joseph's schemes, Gregory called for his + daughter. She came readily enough, hoping for exactly that which was about + to take place, yet fearing sorely that her hopes would suffer frustration, + and that she would learn nothing from her father. + </p> + <p> + “Cynthia,” he cried, in mingled dread and sorrow, “Cynthia, my child, I am + about to die.” + </p> + <p> + She knew both from Stephen and from the leech that this was far from being + his condition. Nevertheless her filial piety was at that moment a touching + sight. She smoothed his pillows with a gentle grace that was in itself a + soothing caress, even as her soft sympathetic voice was a caress. She took + his hand, and spoke to him endearingly, seeking to relieve the sombre mood + whose prey he was become, assuring him that the leech had told her his + danger was none so imminent, and that with quiet and a little care he + would be up and about again ere many days were sped. But Gregory rejected + hopelessly all efforts at consolation. + </p> + <p> + “I am on my death-bed, Cynthia,” he insisted, “and when I am gone I know + not whom there may be to cheer and comfort your lot in life. Your lover is + away on an errand of Joseph's, and it may well betide that he will never + again cross the threshold of Castle Marleigh. Unnatural though I may seem, + sweetheart, my dying wish is that this may be so.” + </p> + <p> + She looked up in some surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Father, if that be all that grieves you, I can reassure you. I do not + love Kenneth.” + </p> + <p> + “You apprehend me amiss,” said he tartly. “Do you recall the story of Sir + Crispin Galliard's life that you had from Kenneth on the night of Joseph's + return?” His voice shook as he put the question. + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes. I am not like to forget it, and nightly do I pray,” she went + on, her tongue outrunning discretion and betraying her feelings for + Galliard, “that God may punish those murderers who wrecked his existence.” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, girl,” he whispered in a quavering voice. “You know not what you + say.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed I do; and as there is a just God my prayer shall be answered.” + </p> + <p> + “Cynthia,” he wailed. His eyes were wild, and the hand that rested in hers + trembled violently. “Do you know that it is against your father and your + father's brother that you invoke God's vengeance?” + </p> + <p> + She had been kneeling at his bedside; but now, when he pronounced those + words, she rose slowly and stood silent for a spell, her eyes seeking his + with an awful look that he dared not meet. At last: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you rave,” she protested, “it is the fever.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, child, my mind is clear, and what I have said is true.” + </p> + <p> + “True?” she echoed, no louder than a whisper, and her eyes grew round with + horror. “True that you and my uncle are the butchers who slew their + cousin, this man's wife, and sought to murder him as well—leaving + him for dead? True that you are the thieves who claiming kinship by virtue + of that very marriage have usurped his estates and this his castle during + all these years, whilst he himself went an outcast, homeless and + destitute? Is that what you ask me to believe?” + </p> + <p> + “Even so,” he assented, with a feeble sob. + </p> + <p> + Her face was pale—white to the very lips, and her blue eyes + smouldered behind the shelter of her drooping lids. She put her hand to + her breast, then to her brow, pushing back the brown hair by a mechanical + gesture that was pathetic in the tale of pain it told. For support she was + leaning now against the wall by the head of his couch. In silence she + stood so while you might count to twenty; then with a sudden vehemence + revealing the passion of anger and grief that swayed her: + </p> + <p> + “Why,” she cried, “why in God's name do you tell me this?” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” His utterance was thick, and his eyes, that were grown dull as a + snake's, stared straight before him, daring not to meet his daughter's + glance. “I tell it you,” he said, “because I am a dying man.” And he hoped + that the consideration of that momentous fact might melt her, and might by + pity win her back to him—that she was lost to him he realized. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you because I am a dying man,” he repeated. “I tell it you because + in such an hour I fain would make confession and repent, that God may have + mercy upon my soul. I tell it you, too, because the tragedy begun eighteen + years ago is not yet played out, and it may yet be mine to avert the end + we had prepared—Joseph and I. Thus perhaps a merciful God will place + it in my power to make some reparation. Listen, child. It was against us, + as you will have guessed, that Galliard enlisted Kenneth's services, and + here on the night of Joseph's return he called upon the boy to fulfil him + what he had sworn. The lad had no choice but to obey; indeed, I forced him + to it by attacking him and compelling him to draw, which is how I came by + this wound. + </p> + <p> + “Crispin had of a certainty killed Joseph but that your uncle bethought + him of telling him that his son lived.” + </p> + <p> + “He saved his life by a lie! That was worthy of him,” said Cynthia + scornfully. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, child, he spoke the truth, and when Joseph offered to restore the + boy to him, he had every intention of so doing. But in the moment of + writing the superscription to the letter Crispin was to bear to those that + had reared the child, Joseph bethought him of a foul scheme for Galliard's + final destruction. And so he has sent him to London instead, to a house in + Thames Street, where dwells one Colonel Pride, who bears Sir Crispin a + heavy grudge, and into whose hands he will be thus delivered. Can aught be + done, Cynthia, to arrest this—to save Sir Crispin from Joseph's + snare?” + </p> + <p> + “As well might you seek to restore the breath to a dead man,” she + answered, and her voice was so oddly calm, so cold and bare of expression, + that Gregory shuddered to hear it. + </p> + <p> + “Do not delude yourself,” she added. “Sir Crispin will have reached London + long ere this, and by now Joseph will be well on his way to see that there + is no mistake made, and that the life you ruined hopelessly years ago is + plucked at last from this unfortunate man. Merciful God! am I truly your + daughter?” she cried. “Is my name indeed Ashburn, and have I been reared + upon the estates that by crime you gained possession of? Estates that by + crime you hold—for they are his; every stone, every stick that goes + to make the place belongs to him, and now he has gone to his death by your + contriving.” + </p> + <p> + A moan escaped her, and she covered her face with her hands. A moment she + stood rocking there—a fair, lissom plant swept by a gale of + ineffable emotion. Then the breath seemed to go all out of her in one + great sigh, and Gregory, who dared not look her way, heard the swish of + her gown, followed by a thud as she collapsed and lay swooning on the + ground. + </p> + <p> + So disturbed at that was Gregory's spirit that, forgetting his wound, his + fever, and the death which he had believed impending, he leapt from his + couch, and throwing wide the door, bellowed lustily for Stephen. In + frightened haste came his henchman to answer the petulant summons, and in + obedience to Gregory's commands he went off again as quickly in quest of + Catherine—Cynthia's woman. + </p> + <p> + Between them they bore the unconscious girl to her chamber, leaving + Gregory to curse himself for having been lured into a confession that it + now seemed to him had been unnecessary, since in his newly found vitality + he realized that death was none so near a thing as that scoundrelly fool + of a leech had led him to believe. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV. THE WOOING OF CYNTHIA + </h2> + <p> + Cynthia's swoon was after all but brief. Upon recovering consciousness her + first act was to dismiss her woman. She had need to be alone—the + need of the animal that is wounded to creep into its lair and hide itself. + And so alone with her sorrow she sat through that long day. + </p> + <p> + That her father's condition was grievous she knew to be untrue, so that + concerning him there was not even that pity that she might have felt had + she believed—as he would have had her believe that he was dying. + </p> + <p> + As she pondered the monstrous disclosure he had made, her heart hardened + against him, and even as she had asked him whether indeed she was his + daughter, so now she vowed to herself that she would be his daughter no + longer. She would leave Castle Marleigh, never again to set eyes upon her + father, and she hoped that during the little time she must yet remain + there—a day, or two at most—she might be spared the ordeal of + again meeting a parent for whom respect was dead, and who inspired her + with just that feeling of horror she must have for any man who confessed + himself a murderer and a thief. + </p> + <p> + She resolved to repair to London to a sister of her mother's, where for + her dead mother's sake she would find a haven extended readily. + </p> + <p> + At eventide she came at last from her chamber. + </p> + <p> + She had need of air, need of the balm that nature alone can offer in + solitude to poor wounded human souls. + </p> + <p> + It was a mild and sunny evening, worthy rather of August than of October, + and aimlessly Mistress Cynthia wandered towards the cliffs overlooking + Sheringham Hithe. There she sate herself in sad dejection upon the grass, + and gazed wistfully seaward, her mind straying now from the sorry theme + that had held dominion in it, to the memories that very spot evoked. + </p> + <p> + It was there, sitting as she sat now, her eyes upon the shimmering waste + of sea, and the gulls circling overhead, that she had awakened to the + knowledge of her love for Crispin. And so to him strayed now her thoughts, + and to the fate her father had sent him to; and thus back again to her + father and the evil he had wrought. It is matter for conjecture whether + her loathing for Gregory would have been as intense as it was, had another + than Crispin Galliard been his victim. + </p> + <p> + Her life seemed at an end as she sat that October evening on the cliffs. + No single interest linked her to existence; nothing, it seemed, was left + her to hope for till the end should come—and no doubt it would be + long in coming, for time moves slowly when we wait. + </p> + <p> + Wistful she sat and thought, and every thought begat a sigh, and then of a + sudden—surely her ears had tricked her, enslaved by her imagination—a + crisp, metallic voice rang out close behind her. + </p> + <p> + “Why are we pensive, Mistress Cynthia?” + </p> + <p> + There was a catch in her breath as she turned her head. Her cheeks took + fire, and for a second were aflame. Then they went deadly white, and it + seemed that time and life and the very world had paused in its relentless + progress towards eternity. For there stood the object of her thoughts and + sighs, sudden and unexpected, as though the earth had cast him up on to + her surface. + </p> + <p> + His thin lips were parted in a smile that softened wondrously the + harshness of his face, and his eyes seemed then to her alight with + kindness. A moment's pause there was, during which she sought her voice, + and when she had found it, all that she could falter was: + </p> + <p> + “Sir, how came you here? They told me that you rode to London.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, so I did. But on the road I chanced to halt, and having halted I + discovered reason why I should return.” + </p> + <p> + He had discovered a reason. She asked herself breathlessly what might that + reason be, and finding herself no answer to the question, she put it next + to him. + </p> + <p> + He drew near to her before replying. “May I sit with you awhile, Cynthia?” + </p> + <p> + She moved aside to make room for him, as though the broad cliff had been a + narrow ledge, and with the sigh of a weary man finding a resting-place at + last, he sank down beside her. + </p> + <p> + There was a tenderness in his voice that set her pulses stirring wildly. + Did she guess aright the reason that had caused him to break his journey + and return? That he had done so—no matter what the reason—she + thanked God from her inmost heart, as for a miracle that had saved him + from the doom awaiting him in London town. + </p> + <p> + “Am I presumptuous, child, to think that haply the meditation in which I + found you rapt was for one, unworthy though he be, who went hence but some + few days since?” + </p> + <p> + The ambiguous question drove every thought from her mind, filling it to + overflowing with the supreme good of his presence, and the frantic hope + that she had read aright the reason of it. + </p> + <p> + “Have I conjectured rightly?” he asked, since she kept silence. + </p> + <p> + “Mayhap you have,” she whispered in return, and then, marvelling at her + boldness, blushed. He glanced sharply at her from narrowing eyes. It was + not the answer he had looked to hear. + </p> + <p> + As a father might have done he took the slender hand that rested upon the + grass beside him, and she, poor child, mistaking the promptings of that + action, suffered it to lie in his strong grasp. With averted head she + gazed upon the sea below, until a mist of tears rose up to blot it out. + The breeze seemed full of melody and gladness. God was very good to her, + and sent her in her hour of need this great consolation—a + consolation indeed that must have served to efface whatever sorrow could + have beset her. + </p> + <p> + “Why then, sweet lady, is my task that I had feared to find all fraught + with difficulty, grown easy indeed.” + </p> + <p> + And hearing him pause: + </p> + <p> + “What task is that, Sir Crispin?” she asked, intent on helping him. + </p> + <p> + He did not reply at once. He found it difficult to devise an answer. To + tell her brutally that he was come to bear her away, willing or unwilling, + on behalf of another, was not easy. Indeed, it was impossible, and he was + glad that inclinations in her which he had little dreamt of, put the + necessity aside. + </p> + <p> + “My task, Mistress Cynthia, is to bear you hence. To ask you to resign + this peaceful life, this quiet home in a little corner of the world, and + to go forth to bear life's hardships with one who, whatever be his + shortcomings, has the all-redeeming virtue of loving you beyond aught else + in life.” + </p> + <p> + He gazed intently at her as he spoke, and her eyes fell before his glance. + He noted the warm, red blood suffusing her cheeks, her brow, her very + neck; and he could have laughed aloud for joy at finding so simple that + which he had feared would prove so hard. Some pity, too, crept + unaccountably into his stern heart, fathered by the little faith which in + his inmost soul he reposed in Jocelyn. And where, had she resisted him, he + would have grown harsh and violent, her acquiescence struck the weapons + from his hands, and he caught himself well-nigh warning her against + accompanying him. + </p> + <p> + “It is much to ask,” he said. “But love is selfish, and love asks much.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” she protested softly, “it is not much to ask. Rather is it much + to offer.” + </p> + <p> + At that he was aghast. Yet he continued: + </p> + <p> + “Bethink you, Mistress Cynthia, I have ridden back to Sheringham to ask + you to come with me into France, where my son awaits us?” + </p> + <p> + He forgot for the moment that she was in ignorance of his relationship to + him he looked upon as her lover, whilst she gave this mention of his son, + of whose existence she had already heard from her; father, little thought + at that moment. The hour was too full of other things that touched her + more nearly. + </p> + <p> + “I ask you to abandon the ease and peace of Sheringham for a life as a + soldier's bride that may be rough and precarious for a while, though, + truth to tell, I have some influence at the Luxembourg, and friends upon + whose assistance I can safely count, to find your husband honourable + employment, and set him on the road to more. And how, guided by so sweet a + saint, can he but mount to fame and honour?” + </p> + <p> + She spoke no word, but the hand resting in his entwined his fingers in an + answering pressure. + </p> + <p> + “Dare I then ask so much?” cried he. And as if the ambiguity which had + marked his speech were not enough, he must needs, as he put this question, + bend in his eagerness towards her until her brown tresses touched his + swart cheek. Was it then strange that the eagerness wherewith he urged + another's suit should have been by her interpreted as her heart would have + had it? + </p> + <p> + She set her hands upon his shoulders, and meeting his eager gaze with the + frank glance of the maid who, out of trust, is fearless in her surrender: + </p> + <p> + “Throughout my life I shall thank God that you have dared it,” she made + answer softly. + </p> + <p> + A strange reply he deemed it, yet, pondering, he took her meaning to be + that since Jocelyn had lacked the courage to woo boldly, she was glad that + he had sent an ambassador less timid. + </p> + <p> + A pause followed, and for a spell they sat silent, he thinking of how to + frame his next words; she happy and content to sit beside him without + speech. + </p> + <p> + She marvelled somewhat at the strangeness of his wooing, which was like + unto no wooing her romancer's tales had told her of, but then she + reflected how unlike he was to other men, and therein she saw the + explanation. + </p> + <p> + “I wish,” he mused, “that matters were easier; that it might be mine to + boldly sue your hand from your father, but it may not be. Even had events + not fallen out as they have done, it had been difficult; as it is, it is + impossible.” + </p> + <p> + Again his meaning was obscure, and when he spoke of suing for her hand + from her father, he did not think of adding that he would have sued it for + his son. + </p> + <p> + “I have no father,” she replied. “This very day have I disowned him.” And + observing the inquiry with which his eyes were of a sudden charged: “Would + you have me own a thief, a murderer, my father?” she demanded, with a + fierceness of defiant shame. + </p> + <p> + “You know, then?” he ejaculated. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she answered sorrowfully, “I know all there is to be known. I + learnt it all this morning. All day have I pondered it in my shame to end + in the resolve to leave Sheringham. I had intended going to London to my + mother's sister. You are very opportunely come.” She smiled up at him + through the tears that were glistening in her eyes. “You come even as I + was despairing—nay, when already I had despaired.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Crispin was no longer puzzled by the readiness of her acquiescence. + Here was the explanation of it. Forced by the honesty of her pure soul to + abandon the house of a father she knew at last for what he was, the refuge + Crispin now offered her was very welcome. She had determined before he + came to quit Castle Marleigh, and timely indeed was his offer of the means + of escape from a life that was grown impossible. A great pity filled his + heart. She was selling herself, he thought; accepting the proposal which, + on his son's behalf, he made, and from which at any other season, he + feared, she would have shrunk in detestation. + </p> + <p> + That pity was reflected on his countenance now, and noting its solemnity, + and misconstruing it, she laughed outright, despite herself. He did not + ask her why she laughed, he did not notice it; his thoughts were busy + already upon another matter. + </p> + <p> + When next he spoke, it was to describe to her the hollow of the road where + on the night of his departure from the castle he had been flung from his + horse. She knew the spot, she told him, and there at dusk upon the + following day she would come to him. Her woman must accompany her, and for + all that he feared such an addition to the party might retard their + flight, yet he could not gainsay her resolution. Her uncle, he learnt from + her, was absent from Sheringham; he had set out four days ago for London. + For her father she would leave a letter, and in this matter Crispin urged + her to observe circumspection, giving no indication of the direction of + her journey. + </p> + <p> + In all he said, now that matters were arranged he was calm, practical, and + unloverlike, and for all that she would he had been less self-possessed, + her faith in him caused her, upon reflection, even to admire this which + she conceived to be restraint. Yet, when at parting he did no more than + courteously bend before her, and kiss her hand as any simpering gallant + might have done, she was all but vexed, and not to be outdone in coldness, + she grew frigid. But it was lost upon him. He had not a lover's + discernment, quickened by anxious eyes that watch for each flitting change + upon his mistress's face. + </p> + <p> + They parted thus, and into the heart of Mistress Cynthia there crept that + night a doubt that banished sleep. Was she wise in entrusting herself so + utterly to a man of whom she knew but little, and that learnt from rumours + which had not been good? But scarcely was it because of that that doubts + assailed her. Rather was it because of his cool deliberateness which + argued not the great love wherewith she fain would fancy him inspired. + </p> + <p> + For consolation she recalled a line that had it great fires were soon + burnt out, and she sought to reassure herself that the flame of his love, + if not all-consuming, would at least burn bright and steadfastly until the + end of life. And so she fell asleep, betwixt hope and fear, yet no longer + with any hesitancy touching the morrow's course. + </p> + <p> + In the morning she took her woman into her confidence, and scared her with + it out of what little sense the creature owned. Yet to such purpose did + she talk, that when that evening, as Crispin waited by the coach he had + taken, in the hollow of the road, he saw approaching him a portly, + middle-aged dame with a valise. This was Cynthia's woman, and Cynthia + herself was not long in following, muffled in a long, black cloak. + </p> + <p> + He greeted her warmly—affectionately almost yet with none of the + rapture to which she held herself entitled as some little recompense for + all that on his behalf she left behind. + </p> + <p> + Urbanely he handed her into the coach, and, after her, her woman. Then + seeing that he made shift to close the door: + </p> + <p> + “How is this?” she cried. “Do you not ride with us?” + </p> + <p> + He pointed to a saddled horse standing by the roadside, and which she had + not noticed. + </p> + <p> + “It will be better so. You will be at more comfort in the carriage without + me. Moreover, it will travel the lighter and the swifter, and speed will + prove our best friend.” + </p> + <p> + He closed the door, and stepped back with a word of command to the driver. + The whip cracked, and Cynthia flung herself back almost in a pet. What + manner of lover, she asked herself, was thin and what manner of woman she, + to let herself be borne away by one who made so little use of the arts and + wiles of sweet persuasion? To carry her off, and yet not so much as sit + beside her, was worthy only of a man who described such a journey as + tedious. She marvelled greatly at it, yet more she marvelled at herself + that she did not abandon this mad undertaking. + </p> + <p> + The coach moved on and the flight from Sheringham was begun. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXV. CYNTHIA'S FLIGHT + </h2> + <p> + Throughout the night they went rumbling on their way at a pace whose + sluggishness elicited many an oath from Crispin as he rode a few yards in + the rear, ever watchful of the possibility of pursuit. But there was none, + nor none need he have feared, since whilst he rode through the cold night, + Gregory Ashburn slept as peacefully as a man may with the fever and an + evil conscience, and imagined his dutiful daughter safely abed. + </p> + <p> + With the first streaks of steely light came a thin rain to heighten + Crispin's discomfort, for of late he had been overmuch in the saddle, and + strong though he was, he was yet flesh and blood, and subject to its ills. + Towards ten o'clock they passed through Denham. When they were clear of it + Cynthia put her head from the window. She had slept well, and her mood was + lighter and happier. As Crispin rode a yard or so behind, he caught sight + of her fresh, smiling face, and it affected him curiously. The tenderness + that two days ago had been his as he talked to her upon the cliffs was + again upon him, and the thought that anon she would be linked to him by + the ties of relationship, was pleasurable. She gave him good morrow + prettily, and he, spurring his horse to the carriage door, was solicitous + to know of her comfort. Nor did he again fall behind until Stafford was + reached at noon. Here, at the sign of the Suffolk Arms, he called a halt, + and they broke their fast on the best the house could give them. + </p> + <p> + Cynthia was gay, and so indeed was Crispin, yet she noted in him that + coolness which she accounted restraint, and gradually her spirits sank + again before it. + </p> + <p> + To Crispin's chagrin there were no horses to be had. Someone in great + haste had ridden through before them, and taken what relays the hostelry + could give, leaving four jaded beasts in the stable. It seemed, indeed, + that they must remain there until the morrow, and in coming to that + conclusion, Sir Crispin's temper suffered sorely. + </p> + <p> + “Why need it put you so about,” cried Cynthia, in arch reproach, “since I + am with you?” + </p> + <p> + “Blood and fire, madam,” roared Galliard, “it is precisely for that reason + that I am exercised. What if your father came upon us here?” + </p> + <p> + “My father, sir, is abed with a sword-wound and a fever,” she replied, and + he remembered then how Kenneth had spitted Gregory through the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Still,” he returned, “he will have discovered your flight, and I dare + swear we shall have his myrmidons upon our heels. Should they come up with + us we shall hardly find them more gentle than he would be.” + </p> + <p> + She paled at that, and for a second there was silence. Then her hand stole + forth upon his arm, and she looked at him with tightened lips and a + defiant air. + </p> + <p> + “What, indeed, if they do? Are you not with me?” A king had praised his + daring, and for his valour had dubbed him knight upon a field of stricken + battle; yet the honour of it had not brought him the elation those words—expressive + of her utter faith in him and his prowess—begat in his heart. Upon + the instant the delay ceased to fret him. + </p> + <p> + “Madam,” he laughed, “since you put it so, I care not who comes. The Lord + Protector himself shall not drag you from me.” + </p> + <p> + It was the nearest he had gone to a passionate speech since they had left + Sheringham, and it pleased her; yet in uttering it he had stood a full two + yards away, and in that she had taken no pleasure. + </p> + <p> + Bidding her remain and get what rest she might, he left her, and she, + following his straight, lank figure—so eloquent of strength—and + the familiar poise of his left hand upon the pummel of his sword, felt + proud indeed that he belonged to her, and secure in his protection. She + sat herself at the window when he was gone, and whilst she awaited his + return, she hummed a gay measure softly to herself. Her eyes were bright, + and there was a flush upon her cheeks. Not even in the wet, greasy street + could she find any unsightliness that afternoon. But as she waited, and + the minutes grew to hours, that flush faded, and the sparkle died + gradually from her eyes. The measure that she had hummed was silenced, and + her shapely mouth took on a pout of impatience, which anon grew into a + tighter mould, as he continued absent. + </p> + <p> + A frown drew her brows together, and Mistress Cynthia's thoughts were much + as they had been the night before she left Castle Marleigh. Where was he? + Why came he not? She took up a book of plays that lay upon the table, and + sought to while away the time by reading. The afternoon faded into dusk, + and still he did not come. Her woman appeared, to ask whether she should + call for lights and at that Cynthia became almost violent. + </p> + <p> + “Where is Sir Crispin?” she demanded. And to the dame's quavering answer + that she knew not, she angrily bade her go ascertain. + </p> + <p> + In a pet, Cynthia paced the chamber whilst Catherine was gone upon that + errand. Did this man account her a toy to while away the hours for which + he could find no more profitable diversion, and to leave her to die of + ennui when aught else offered? Was it a small thing that he had asked of + her, to go with him into a strange land, that he should show himself so + little sensible of the honour done him? + </p> + <p> + With such questions did she plague herself, and finding them either + unanswerable, or answerable only by affirmatives, she had well-nigh + resolved upon leaving the inn, and making her way back to London to seek + out her aunt, when the door opened and her woman reappeared. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” cried Cynthia, seeing her alone. “Where is Sir Crispin?” + </p> + <p> + “Below, madam.” + </p> + <p> + “Below?” echoed she. “And what, pray, doth he below?” + </p> + <p> + “He is at dice with a gentleman from London.” + </p> + <p> + In the dim light of the October twilight the woman saw not the sudden + pallor of her mistress's cheeks, but she heard the gasp of pain that was + almost a cry. In her mortification, Cynthia could have wept had she given + way to her feelings. The man who had induced her to elope with him sat at + dice with a gentleman from London! Oh, it was monstrous! At the thought of + it she broke into a laugh that appalled her tiring-woman; then mastering + her hysteria, she took a sudden determination. + </p> + <p> + “Call me the host,” she cried, and the frightened Catherine obeyed her at + a run. + </p> + <p> + When the landlord came, bearing lights, and bending his aged back + obsequiously: + </p> + <p> + “Have you a pillion?” she asked abruptly. “Well, fool, why do you stare? + Have you a pillion?” + </p> + <p> + “I have, madam.” + </p> + <p> + “And a knave to ride with me, and a couple more as escort?” + </p> + <p> + “I might procure them, but—” + </p> + <p> + “How soon?” + </p> + <p> + “Within half an hour, but—” + </p> + <p> + “Then go see to it,” she broke in, her foot beating the ground + impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “But, madam—” + </p> + <p> + “Go, go, go!” she cried, her voice rising at each utterance of that + imperative. + </p> + <p> + “But, madam,” the host persisted despairingly, and speaking quickly so + that he might get the words out, “I have no horses fit to travel ten + miles.” + </p> + <p> + “I need to go but five,” she retorted quickly, her only thought being to + get the beasts, no matter what their condition. “Now, go, and come not + back until all is ready. Use dispatch and I will pay you well, and above + all, not a word to the gentleman who came hither with me.” + </p> + <p> + The sorely-puzzled host withdrew to do her bidding, won to it by her + promise of good payment. + </p> + <p> + Alone she sat for half an hour, vainly fostering the hope that ere the + landlord returned to announce the conclusion of his preparations, Crispin + might have remembered her and come. But he did not appear, and in her + solitude this poor little maid was very miserable, and shed some tears + that had still more of anger than sorrow in their source. At length the + landlord came. She summoned her woman, and bade her follow by post on the + morrow. The landlord she rewarded with a ring worth twenty times the value + of the service, and was led by him through a side door into the innyard. + </p> + <p> + Here she found three horses, one equipped with the pillion on which she + was to ride behind a burly stableboy. The other two were mounted by a + couple of stalwart and well-armed men, one of whom carried a + funnel-mouthed musketoon with a swagger that promised prodigies of valour. + </p> + <p> + Wrapped in her cloak, she mounted behind the stable-boy, and bade him set + out and take the road to Denham. Her dream was at an end. + </p> + <p> + Master Quinn, the landlord, watched her departure with eyes that were + charged with doubt and concern. As he made fast the door of the stableyard + after she had passed out, he ominously shook his hoary head and muttered + to himself humble, hostelry-flavoured philosophies touching the strange + ways of men with women, and the stranger ways of women with men. Then, + taking up his lanthorn, he slowly retraced his steps to the buttery where + his wife was awaiting him. + </p> + <p> + With sleeves rolled high above her pink and deeply-dimpled elbows stood + Mistress Quinn at work upon the fashioning of a pastry, when her husband + entered and set down his lanthorn with a sigh. + </p> + <p> + “To be so plagued,” he growled. “To be browbeaten by a slip of a wench—a + fine gentleman's baggage with the airs and vapours of a lady of quality. + Am I not a fool to have endured it?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly you are a fool,” his wife agreed, kneading diligently, + “whatever you may have endured. What now?” + </p> + <p> + His fat face was puckered into a thousand wrinkles. His little eyes gazed + at her with long-suffering malice. + </p> + <p> + “You are my wife,” he answered pregnantly, as who would say: Thus is my + folly clearly proven! and seeing that the assertion was not one that + admitted of dispute, Mistress Quinn was silent. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, 'tis ill done!” he broke out a moment later. “Shame on me for it; it + is ill done!” + </p> + <p> + “If you have done it 'tis sure to be ill done, and shame on you in good + sooth—but for what?” put in his wife. + </p> + <p> + “For sending those poor jaded beasts upon the road.” + </p> + <p> + “What beasts?” + </p> + <p> + “What beasts? Do I keep turtles? My horses, woman.” + </p> + <p> + “And whither have you sent them?” + </p> + <p> + “To Denham with the baggage that came hither this morning in the company + of that very fierce gentleman who was in such a pet because we had no + horses.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is he?” inquired the hostess. + </p> + <p> + “At dice with those other gallants from town.” + </p> + <p> + “At dice quotha? And she's gone, you say?” asked Mrs. Quinn, pausing in + her labours squarely to face her husband. + </p> + <p> + “Aye,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Stupid!” rejoined his docile spouse, vexed by his laconic assent. “Do you + mean she has run away?” + </p> + <p> + “Tis what anyone might take from what I have told you,” he answered + sweetly. + </p> + <p> + “And you have lent her horses and helped her to get away, and you leave + her husband at play in there?” + </p> + <p> + “You have seen her marriage lines, I make no doubt,” he sneered + irrelevantly. + </p> + <p> + “You dolt! If the gentleman horsewhips you, you will have richly earned + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Eh? What?” gasped he, and his rubicund cheeks lost something of their + high colour, for here was a possibility that had not entered into his + calculations. But Mistress Quinn stayed not to answer him. Already she was + making for the door, wiping the dough from her hands on to her apron as + she went. A suspicion of her purpose flashed through her husband's mind. + </p> + <p> + “What would you do?” he inquired nervously. + </p> + <p> + “Tell the gentleman what has taken place.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay,” he cried, resolutely barring her way. “Nay. That you shall not. + Would you—would you ruin me?” + </p> + <p> + She gave him a look of contempt, and dodging his grasp she gained the door + and was half-way down the passage towards the common room before he had + overtaken her and caught her round the middle. + </p> + <p> + “Are you mad, woman?” he shouted. “Will you undo me?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you undo me,” she bade him, snatching at his hands. But he clutched + with the tightness of despair. + </p> + <p> + “You shall not go,” he swore. “Come back and leave the gentleman to make + the discovery for himself. I dare swear it will not afflict him overmuch. + He has abandoned her sorely since they came; not a doubt of it but that he + is weary of her. At least he need not know I lent her horses. Let him + think she fled a-foot, when he discovers her departure.” + </p> + <p> + “I will go,” she answered stubbornly, dragging him with her a yard or two + nearer the door. “The gentleman shall be warned. Is a woman to run away + from her husband in my house, and the husband never be warned of it?” + </p> + <p> + “I promised her,” he began. + </p> + <p> + “What care I for your promises?” she asked. “I will tell him, so that he + may yet go after her and bring her back.” + </p> + <p> + “You shall not,” he insisted, gripping her more closely. But at that + moment a delicately mocking voice greeted their ears. + </p> + <p> + “Marry, 'tis vastly diverting to hear you,” it said. They looked round, to + find one of the party of town sparks that had halted at the inn standing + arms akimbo in the narrow passage, clearly waiting for them to make room. + “A touching sight, sir,” said he sardonically to the landlord. “A wondrous + touching sight to behold a man of your years playing the turtle-dove to + his good wife like the merest fledgeling. It grieves me to intrude myself + so harshly upon your cooing, though if you'll but let me pass you may + resume your chaste embrace without uneasiness, for I give you my word I'll + never look behind me.” + </p> + <p> + Abashed, the landlord and his dame fell apart. Then, ere the gentleman + could pass her, Mistress Quinn, like a true opportunist, sped swiftly down + the passage and into the common room before her husband could again detain + her. + </p> + <p> + Now, within the common room of the Suffolk Arms Sir Crispin sat face to + face with a very pretty fellow, all musk and ribbons, and surrounded by + some half-dozen gentlemen on their way to London who had halted to rest at + Stafford. + </p> + <p> + The pretty gentleman swore lustily, affected a monstrous wicked look, + assured that he was impressing all who stood about with some conceit of + the rakehelly ways he pursued in town. + </p> + <p> + A game started with crowns to while away the tedium of the enforced + sojourn at the inn had grown to monstrous proportions. Fortune had + favoured the youth at first, but as the stakes grew her favours to him + diminished, and at the moment that Cynthia rode out of the inn-yard, Mr. + Harry Foster flung his last gold piece with an oath upon the table. + </p> + <p> + “Rat me,” he groaned, “there's the end of a hundred.” + </p> + <p> + He toyed sorrowfully with the red ribbon in his black hair, and Crispin, + seeing that no fresh stake was forthcoming, made shift to rise. But the + coxcomb detained him. + </p> + <p> + “Tarry, sir,” he cried, “I've not yet done. 'Slife, we'll make a night of + it.” + </p> + <p> + He drew a ring from his finger, and with a superb gesture of disdain + pushed it across the board. + </p> + <p> + “What'll ye stake?” And, in the same breath, “Boy, another stoup,” he + cried. + </p> + <p> + Crispin eyed the gem carelessly. + </p> + <p> + “Twenty Caroluses,” he muttered. + </p> + <p> + “Rat me, sir, that nose of yours proclaims you a jew, without more. Say + twenty-five, and I'll cast.” + </p> + <p> + With a tolerant smile, and the shrug of a man to whom twenty-five or a + hundred are of like account, Crispin consented. They threw; Crispin passed + and won. + </p> + <p> + “What'll ye stake?” cried Mr. Foster, and a second ring followed the + first. + </p> + <p> + Before Crispin could reply, the door leading to the interior of the inn + was flung open, and Mrs. Quinn, breathless with exertion and excitement, + came scurrying across the room. In the doorway stood the host in hesitancy + and fear. Bending to Crispin's ear, Mrs. Quinn delivered her message in a + whisper that was heard by most of those who were about. + </p> + <p> + “Gone!” cried Crispin in consternation. + </p> + <p> + The woman pointed to her husband, and Crispin, understanding from this + that she referred him to the host, called to him. + </p> + <p> + “What know you, landlord?” he shouted. “Come hither, and tell me whither + is she gone!” + </p> + <p> + “I know not,” replied the quaking host, adding the particulars of + Cynthia's departure, and the information that the lady seemed in great + anger. + </p> + <p> + “Saddle me a horse,” cried Crispin, leaping to his feet, and pitching Mr. + Foster's trinket upon the table as though it were a thing of no value. + “Towards Denham you say they rode? Quick, man!” And as the host departed + he swept the gold and the ring he had won into his pockets preparing to + depart. + </p> + <p> + “Hoity toity!” cried Mr. Foster. “What sudden haste is this?” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry, sir, that Fortune has been unkind to you, but I must go. + Circumstances have arisen which—” + </p> + <p> + “D—n your circumstances!” roared Foster, get ting on his feet. + “You'll not leave me thus!” + </p> + <p> + “With your permission, sir, I will.” + </p> + <p> + “But you shall not have my permission!” + </p> + <p> + “Then I shall be so unfortunate as to go without it. But I shall return.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir, 'tis an old legend, that!” + </p> + <p> + Crispin turned about in despair. To be embroiled now might ruin + everything, and by a miracle he kept his temper. He had a moment to spare + while his horse was being saddled. + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” he said, “if you have upon your pretty person trinkets to half the + value of what I have won from you, I'll stake the whole against them on + one throw, after which, no matter what the result, I take my departure. + Are you agreed?” + </p> + <p> + There was a murmur of admiration from those present at the recklessness + and the generosity of the proposal, and Foster was forced to accept it. + Two more rings he drew forth, a diamond from the ruffles at his throat, + and a pearl that he wore in his ear. The lot he set upon the board, and + Crispin threw the winning cast as the host entered to say that his horse + was ready. + </p> + <p> + He gathered the trinkets up, and with a polite word of regret he was gone, + leaving Mr. Harry Foster to meditate upon the pledging of one of his + horses to the landlord in discharge of his lodging. + </p> + <p> + And so it fell out that before Cynthia had gone six miles along the road + to Denham, one of her attendants caught a rapid beat of hoofs behind them, + and drew her attention to it, suggesting that they were being followed. + Faster Cynthia bade them travel, but the pursuer gained upon them at every + stride. Again the man drew her attention to it, and proposed that they + should halt and face him who followed. The possession of the musketoon + gave him confidence touching the issue. But Cynthia shuddered at the + thought, and again, with promises of rich reward, urged them to go faster. + Another mile they went, but every moment brought the pursuing hoof-beats + nearer and nearer, until at last a hoarse challenge rang out behind them, + and they knew that to go farther would be vain; within the next half-mile, + ride as they might, their pursuer would be upon them. + </p> + <p> + The night was moonless, yet sufficiently clear for objects to be perceived + against the sky, and presently the black shadow of him who rode behind + loomed up upon the road, not a hundred paces off. + </p> + <p> + Despite Cynthia's orders not to fire, he of the musketoon raised his + weapon under cover of the darkness and blazed at the approaching shadow. + </p> + <p> + Cynthia cried out—a shriek of dismay it was; the horses plunged, and + Sir Crispin laughed aloud as he bore down upon them. He of the musketoon + heard the swish of a sword being drawn, and saw the glitter of the blade + in the dark. A second later there was a shock as Crispin's horse dashed + into his, and a crushing blow across the forehead, which Galliard + delivered with the hilt of his rapier, sent him hurtling from the saddle. + His comrade clapped spurs to his horse at that and was running a race with + the night wind in the direction of Denham. + </p> + <p> + Before Cynthia quite knew what had happened the seat on the pillion in + front of her was empty, and she was riding back to Stafford with Crispin + beside her, his hand upon the bridle of her horse. + </p> + <p> + “You little fool!” he said half-angrily, half-gibingly; and thereafter + they rode in silence—she too mortified with shame and anger to + venture upon words. + </p> + <p> + That journey back to Stafford was a speedy one, and soon they stood again + in the inn-yard out of which she had ridden but an hour ago. Avoiding the + common room, Crispin ushered her through the side door by which she had + quitted the house. The landlord met them in the passage, and looking at + Crispin's face the pallor and fierceness of it drove him back without a + word. + </p> + <p> + Together they ascended to the chamber where in solitude she had spent the + day. Her feelings were those of a child caught in an act of disobedience, + and she was angry with herself and her weakness that it should be so. Yet + within the room she stood with bent head, never glancing at her companion, + in whose eyes there was a look of blended anger and amazement as he + observed her. At length in calm, level tones: + </p> + <p> + “Why did you run away?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + The question was to her anger as a gust of wind to a smouldering fire. She + threw back her head defiantly, and fixed him with a glance as fierce as + his own. + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you,” she cried, and suddenly stopped short. The fire died + from her eyes, and they grew wide in wonder—in fascinated wonder—to + see a deep stain overspreading one side of his grey doublet, from the left + shoulder downwards. Her wonder turned to horror as she realized the nature + of that stain and remembered that one of her men had fired upon him. + </p> + <p> + “You are wounded?” she faltered. + </p> + <p> + A sickly smile came into his face, and seemed to accentuate its pallor. He + made a deprecatory gesture. Then, as if in that gesture he had expended + his last grain of strength, he swayed suddenly as he stood. He made as if + to reach a chair, but at the second step he stumbled, and without further + warning he fell prone at her feet, his left hand upon his heart, his right + outstretched straight from the shoulder. The loss of blood he had + sustained, following upon the fatigue and sleeplessness that had been his + of late, had demanded its due from him, man of iron though he was. + </p> + <p> + Upon the instant her anger vanished. A great fear that he was dead + descended upon her, and to heighten the horror of it came the thought that + he had received his death-wound through her agency. With a moan of anguish + she went down upon her knees beside him. She raised his head and pillowed + it in her lap, calling to him by name, as though her voice alone must + suffice to bring him back to life and consciousness. Instinctively she + unfastened his doublet at the neck, and sought to draw it away that she + might see the nature of his hurt and staunch the wound if possible, but + her strength ebbed away from her, and she abandoned her task, unable to do + more than murmur his name. + </p> + <p> + “Crispin, Crispin, Crispin!” + </p> + <p> + She stooped and kissed the white, clammy forehead, then his lips, and as + she did so a tremor ran through her, and he opened his eyes. A moment they + looked dull and lifeless, then they waxed questioning. + </p> + <p> + A second ago these two had stood in anger with the width of the room + betwixt them; now, in a flash, he found his head on her lap, her lips on + his. How came he there? What meant it? + </p> + <p> + “Crispin, Crispin,” she cried, “thank God you did but swoon!” + </p> + <p> + Then the awakening of his soul came swift upon the awakening of his body. + He lay there, oblivious of his wound, oblivious of his mission, oblivious + of his son. He lay with senses still half dormant and comprehension + dulled, but with a soul alert he lay, and was supremely happy with a + happiness such as he had never known in all his ill-starred life. + </p> + <p> + In a feeble voice he asked: + </p> + <p> + “Why did you run away?” + </p> + <p> + “Let us forget it,” she answered softly. + </p> + <p> + “Nay—tell me first.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought—I thought—” she stammered; then, gathering courage, + “I thought you did not really care, that you made a toy of me,” said she. + “When they told me that you sat at dice with a gentleman from London I was + angry at your neglect. If you loved me, I told myself, you would not have + used me so, and left me to mope alone.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment Crispin let his grey eyes devour her blushing face. Then he + closed them and pondered what she had said, realization breaking upon him + now like a great flood. The light came to him in one blinding yet + all-illuming flash. A hundred things that had puzzled him in the last two + days grew of a sudden clear, and filled him with a joy unspeakable. He + dared scarce believe that he was awake, and Cynthia by him—that he + had indeed heard aright what she had said. How blind he had been, how + nescient of himself! + </p> + <p> + Then, as his thoughts travelled on to the source of the misapprehension he + remembered his son, and the memory was like an icy hand upon his temples + that chilled him through and through. Lying there with eyes still closed + he groaned. Happiness was within his grasp at last. Love might be his + again did he but ask it, and the love of as pure and sweet a creature as + ever God sent to chasten a man's life. A great tenderness possessed him. A + burning temptation to cast to the winds his plighted word, to make a mock + of faith, to deride honour, and to seize this woman for his own. She loved + him he knew it now; he loved her—the knowledge had come as suddenly + upon him. Compared with this what could his faith, his word, his honour + give him? What to him, in the face of this, was that paltry fellow, his + son, who had spurned him! + </p> + <p> + The hardest fight he ever fought, he fought it there, lying supine upon + the ground, his head in her lap. + </p> + <p> + Had he fought it out with closed eyes, perchance honour and his plighted + word had won the day; but he opened them, and they met Cynthia's. + </p> + <p> + A while they stayed thus; the hungry glance of his grey eyes peering into + the clear blue depths of hers; and in those depths his soul was drowned, + his honour stifled. + </p> + <p> + “Cynthia,” he cried, “God pity me, I love you!” And he swooned again. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVI. TO FRANCE + </h2> + <p> + That cry, which she but half understood, was still ringing in her ears, + when the door was of a sudden flung open, and across the threshold a very + daintily arrayed young gentleman stepped briskly, the expostulating + landlord following close upon his heels. + </p> + <p> + “I tell thee, lying dog,” he cried, “I saw him ride into the yard, and, + 'fore George, he shall give me the chance of mending my losses. Be off to + your father, you Devil's natural.” + </p> + <p> + Cynthia looked up in alarm, whereupon that merry blood catching sight of + her, halted in some confusion at what he saw. + </p> + <p> + “Rat me, madam,” he cried, “I did not know—I had not looked to—” + He stopped, and remembering at last his manners he made her a low bow. + </p> + <p> + “Your servant, madam,” said he, “your servant Harry Foster.” + </p> + <p> + She gazed at him, her eyes full of inquiry, but said nothing, whereat the + pretty gentleman plucked awkwardly at his ruffles and wished himself + elsewhere. + </p> + <p> + “I did not know, madam, that your husband was hurt.” + </p> + <p> + “He is not my husband, sir,” she answered, scarce knowing what she said. + </p> + <p> + “Gadso!” he ejaculated. “Yet you ran away from him?” + </p> + <p> + Her cheeks grew crimson. + </p> + <p> + “The door, sir, is behind you.” + </p> + <p> + “So, madam, is that thief the landlord,” he made answer, no whit abashed. + “Come hither, you bladder of fat, the gentleman is hurt.” + </p> + <p> + Thus courteously summoned, the landlord shuffled forward, and Mr. Foster + begged Cynthia to allow him with the fellow's aid to see to the + gentleman's wound. Between them they laid Crispin on a couch, and the town + spark went to work with a dexterity little to have been expected from his + flippant exterior. He dressed the wound, which was in the shoulder and not + in itself of a dangerous character, the loss of blood it being that had + brought some gravity to the knight's condition. They propped his head upon + a pillow, and presently he sighed and, opening his eyes, complained of + thirst, and was manifestly surprised at seeing the coxcomb turned leech. + </p> + <p> + “I came in search of you to pursue our game,” Foster explained when they + had ministered to him, “and, 'fore George, I am vastly grieved to find you + in this condition.” + </p> + <p> + “Pish, sir, my condition is none so grievous—a scratch, no more, and + were my heart itself pierced the knowledge that I have gained—” He + stopped short. “But there, sir,” he added presently, “I am grateful beyond + words for your timely ministration, and if to my debt you will add that of + leaving me awhile to rest, I shall appreciate it.” + </p> + <p> + His glance met Cynthia's and he smiled. The host coughed significantly, + and shuffled towards the door. But Master Foster made no shift to move; + but stood instead beside Galliard, though in apparent hesitation. + </p> + <p> + “I should like a word with you ere I go,” he said at length. Then turning + and perceiving the landlord standing by the door in an attitude of + eloquent waiting: “Take yourself off,” he cried to him. “Crush me, may not + one gentleman say a word to another without being forced to speak into + your inquisitive ears as well? You will forgive my heat, madam, but, God + a'mercy, that greasy rascal tries me sorely.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, sir,” he resumed, when the host was gone. “I stand thus: I have lost + to you to-day a sum of money which, though some might account + considerable, is in itself no more than a trifle. + </p> + <p> + “I am, however, greatly exercised at the loss of certain trinkets which + have to me a peculiar value, and which, to be frank, I staked in a moment + of desperation. I had hoped, sir, to retrieve my losses o'er a friendly + main this evening, for I have still to stake a coach and four horses—as + noble a set of beasts as you'll find in England, aye rat me. Your wound, + sir, renders it impossible for me to ask you to give yourself the fatigue + of obliging me. I come, then, to propose that you return me those trinkets + against my note of hand for the amount that was staked on them. I am well + known in town, sir,” he added hurriedly, “and you need have no anxiety.” + </p> + <p> + Crispin stopped him with a wave of the hand. + </p> + <p> + “I have none, sir, in that connexion, and I am willing to do as you + suggest.” He thrust his hand into his pocket, and drew forth the rings, + the brooch and the ear-ring he had won. “Here, sir, are your trinkets.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” cried Mr. Foster, thrown into some confusion by Galliard's + unquestioning generosity, “I am indebted to you. Rat me, sir, I am indeed. + You shall have my note of hand on the instant. How much shall we say?” + </p> + <p> + “One moment, Mr. Foster,” said Crispin, an idea suddenly occurring to him. + “You mentioned horses. Are they fresh?” + </p> + <p> + “As June roses.” + </p> + <p> + “And you are returning to London, are you not?” + </p> + <p> + “I am.” + </p> + <p> + “When do you wish to proceed?” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, then, sir, I have a proposal to make which will remove the need of + your note of hand. Lend me your horses, sir, to reach Harwich. I wish to + set out at once!” + </p> + <p> + “But your wound?” cried Cynthia. “You are still faint.” + </p> + <p> + “Faint! Not I. I am awake and strong. My wound is no wound, for a scratch + may not be given that name. So there, sweetheart.” He laughed, and drawing + down her head, he whispered the words: “Your father.” Then turning again + to Foster. “Now, sir,” he continued, “there are four tolerable posthorses + of mine below, on which you can follow tomorrow to Harwich, there + exchanging them again for your own, which you shall find awaiting you, + stabled at the Garter Inn. For this service, to me of immeasurable value, + I will willingly cede those gewgaws to you.” + </p> + <p> + “But, rat me, sir,” cried Foster in bewilderment, “tis too generous—'pon + honour it is. I can't consent to it. No, rat me, I can't.” + </p> + <p> + “I have told you how great a boon you will confer. Believe me, sir, to me + it is worth twice, a hundred times the value of those trinkets.” + </p> + <p> + “You shall have my horses, sir, and my note of hand as well,” said Foster + firmly. + </p> + <p> + “Your note of hand is of no value to me, sir. I look to leave England + to-morrow, and I know not when I may return.” + </p> + <p> + Thus in the end it came about that the bargain was concluded. Cynthia's + maid was awakened and bidden to rise. The horses were harnessed to + Crispin's coach, and Crispin, leaning upon Harry Foster's arm, descended + and took his place within the carriage. + </p> + <p> + Leaving the London blood at the door of the Suffolk Arms, crushing, + burning, damning and ratting himself at Crispin's magnificence, they + rolled away through the night in the direction of Ipswich. + </p> + <p> + Ten o'clock in the morning beheld them at the door of the Garter Inn at + Harwich. But the jolting of the coach had so hardly used Crispin that he + had to be carried into the hostelry. He was much exercised touching the + Lady Jane and his inability to go down to the quay in quest of her, when + he was accosted by a burly, red-faced individual who bluntly asked him was + he called Sir Crispin Galliard. Ere he could frame an answer the man had + added that he was Thomas Jackson, master of the Lady Jane—at which + piece of good news Crispin felt like to shout for joy. + </p> + <p> + But his reflection upon his present position, when at last he lay in the + schooner's cabin, brought him the bitter reverse of pleasure. He had set + out to bring Cynthia to his son; he had pledged his honour to accomplish + it. How was he fulfilling his trust? In his despondency, during a moment + when alone, he cursed the knave that had wounded him for his clumsiness in + not having taken a lower aim when he fired, and thus solved him this ugly + riddle of life for all time. + </p> + <p> + Vainly did he strive to console himself and endeavour to palliate the + wrong he had done with the consideration that he was the man Cynthia + loved, and not his son; that his son was nothing to her, and that she + would never have accompanied him had she dreamt that he wooed her for + another. + </p> + <p> + No. The deed was foul, and rendered fouler still by virtue of those other + wrongs in whose extenuation it had been undertaken. For a moment he grew + almost a coward. He was on the point of bidding Master Jackson avoid + Calais and make some other port along the coast. But in a moment he had + scorned the craven argument of flight, and determined that come what might + he would face his son, and lay the truth before him, leaving him to judge + how strong fate had been. As he lay feverish and fretful in the vessel's + cabin, he came well-nigh to hating Kenneth; he remembered him only as a + poor, mean creature, now a bigot, now a fop, now a psalm-monger, now a + roysterer, but ever a hypocrite, ever a coward, and never such a man as he + could have taken pride in presenting as his offspring. + </p> + <p> + They had a fair wind, and towards evening Cynthia, who had been absent + from his side a little while, came to tell him that the coast of France + grew nigh. + </p> + <p> + His answer was a sigh, and when she chid him for it, he essayed a smile + that was yet more melancholy. For a second he was tempted to confide in + her; to tell her of the position in which he found himself and to lighten + his load by sharing it with her. But this he dared not do. Cynthia must + never know. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVII. THE AUBERGE DU SOLEIL + </h2> + <p> + In a room of the first floor of the Auberge du Soleil, at Calais, the host + inquired of Crispin if he were milord Galliard. At that question Crispin + caught his breath in apprehension, and felt himself turn pale. What it + portended, he guessed; and it stifled the hope that had been rising in him + since his arrival, and because he had not found his son awaiting him + either on the jetty or at the inn. He dared ask no questions, fearing that + the reply would quench that hope, which rose despite himself, and begotten + of a desire of which he was hardly conscious. + </p> + <p> + He sighed before replying, and passing his brown, nervous hand across his + brow, he found it moist. + </p> + <p> + “My name, M. l'hote, is Crispin Galliard. What news have you for me?” + </p> + <p> + “A gentleman—a countryman of milord's—has been here these + three days awaiting him.” + </p> + <p> + For a little while Crispin sat quite still, stripped of his last rag of + hope. Then suddenly bracing himself, he sprang up, despite his weakness. + </p> + <p> + “Bring him to me. I will see him at once.” + </p> + <p> + “Tout-a-l'heure, monsieur,” replied the landlord. “At the moment he is + absent. He went out to take the air a couple of hours ago, and is not yet + returned.” + </p> + <p> + “Heaven send he has walked into the sea!” Crispin broke out passionately. + Then as passionately he checked himself. “No, no, my God—not that! I + meant not that.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur will sup?” + </p> + <p> + “At once, and let me have lights.” The host withdrew, to return a moment + later with a couple of lighted tapers, which he set upon the table. + </p> + <p> + As he was retiring, a heavy step sounded on the stair, accompanied by the + clank of a scabbard against the baluster. + </p> + <p> + “Here comes milord's countryman,” the landlord announced. + </p> + <p> + And Crispin, looking up in apprehension, saw framed in the doorway the + burly form of Harry Hogan. + </p> + <p> + He sat bolt upright, staring as though he beheld an apparition. With a sad + smile, Hogan advanced, and set his hand affectionately upon Galliard's + shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Welcome to France, Crispin,” said he. “If not him whom you looked to + find, you have at least a loyal friend to greet you.” + </p> + <p> + “Hogan!” gasped the knight. “What make you here? How came you here? Where + is Jocelyn?” + </p> + <p> + The Irishman looked at him gravely for a moment, then sighed and sank down + upon a chair. “You have brought the lady?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “She is here. She will be with us presently.” + </p> + <p> + Hogan groaned and shook his grey head sorrowfully. + </p> + <p> + “But where is Jocelyn?” cried Galliard again, and his haggard face looked + very wan and white as he turned it inquiringly upon his companion. “Why is + he not here?” + </p> + <p> + “I have bad news.” + </p> + <p> + “Bad news?” muttered Crispin, as though he understood not the meaning of + the words. “Bad news?” he repeated musingly. Then bracing himself, “What + is this news?” + </p> + <p> + “And you have brought the lady too!” Hogan complained. “Faith, I had hoped + that you had failed in that at least.” + </p> + <p> + “Sdeath, Harry,” Crispin exclaimed. “Will you tell me the news?” + </p> + <p> + Hogan pondered a moment. Then: + </p> + <p> + “I will relate the story from the very beginning,” said he. “Some four + hours after your departure from Waltham) my men brought in the malignant + we were hunting. I dispatched my sergeant and the troop forthwith to + London with the prisoner, keeping just two troopers with me. An hour or so + later a coach clattered into the yard, and out of it stepped a short, lean + man in black, with a very evil face and a crooked eye, who bawled out that + he was Joseph Ashburn of Castle Marleigh, a friend of the Lord General's, + and that he must have horses on the instant to proceed upon his journey to + London. I was in the yard at the time, and hearing the full announcement I + guessed what his business in London was. He entered the inn to refresh + himself and I followed him. In the common room the first man his eyes + lighted on was your son. He gasped at sight of him, and when he had + recovered his breath he let fly as round a volley of blasphemy as ever I + heard from the lips of a Puritan. When that was over, “Fool,” he yells, + “what make you here?” The lad stammered and grew confused. At last—“I + was detained here,” says he. “Detained!” thunders the other, “and by + whom?” “By my father, you murdering villain!” was the hot answer. + </p> + <p> + “At that Master Ashburn grows very white and very evil-looking. “So,” he + says, in a playful voice, “you have learnt that, have you? Well, by God! + the lesson shall profit neither you nor that rascal your father. But I'll + begin with you, you cur.” And with that he seizes a jug of ale that stood + on the table, and empties it over the boy's face. Soul of my body! The lad + showed such spirit then as I had never looked to find in him. “Outside,” + yells he, tugging at his sword with one hand, and pointing to the door + with the other. “Outside, you hound, where I can kill you!” Ashburn + laughed and cursed him, and together they flung past me into the yard. The + place was empty at the moment, and there, before the clash of their blades + had drawn interference, the thing was over—and Ashburn had sent his + sword through Jocelyn's heart.” + </p> + <p> + Hogan paused, and Crispin sat very still and white, his soul in torment. + </p> + <p> + “And Ashburn?” he asked presently, in a voice that was singularly hoarse + and low. “What became of him? Was he not arrested?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Hogan grimly, “he was not arrested. He was buried. Before he + had wiped his blade I had stepped up to him and accused him of murdering a + beardless boy. I remembered the reckoning he owed you, I remembered that + he had sought to send you to your death; I saw the boy's body still warm + and bleeding upon the ground, and I struck him with my knuckles on the + mouth. Like the cowardly ruffian he was, he made a pass at me with his + sword before I had got mine out. I avoided it narrowly, and we set to + work. + </p> + <p> + “People rushed in and would have stopped us, but I cursed them so whilst I + fenced, swearing to kill any man that came between us, that they held off + and waited. I didn't keep them overlong. I was no raw youngster fresh from + the hills of Scotland. I put the point of my sword through Joseph + Ashburn's throat within a minute of our engaging. + </p> + <p> + “It was then as I stood in that shambles and looked down upon my handiwork + that I recalled in what favour Master Ashburn was held by the Parliament, + and I grew sick to think of what the consequences might be. To avoid them + I got me there and then to horse, and rode in a straight line for + Greenwich, hoping to find the Lady Jane still there. But my messenger had + already sent her to Harwich for you. I was well ahead of possible pursuit, + and so I pushed on to Dover, and thence I crossed, arriving here three + days ago.” + </p> + <p> + Crispin rose and stepped up to Hogan. “The last time you came to me after + killing a man, Harry, I was of some service to you. You shall find me no + less useful now. You will come to Paris with me?” + </p> + <p> + “But the lady?” gasped Hogan, amazed at Crispin's lack of thought for her. + </p> + <p> + “I hear her step upon the stairs. Leave me now, Harry, but as you go, + desire the landlord to send for a priest. The lady remains.” + </p> + <p> + One look of utter bewilderment did Hogan bestow upon Sir Crispin, and for + once his glib, Irish tongue could shape no other words than: + </p> + <p> + “Soul of my body!” + </p> + <p> + He wrung Crispin's hand, and in a state of ineffable perplexity he hurried + from the room to do what was required of him. + </p> + <p> + For a moment Crispin stood by the window, and looking out into the night + he thanked God from his heart for his solution of the monstrous riddle + that had been set him. + </p> + <p> + Then the rustle of a gown drew his attention, and he swung round to find + Cynthia smiling upon him from the threshold. + </p> + <p> + He advanced to meet her, and setting his hands upon her shoulders, he held + her at arm's length, looking down into her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Cynthia, my Cynthia!” he cried. And she, breaking past the barrier of his + grasp, nestled up to him with a sigh of sweet and unalloyed content. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Tavern Knight, by Rafael Sabatini + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TAVERN KNIGHT *** + +***** This file should be named 3030-h.htm or 3030-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/0/3/3030/ + +Produced by Polly Stratton, and David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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