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diff --git a/3030.txt b/3030.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2e54281 --- /dev/null +++ b/3030.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8670 @@ +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 + +Posting Date: February 28, 2009 [EBook #3030] +Release Date: January, 2002 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TAVERN KNIGHT *** + + + + +Produced by Polly Stratton + + + + + +THE TAVERN KNIGHT + + +By Rafael Sabatini + + + +CONTENTS + + I. ON THE MARCH + + II. ARCADES AMBO + + III. THE LETTER + + IV. AT THE SIGN OF THE MITRE + + V. AFTER WORCESTER FIELD + + VI. COMPANIONS IN MISFORTUNE + + VII. THE TAVERN KNIGHT'S STORY + + VIII. THE TWISTED BAR + + IX. THE BARGAIN + + X. THE ESCAPE + + XI. THE ASHBURNS + + XII. THE HOUSE THAT WAS ROLAND MARLEIGH'S + + XIII. THE METAMORPHOSIS OF KENNETH + + XIV. THE HEART OF CYNTHIA ASHBURN + + XV. JOSEPH'S RETURN + + XVI. THE RECKONING + + XVII. JOSEPH DRIVES A BARGAIN + + XVIII. COUNTER-PLOT + + XIX. THE INTERRUPTED JOURNEY + + XX. THE CONVERTED HOGAN + + XXI. THE MESSAGE KENNETH BORE + + XXII. SIR CRISPIN'S UNDERTAKING + + XXIII. GREGORY'S ATTRITION + + XXIV. THE WOOING OF CYNTHIA + + XXV. CYNTHIA'S FLIGHT + + XXVI. TO FRANCE + + XXVII. THE AUBERGINE DU SOLEIL + + + + + +THE TAVERN KNIGHT + + + + +CHAPTER I. ON THE MARCH + +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. + +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: + + 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! + +The lad started forward with something akin to a shiver. + +"Have done," he cried, in a voice of loathing, "or, if croak you must, +choose a ditty less foul!" + +"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. + +"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!" + +There was scorn unutterable on the lad's face as he turned aside. + +"When I joined Middleton's horse and accepted service under you, I held +you to be at least a gentleman," was his daring rejoinder. + +For an instant that dangerous light gleamed again from his companion's +eye. Then, as before, the lids drooped, and, as before, he laughed. + +"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--" + +"Oh, have done!" broke in the youth impetuously. "Suffer me to leave +you, Sir Crispin, to your bottle, your croaking, and your memories." + +"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." + +And with that Sir Crispin Galliard lay back in his chair once more, and +took up the thread of his interrupted song + + 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-- + +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-- + +"Open, Cris! Open, for the love of God!" + +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. + +"Well, my master," quoth Galliard, "for what do you wait?" + +"To learn your wishes, sir," was the answer sullenly delivered. + +"My wishes! Rat me, there's one without whose wishes brook less waiting! +Open, fool!" + +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-- + +"Hide me somewhere, Cris," he panted--his accent proclaiming his Irish +origin. "My God, hide me, or I'm a dead man this night!" + +"'Slife, Hogan! What is toward? Has Cromwell overtaken us?" + +"Cromwell, quotha? Would to Heaven 'twere no worse! I've killed a man!" + +"If he's dead, why run?" + +The Irishman made an impatient gesture. + +"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?" + +"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." + +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. + +"To table," he said laconically. + +But the boy, comprehending what was required of him, drew back at sight +of those cards as one might shrink from a thing unclean. + +"Never!" he began. "I'll not defile--" + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +"Sirs, why this ado? Hath the Sultan Oliver descended upon us?" + +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. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"Nay, he has done the killing." + +"That I can better understand. 'Tis not the first time, I'll be sworn." + +"But it will be the last, Sir Crispin." + +"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. + +"We thought," faltered the young officer, "that--that perchance you +would assist us by--" + +"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!" + +The ensign's cheeks grew crimson under the sting of that veiled insult. + +"There are some, Sir Crispin, that have yet another name for you." + +"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." + +"A moment, Sir Crispin. We must search this house. He is believed to +have come this way." + +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." + +"Twill not suffice," returned the officer doggedly. "We must satisfy +ourselves." + +"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!" + +Before that hurricane of passion the ensign recoiled, despite himself. + +"I will appeal to General Montgomery," he threatened. + +"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!" + +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. + +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. + +There was a curious smile on Crispin's face as he walked slowly to the +table, and resumed his seat. + +"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." + +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. + +"You lied to them," he said at last. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Thus an hour wore itself out during which poor Hogan sat above, alone +with his anxiety and unsavoury thoughts. + + + + +CHAPTER II. ARCADES AMBO + + +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. + +"Master Stewart," said he, "it grows late, and I doubt me you would be +abed. Give you good night!" + +The lad rose. A moment he paused, hesitating, then-- + +"To-morrow, Sir Crispin--" he began. But Crispin cut him short. + +"Leave to-morrow till it dawn, my friend. Give you good night. Take one +of those noisome tapers with you, and go." + +In sullen silence the boy took up one of the candle-bearing bottles and +passed out through the door leading to the stairs. + +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. + +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. + +Upstairs he found the Irishman seated in dejection upon his bed, +awaiting him. + +"Soul of my body!" cried Hogan ruefully, "I was never nearer being +afraid in my life." + +Crispin laughed softly for answer, and besought of him the tale of what +had passed. + +"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!" + +"An ugly tale," was Crispin's sour comment. + +"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.' + +"But not to slay, Hogan!" + +"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." + +For a moment Crispin stood frowning, then his brow cleared, as though he +had put the matter from him. + +"Well, well--since he's dead, there's an end to it." + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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." + +"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--" + +"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." + +"And what may your plans be?" asked Crispin. + +"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." + +Sir Crispin fell to pondering. Noting this, and imagining that he +guessed aright the reason: + +"I take it, Cris," he put in, keenly glancing at the other, "that you +are much of my mind?" + +"Maybe I am," replied Crispin carelessly. + +"Why, then," cried Hogan, "need we part company?" + +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: + +"You forget, Harry." + +"Not so! Surely on Cromwell's side your object--" + +"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." + +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. + +"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--" + +"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. + +"Danger? To me?" echoed Crispin. + +"Aye--for having harboured me. That whelp of Montgomery's Foot suspects +you." + +"Suspects? Am I a man of straw to be overset by a breath of suspicion?" + +"There is your lieutenant, Kenneth Stewart." + +"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." + +Hogan rose with a sigh. + +"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." + +"We must find you clothes more fitting than these--a coat more staid and +better attuned to the Puritan part you are to play." + +"Where have you such a coat?" + +"My lieutenant has. He affects the godly black, from a habit taken in +that Presbyterian Scotland of his." + +"But I am twice his bulk!" + +"Better a tight coat to your back than a tight rope to your neck, Harry. +Wait." + +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. + +"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. + +"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." + +"Pluck that feather from your hat," said Crispin. + +Hogan obeyed him with a sigh. + +"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?" + +"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." + +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. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER III. THE LETTER + + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + +DEAR KENNETH, + +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. + + GREGORY ASHBURN + +Twice Crispin read the letter through. Then with set teeth and straining +eyes he sat lost in thought. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. AT THE SIGN OF THE MITRE + + +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. + +The scene of this happening--leastways of that which led to it--was The +Mitre Inn, in the High Street of Worcester. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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!'" + +"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." + +There was a roar of voices as Faversham ended, and around that table +"The Tavern Knight" was for some minutes the only toast. + +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. + +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. + +"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!" + +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. + +"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?" + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +But ere he could so much as unfold it, a voice rang harsh and +imperative: + +"Hold!" + +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. + +"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. + +But as he now advanced, the coldness of his bearing and the forbidding +set of his face froze them into silence. + +"Give me that letter," he demanded sternly of Tyler. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +But as he reached the palace there was a quick step behind him, and a +hand fell upon his arm. He turned. + +"Ah, 'tis you, Kenneth," he muttered, and would have passed on, but the +boy's hand took him by the sleeve. + +"Sir Crispin," said he, "I came to thank you." + +"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. + +"You are forgetting the letter, Sir Crispin," he ventured, and he held +out his hand to receive it. + +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: + +"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." + +"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. + +"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." + +"Assuredly I shall." + +"But, sir--" + +"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." + +"Sir Crispin," cried the boy, his voice quavering with passion, "while I +live you shall not read that letter!" + +"Hoity-toity, sir! What words! What heroics! And yet you would have me +believe this paper innocent?" + +"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. + +"Continue, sir," Galliard requested coldly. "Instead?" + +"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?" + +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. + +"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. + + + + +CHAPTER V. AFTER WORCESTER FIELD + + +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." + +"Sirs," quoth he, "a fair beginning to a fair day. God send the evening +find us as merry." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Charles had flung himself from his charger and climbed the obstruction, +and in this he was presently followed by others, amongst whom was +Crispin. + +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. + +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. + +"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!" + +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. + +While he was still urging them, Crispin unceremoniously seized his +bridle. + +"Will you stand here until you are taken, sire?" he cried. "Leave them, +and look to your safety." + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +"Hasten, sire," he exclaimed, "here is a portion of Colonel's Pride's +troop." + +The King looked round, and at sight of the Parliamentarians, "It is +ended," he muttered despairingly. But already Crispin had sprung from +his horse. + +"Dismount, sire," he roared, and he assisted him so vigorously as to +appear to drag him out of the saddle. + +"Which way?" demanded Charles, looking helplessly from left to right. +"Which way?" + +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. + +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. + +"And now?" demanded Charles, a note almost of reproach in his voice. + +"And now begone, sire," returned the knight. "Begone ere they come." + +"Begone?" echoed Charles, in amazement. "But whither, sir? Whither and +how?" + +His last words were almost drowned in the din without, as the Roundheads +pulled up before the house. + +"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." + +As he spoke a violent blow shook the door. + +"Quick, Your Majesty," he implored, in a frenzy. + +Charles moved to depart, then paused. "But you, sir? Do you not come +with me?" + +Crispin stamped his foot, and turned a face livid with impatience upon +his King. In that moment all distinction of rank lay forgotten. + +"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." + +And, bending his knee, Crispin brushed the royal hand with his hot lips. + +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. + +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!" + +But ere he had taken three strides the point of Crispin's tuck-sword +gave him pause. + +"Halt! You cannot pass this way." + +"Back, son of Moab!" was the Roundhead's retort. "Hinder me not, at your +peril." + +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. + +"Back, or I cut you down," threatened the Roundhead. "I am seeking the +malignant Stuart." + +"If by those blasphemous words you mean his sacred Majesty, learn that +he is where you will never be--in God's keeping." + +"Presumptuous hound," stormed the lad, "giveway!" + +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. + +"You would have it so, rash fool," he deprecated. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +At a glance Crispin caught the situation; but the old Puritan's grief +left him unmoved. + +"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!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Fulminated by that terrific stroke, the man reeled back into the arms of +another who advanced. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Well, sirs," he mocked them presently. "How long am I to await your +pleasure?" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Like one possessed he struggled then, for the sheer lust of striving; +but they that held him gripped effectively. + +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. + +"Disarm the dog!" cried Pride. "Disarm and truss him hand and foot." + +"Sirs, you need not," he answered, gasping. "I yield me. Take my sword. +I'll do your bidding." + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. COMPANIONS IN MISFORTUNE + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Whom have we here?" he inquired at length, his scrutiny having told him +nothing. + +"One whose offence is too heinous to have earned him a soldier's death, +my lord," answered Pride. + +"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--" + +"Have done!" cried Cromwell at length, stamping his foot. "Peace, or +I'll have you gagged. Now, Colonel, let us hear your accusation." + +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. + +The Lord General's answer took expression in a form that was little +puritanical. Then, checking himself: + +"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." + +"So he has escaped!" cried Crispin. "Now, God be praised!" + +Cromwell stared at him blankly for a moment, then: + +"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." + +"I shall at least hang in good company," said Crispin pleasantly, "and +for that, sir, I give you thanks." + +"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." + +"But, my lord," exclaimed Pride, advancing. + +"What now?" + +Crispin caught not his answer, but his half-whispered words were earnest +and pleading. Cromwell shook his head. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Who are you?" came a dull voice--a voice that was eloquent of misery. + +"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." + +"Would to Heaven you had not!" was the doleful answer. "What make you +here?" + +"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." + +The lad came forward into the light, and eyed Sir Crispin sorrowfully. + +"We are companions in misfortune, then." + +"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." + +"Pleasantly?" + +"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!" + +"Merciful Heaven! Have you no thought for your end?" + +"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!" + +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. + +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. + +"Ah, well," said he, "we will hang, and there's the end of it." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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: + +"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." + +"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. + +"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." + +Again the lad shuddered. + +"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?" + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. THE TAVERN KNIGHT'S STORY + + +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. + +"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: + +"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." + +"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." + +"'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: + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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." + +Sir Crispin paused and a sigh escaped him, followed by a laugh of +bitterness. + +"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." + +He laughed again, and again he fell a-musing, till Kenneth's voice +aroused him. + +"Your story, sir." + +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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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." + +Kenneth shuddered. + +"My God, how horrible!" he cried. "But you were avenged, Sir Crispin," +he added eagerly; "you were avenged?" + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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! + +"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. + +"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. + +"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?" + +"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. + +"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." + +There was a spell of silence as the two men sat, both breathing heavily +in the gloom that enveloped them. At length: + +"You have heard my story, Kenneth," said Crispin. + +"I have heard, Sir Crispin, and God knows I pity you." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"It is not mine to judge, Sir Crispin. I pity you with all my heart," +the lad replied, not ungently. + +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?" + +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: + +"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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +And throwing himself back upon the bed, Crispin sought comfort in sleep. +His limbs were heavy and his heart was sick. + +"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." + +"If the Church teaches no better I rejoice that I was no churchman," +grunted Crispin. + +"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." + +Sir Crispin laughed. He judged the tone rather than the words, and it +rang hollow. + +"Where are your wits, O casuist?" he cried mockingly. "Where are your +doctrines? 'Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord!' Pah!" + +And with that final ejaculation, pregnant with contempt and bitterness, +he composed himself to sleep. + +He was accursed he told himself. He must die alone, as he had lived. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. THE TWISTED BAR + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +Still half asleep, and blinking like an owl, he sat up. + +"I have always held burnt sack to be well enough, but--" + +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: + +"What's o'clock?" he asked. + +"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." + +"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." + +"I come," returned the other in his droning voice, "to call upon thee to +repent." + +"Plague me not," answered Crispin, with a yawn. "I would sleep." + +"Soundly enough shalt thou sleep in a few hours' time. Bethink thee, +miserable sinner, of thy soul." + +"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." + +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. + +"Vouchsafe, O Lord," he prayed, "to touch yet the callous heart of this +obdurate, incorrigible sinner, this wicked, perjured and blasphemous +malignant, whose--" + +He got no further. Crispin was upon his feet, his harsh countenance +thrust into the very face of the minister; his eyes ablaze. + +"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." + +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. + +"I pray you go," he said. "But if you would perform an act of charity, +leave your lanthorn. It will be dark enough hereafter." + +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. + +"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." + +"Sir," quoth Crispin wearily, "you would outtalk a woman." + +"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. + +Crispin yawned noisily when he was gone, and stretched himself. Then +pointing to the pallet: + +"Come, lad, 'tis your turn," said he. + +Kenneth shivered. "I could not sleep," he cried. "I could not." + +"As you will." And shrugging his shoulders, Crispin sat down on the edge +of the bed. + +"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." + +He stretched himself upon the bed, and presently he slept again. + +It was Kenneth who next awakened him. He opened his eyes to find the lad +shivering as with an ague. His face was ashen. + +"Now, what's amiss? Oddslife, what ails you?" he cried. + +"Is there no way, Sir Crispin? Is there naught you can do?" wailed the +youth. + +Instantly Galliard sat up. + +"Poor lad, does the thought of the rope affright you?" + +Kenneth bowed his head in silence. + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +"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." + +"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!" + +"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." + +"Think, Sir Crispin, think," cried the boy feverishly. + +"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?" + +At the very thought of it the lad trembled, noting which Sir Crispin +laughed softly. + +"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." + +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. + +"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!" + +He walked back to the table and set the lanthorn down. In a tremble, +Kenneth watched his every movement, but spoke no word. + +"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." + +"You mean to leap?" gasped the lad. + +"Into the river. It is the only way." + +"O God, I dare not. It is a fearsome drop." + +"Longer, I confess, than they'll give you in an hour's time, if you +remain; but it may lead elsewhere." + +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. + +"I'll try it," he muttered with a gulp. Then suddenly clutching +Galliard's arm, he pointed to the window. + +"What ails you now?" quoth Crispin testily. + +"The dawn, Sir Crispin. The dawn." + +Crispin looked, and there, like a gash in the blackness of the heavens, +he beheld a streak of grey. + +"Quick, Sir Crispin; there is no time to lose. The minister said he +would return at daybreak." + +"Let him come," answered Galliard grimly, as he moved towards the +casement. + +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. + +"It gives," he panted at last. "It gives." + +He paused in his efforts, and withdrew his hands. + +"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." + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Heard you aught?" he asked. + +"Aye," answered Kenneth, in a strangled voice, "I heard something like a +shot out there." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"The door, Kenneth!" he commanded, in a whisper. "Close the door!" + +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. + +"Someone comes!" gasped Kenneth suddenly. "Someone comes, Sir Crispin!" +he repeated, shaking his hands in a frenzy. + +Galliard listened. Steps were approaching. The soldier heard them also, +and renewed his efforts. Then Crispin spoke. + +"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!" + +The steps came nearer. The lad had obeyed him, and they were in +darkness. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"Your hour is at hand!" he announced. + +"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. + +"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--" + +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. + +"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. + +"Bravely done, boy!" he cried, almost mirthfully. "Cling to him, +Kenneth; cling to him a second yet!" + +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. + +"Hold fast, lad," he cried, encouraging Kenneth, "hold him yet a moment, +and I will relieve you!" + +He reached the lanthorn at last, and pulling aside the cloak, he lifted +the light and set it upon the table. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. THE BARGAIN + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Release him, Kenneth," said Crispin shortly. + +"He struggles still." + +"Release him, I say," Galliard repeated, and stooping he caught the +lad's wrist and compelled him to abandon his hold. + +"He will cry out," exclaimed Kenneth, in apprehension. + +"Not he," laughed Crispin. "Leastways, not yet awhile. Observe the +wretch." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"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. + +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? + +"Your hand might slip, sir," he whined again. + +"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." + +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. + +"But have a care," he added, "or you shall taste the joys of the +Paradise you preach of. Come, sir parson; afoot!" + +A prey to a fear that compelled unquestioning obedience, the fellow rose +with alacrity. + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +"When they come for you," answered the parson meekly. + +"And how soon, O prophet, will they come?" + +"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. + +"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?" + +"None that I can imagine. The only other occupants of the house are a +party of half a dozen troopers in the guardroom below." + +"Where is the Lord General?" + +"Away--I know not where. But he will be here at sunrise." + +"And the sentry that was at our door--is he not to a changed 'twixt this +and hanging-time?" + +"I cannot say for sure, but I think not. The guard was relieved just +before I came." + +"And the men in the guardroom--answer me truthfully, O Elijah--what +manner of watch are they keeping?" + +"Alas, sir, they have drunk enough this night to put a rakehelly +Cavalier to shame. I was but exhorting them." + +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. + +"Will you swear by this book that you have answered nothing but the +truth?" + +Without a moment's hesitation the parson pledged his oath, that, to the +best of his belief, he had answered accurately. + +"That is well, sir. And now, though it grieve me to cause you some +slight discomfort, I must ensure your silence, my friend." + +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. + +"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." + +"I did, Sir Crispin." + +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-- + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Sir Crispin," he whispered, plucking at his sleeve; "Sir Crispin." + +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. + +"I was thinking how it might be accomplished," he said. + +"There is but one way," cried the lad. + +"On the contrary, there are two, and I wish to choose carefully." + +"If you delay your choice much longer, none will be left you," cried +Kenneth impatiently. + +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. + +"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." + +"Sir," exclaimed Kenneth, well-nigh beside himself, "if you come not +with me, I go alone!" + +"Whither?" asked Crispin dryly. + +"Out of this." + +Galliard bowed slightly. + +"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." + +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: + +"Come, Sir Crispin!" cried the lad. "Are you ready?" + +Galliard wheeled sharply round. + +"How? Not gone yet?" said he sardonically. + +"I dare not," the lad confessed. "I dare not go alone." + +Galliard laughed softly; then suddenly waxed grave. + +"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." + +"Once already have I answered you that it is so." + +"And pray, are you still of the same mind?" + +"I am, I am! Anything, Sir Crispin; anything so that you come away!" + +"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?" + +"Oh, I acknowledge it!" + +"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." + +"You have my promise!" cried the lad. + +"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." + +"I promise." + +Galliard bowed his head; then, turning, he took the Bible from the +table. + +"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." + +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. + +"Resolve yourself," he exclaimed abruptly. "It grows light, and the time +for haste is come." + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Come," he said again, and led the way to the stairs, Kenneth tiptoeing +after him with wildly beating heart. + + + + +CHAPTER X. THE ESCAPE + + +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. + +"The Fates are kind, Kenneth," he whispered. "Those fools sit with +closed doors. Come." + +But Kenneth laid his hand upon Galliard's sleeve. "What if the door +should open as we pass?" + +"Someone will die," muttered Crispin back. "But pray God that it may +not. We must run the risk." + +"Is there no other way?" + +"Why, yes," returned Galliard sardonically, "we can linger here until we +are taken. But, oddslife, I'm not so minded. Come." + +And as he spoke he drew the lad along. + +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. + +"Back!" growled Galliard. "Back, man!" + +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. + +"Is all well?" came a voice, which Crispin recognized as Colonel +Pride's, followed by an affirmative reply from one of the soldiers. + +"Hath a minister visited the malignants?" + +"Master Toneleigh is with them even now." + +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. + +"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." + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +Then upon his ear fell the fierce whisper: "Come with me, and tread +lightly as you love your life." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"The window, Sir Crispin," cried Kenneth, in an excited whisper--"the +window!" + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"'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?" + +Kenneth tugged at the skirts of his doublet. "What now?" he inquired. + +"Now," said Crispin, "we'll leave by the window, if it please you." + +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. + +"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!" + + + + + +CHAPTER XI. THE ASHBURNS + + +Gregory Ashburn pushed back his chair and made shift to rise from the +table at which he and his brother had but dined. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Doth the lack of news trouble you?" he asked, glancing across the table +at his brother. + +Gregory rose without meeting that glance. + +"Truth to tell it does trouble me," he muttered. + +"And yet," quoth Joseph, "tis a natural thing enough. When battles are +fought it is not uncommon for men to die." + +Gregory crossed slowly to the window, and stared out at the trees of the +park which autumn was fast stripping. + +"If he were among the fallen--if he were dead then indeed the matter +would be at an end." + +"Aye, and well ended." + +"You forget Cynthia," Gregory reproved him. + +"Forget her? Not I, man. Listen." And he jerked his thumb in the +direction of the wainscot. + +To the two men in that rich chamber of Castle Marleigh was borne the +sound--softened by distance of a girlish voice merrily singing. + +Joseph laughed a cackle of contempt. + +"Is that the song of a maid whose lover comes not back from the wars?" +he asked. + +"But bethink you, Joseph, the child suspects not the possibility of his +having fallen." + +"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." + +"Cynthia is young--a child. She reasons not as you and I, nor seeks to +account for his absence." + +"Troubles not to account for it," Joseph amended. + +"Be that as it may," returned Gregory irritably, "I would I knew." + +"That which we do not know we may sometimes infer. I infer him to be +dead, and there's the end of it." + +"What if he should not be?" + +"Then, my good fool, he would be here." + +"It is unlike you, Joseph, to argue so loosely. What if he should be a +prisoner?" + +"Why, then, the plantations will do that which the battle hath left +undone. So that, dead or captive, you see it is all one." + +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. + +"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?" + +"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?" + +"God only knows." + +"Then leave it to Him," was the flippant answer; and Joseph drained his +glass. + +"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." + +"Plague take it," Joseph burst out. "Why all this ado? Why did you ever +loose that graceless whelp from his Scottish moor?" + +Gregory sighed with an air of resigned patience. + +"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." + +"I wait but to learn how." + +"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." + +Joseph made a gesture of impatience. + +"Can you not leave Fate alone?" + +"Think you I have no conscience, Joseph?" cried the other with sudden +vigour. + +"Pish! you are womanish." + +"Nay, Joseph, I am old. I am in the autumn of my days, and I would see +these two wed before I die." + +"And are damned for a croaking, maudlin' craven," added Joseph. "Pah! +You make me sick." + +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. + +"Joseph, you shall go to the Lord General." + +"Well," said Joseph weakly, "we will say that I go. But if Kenneth be a +prisoner, what then?" + +"You must beg his liberty from Cromwell. He will not refuse you." + +"Will he not? I am none so confident." + +"But you can make the attempt, and leastways we shall have some definite +knowledge of what has befallen the boy." + +"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." + +Gregory approached the table, and leaning his hand upon it: + +"Will you go?" he asked, squarely eyeing his brother. + +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. + +"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?" + +"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?" + +"Bethink you that we know not where he is. I may have to wander for +weeks o'er the face of England." + +"Will you go?" Gregory repeated. + +"Oh, a pox on it," broke out Joseph, rising suddenly. "I'll go since +naught else will quiet you. I'll start to-morrow." + +"Joseph, I am grateful. I shall be more grateful yet if you will start +to-day." + +"No, sink me, no." + +"Yes, sink me, yes," returned Gregory. "You must, Joseph." + +Joseph spoke of the wind again; the sky, he urged, was heavy with rain. +"What signifies a day?" he whined. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Why sit you there so glum," she cried, "whilst my uncle, they tell me, +is going on a journey?" + +Gregory was minded to put her feelings to the test. + +"Kenneth," he replied with significant emphasis, watching her closely. + +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. + +"What of him, father?" she asked, approaching. + +"Naught, and that's the rub. It is time we had news, and as none comes, +your uncle goes to seek it." + +"Think you that ill can have befallen him?" + +Gregory was silent a moment, weighing his answer. Then + +"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." + +Cynthia sighed, and moved towards the window. + +"Poor Kenneth," she murmured gently. "He may be wounded." + +"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. + +"The sky is heavy, father," said Cynthia from the window. "Poor uncle! +He will have rough weather for his journey." + +"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." + +Cynthia smiled upon him. + +"It is heroic of you, uncle." + +"There, there," he grumbled, "I shall do my best to find the laggard, +lest those pretty eyes should weep away their beauty." + +Gregory's glance reproved this sneer of Joseph's, whereupon Joseph drew +close to him: + +"Broken-hearted, is she not?" he muttered, to which Gregory returned no +answer. + +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: + +"Come, now," said he, "you see that matters are as I said." + +"And yet," replied Gregory sternly, "I hope to see you return with the +boy. It will be better so." + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. THE HOUSE THAT WAS ROLAND MARLEIGH'S + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Gregory was speaking, his hands resting upon Kenneth's shoulder. + +"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?" + +"Anon, sir; you shall learn anon. The story is a long one." + +"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. + +"I would have you know, sir," Crispin began, with some heat, when +Kenneth interrupted him. + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +Crispin breathed once more. Ashburn's scrutiny was explained. + +"The same, sir," he answered, with a smile and a fresh bow. "Your +servant, sir; and yours, madam." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Where do I lie to-night?" asked Crispin. + +"In the northern wing," answered Gregory with a hiccough. + +"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." + +"The King's chamber?" echoed Gregory, and his face showed the confused +struggles of his brain. "What know you of the King's chamber?" + +"That it faces the east and the sea, and that it is the chamber I love +best." + +"What can you know of it since, I take it, you have never seen it!" + +"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." + +"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. + +"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?" + +"He married our cousin," Gregory amended. "They were an ill-fated +family." + +"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." + +"You shall sleep where you list, sir," answered Gregory, and they rose. + +"Do you look to honour us long at Castle Marleigh, Sir Crispin?" was +Gregory's last question before separating from his guest. + +"Nay, sir, 'tis likely I shall go hence to-morrow," answered Crispin, +unmindful of what he said. + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +Gregory followed him with a dull, frightened eye. Galliard's halting, +thickly uttered words had sounded like a prophecy in his ears. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. THE METAMORPHOSIS OF KENNETH + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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?" + +"A faith," she laughed, "that is all outward symbols and naught besides; +all texts and mournings and nose-twangings." + +"Cynthia!" he exclaimed, in horror. + +"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?" + +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: + +"Would you rather," he cried hotly, "have me such a man as that?" + +"And, pray, why not?" she taunted him. "Leastways, you would then be a +man." + +"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." + +"And what, sir, would you sooner elect to be accounted?" + +"A gentleman, madam," he answered pompously. + +"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." + +"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." + +She looked him over with an eye of quiet scorn. + +"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." + +His handsome, weak face was red with fury. + +"Since that is so, madam," he choked, "I leave you to your swaggering, +ruffling Cavalier." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"What signify these fripperies?" she asked him, one day, "any more than +did your coat of decent black? Are these also outward symbols?" + +"You may take them for such, madam," he answered sulkily. "You liked me +not as I was--" + +"And I like you less as you are," she broke in. + +"Cynthia, you mock me," he cried angrily. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"Cynthia!" he cried. + +"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?" + +"By what right do you despise him?" he demanded, his brow dark. + +"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." + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +"Sir Crispin," she called, detaining him. He turned. + +"Your servant, Mistress Cynthia." + +"Are you afraid of me, Sir Crispin?" + +"Beauty, madam, is wont to inspire courage rather than fear," he +answered, with a smile. + +"That, sir, is an evasion, not an answer." + +"If read aright, Mistress Cynthia, it is also an answer." + +"That you do not fear me?" + +"It is not a habit of mine." + +"Why, then, have you avoided me these three days past?" + +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. + +"Because perhaps if I did not," he answered slowly, "you might come to +avoid me. I am a proud man, Mistress Cynthia." + +"Satan, sir, was proud, but his pride led him to perdition." + +"So indeed may mine," he answered readily, "since it leads me from you." + +"Nay, sir," she laughed, "you go from me willingly enough." + +"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." + +"Madam," she echoed, disregarding all else that he had said. "It is an +ugly word, and but a moment back you called me Cynthia." + +"Twas a liberty that methought my grey hairs warranted, and for which +you should have reproved me." + +"You have not grey hairs enough to warrant it, Sir Crispin," she +answered archly. "But what if even so I account it no liberty?" + +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. + +"I thank you for the honour." + +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: + +"Sir Crispin," said she, looking back at him over her shoulder, "I am +walking to the cliffs." + +Never was a man more plainly invited to become an escort; but he ignored +it. A sad smile crept into his harsh face. + +"I shall tell Kenneth if I see him," said he. + +At that she frowned. + +"But I do not want him," she protested. "Sooner would I go alone." + +"Why, then, madam, I'll tell nobody." + +Was ever man so dull? she asked herself. + +"There is a fine view from the cliffs," said she. + +"I have always thought so," he agreed. + +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: + +"Will you not come with me?" she asked at last, point-blank. + +"Why, yes, if you wish it," he answered without alacrity. + +"You may remain, sir." + +Her offended tone aroused him now to the understanding that he was +impolite. Contrite he stood beside her in a moment. + +"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." + +"By no means," she answered coldly. "I seek not the company of dull +fellows." And she was gone. + +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. + +"Fore George!" he muttered, "it is all that was wanting!" + +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. + +"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!" + +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. + +"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. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. THE HEART OF CYNTHIA ASHBURN + + +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: + +"Sir Crispin," she ventured timidly, "you are unhappy, are you not?" + +Startled by her words and the tone of them, Galliard turned his head +that he might observe her. + +"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?" + +She made a wry face in protest that he fenced with her. + +"You are happy, then?" she challenged him. + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"Mistress Cynthia," said he as though he had not heard her question, "I +would say a word to you concerning Kenneth." + +At that she turned upon him with a pout. + +"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." + +"To have little interest in a future husband augurs ill for the time +when he shall come to be your husband." + +"I thought that you, at least, understood me. Kenneth will never be +husband of mine, Sir Crispin." + +"Cynthia!" he exclaimed. + +"Oh, lackaday! Am I to wed a doll?" she demanded. "Is he--is he a man a +maid may love, Sir Crispin?" + +"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?" + +"Why, every fault." + +He laughed in unbelief. + +"And whom are we to blame for all these faults that have turned you so +against him?" + +"Whom?" + +"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." + +"Has my father bidden you to tell me this?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"They tell you truly. What of that?" + +"Well, what of it? Do you blush at the very thought?" + +"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. + +"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." + +Her eyes were severe in their reproach. + +"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." + +Again he laughed, but this time it was in bitterness. + +"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. + +"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--" + +"Have done, child. Have done," he begged. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +"There is nothing that I can tell you, child. Let us rather talk of +Kenneth." + +"I do not wish to talk of Kenneth." + +"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?" + +"What wrong have I done?" she cried in consternation. + +"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?" + +"That desire gives rise, then, to curious manifestations." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"As for those capers, I am endeavouring to show you that you yourself +have driven him to them." + +"Sir Crispin," she cried out, "you grow tiresome." + +"Aye," said he, "I grow tiresome. I grow tiresome because I preach of +duty. Marry, it is in truth a tiresome topic." + +"How duty? Of what do you talk?" And a flush of incipient anger spread +now on her fair cheek. + +"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." + +"Jealous?" echoed Cynthia. + +"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!" + +She did think of it as he bade her. And by thinking she stumbled upon a +discovery that left her breathless. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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: + +"Is--is it a woman's fault that you are as you are?" + +"No, it is not. But how does that concern the case of Kenneth?" + +"It does not. I was but curious. I was not thinking of Kenneth." + +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? + +"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." + +She was silent a moment, and in their poignancy her feelings went very +near to anger. Presently: + +"I would, Sir Crispin, you could hear him talk of you," said she. + +"He talks ill, not a doubt of it, and like enough he has good cause." + +"Yet you saved his life." + +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. + +"Hereafter he may have little cause to thank me," muttered he. "Come, +Mistress Cynthia, it grows late." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. JOSEPH'S RETURN + + +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. + +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. + +"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?" + +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. + +"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." + +"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?" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Then of a sudden she turned a pair of flashing eyes upon the boy, and in +tones charged with a scorn ineffable: + +"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!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Gregory's advent set an awkward constraint upon them, nor had he any +word to say as he came heavily up the hall. + +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. + +"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. + +He reached the terrace steps as the coach pulled up, and the lean figure +of Joseph Ashburn emerged from it. + +"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?" + +"I have news for you, Joseph," answered Gregory, in a voice that shook. + +"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." + +And with that he hastened forward to kiss his niece, and congratulate +Kenneth upon being restored to her. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +"Gregory, you fool, you have drunk overdeep in my absence." + +"I have, I have," wailed Gregory, "and, my God, 'twas he was my +table-fellow, and set me the example." + +"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." + +At that Gregory caught the drift of Joseph's suspicions. + +"Tis you are the fool," he retorted angrily, springing to his feet, and +towering above his brother. + +"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." + +His earnestness was too impressive, his sanity too obvious, and Joseph's +suspicions were all scattered before it. + +He caught Gregory's wrist in a grip that made him wince, and forced him +back into his seat. + +"Gadslife, man, what is it you mean?" he demanded through set teeth. +"Tell me." + +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. + +"And this Galliard, then, is none other than that pup of insolence, +Roland Marleigh, grown into a dog of war?" quoth Joseph. + +He was calm--singularly calm for one who had heard such news. + +"There remains no doubt of it." + +"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?" + +"I may have been blind. But he is greatly changed. I would defy you, +Joseph, to have recognized him." + +Joseph sneered, and the flash of his eyes told of the contempt wherein +he held his brother's judgment and opinions. + +"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: + +"But the lad, Gregory, does he suspect, think you?" + +"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." + +"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. + +"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." + +He spoke as coldly as though the matter were a trivial one. Gregory +shuddered and looked at his brother in alarm. + +"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. + +"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." + +"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. + +Joseph's astonished glance played rapidly over him for a second. Then: + +"Who the devil may you be?" he blurted out. + +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." + +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. + +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: + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. THE RECKONING + + +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. + +And so when he appeared in the hall at suppertime, he came armed and +booted, and equipped as for a journey. + +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. + +As Galliard descended, Joseph turned his head, and his eyebrows shot up +and wrinkled his forehead at beholding the knight's equipment. + +"How is this, Sir Crispin?" said he. "You are going a journey?" + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Anon Cynthia rose. Upon the instant Galliard was also on his feet. He +escorted her to the foot of the staircase, and there: + +"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." + +Her eyes sought the ground, and had he been observant of her he might +have noticed that she paled slightly. + +"Fare you well, sir," said she in a low voice. "May happiness attend +you." + +"Madam, I thank you. Fare you well." + +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. + +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. + +"My brother tells me that you were once acquainted with Roland +Marleigh," said he. + +"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." + +"What story?" + +"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. + +Joseph laughed in a fashion that made Kenneth's blood run cold. + +"Why, no, I don't deny it. It was in fair fight he fell. Moreover, he +brought the duel upon himself." + +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. + +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: + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +And so, a smile of cynical unconcern returned to his lips and his answer +was delivered in a cold, incisive voice. + +"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?" + +"Rather the cur in his kennel," sneered Crispin back. "Blood and wounds, +Master Joseph, think you to affright me with words?" + +Still Joseph smiled, deeming himself master of the situation. + +"Were help needed, the raising of my voice would bring it me. But it is +not. We are three to one." + +"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." + +Kenneth groaned as he stood by, clasping and unclasping his hands. + +"God's curse on you," he burst out. "You have tricked me, you have +cheated me." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +To the clash of their meeting came an echoing clash from beyond the +table. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + +"Ho, there! John, Stephen!" + +"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." + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + +"Good steel were too great an honour for you, Mr. Ashburn." + +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. + +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." + +"You mean to kill me," he gasped, growing yet a shade more livid. + +"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?" + +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. + +"It is murder that you do," he cried. + +"No; it is justice. It has been long on the way, but it has come at +last." + +"Bethink you, Mr. Marleigh--" + +"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. + +"Bethink you, Sir Crispin, of what you are about to do. It can benefit +you in naught." + +"Oddslife, think you it cannot? Think you it will benefit me naught to +see you earn at last your reward?" + +"You may have dearly to pay for what at best must prove a fleeting +satisfaction." + +"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." + +"Sir Crispin, you are in enmity with the Parliament--an outlaw almost. I +have some influence much influence. By exerting it--" + +"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?" + +A groan from Gregory, who was regaining consciousness, drew his +attention aside. + +"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!" + +With a look of loathing the lad dropped on his knees to do as he was +bidden. Then of a sudden: + +"I have not the means," he announced. + +"Fool, does he not wear a sword-belt and a sash? Come, attend to it!" + +"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?" + +"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." + +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. + +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." + +"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. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. JOSEPH DRIVES A BARGAIN + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"What reparation can you make, you murderer? Can you restore to me the +wife and child you butchered eighteen years ago?" + +"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." + +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. + +"What lie is this you offer me? Zounds, man, are you not afraid?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +The knight sank on to a chair as though bereft of strength. He sought to +think, but thinking coherently he could not. At last: + +"How shall I know that you are not lying? What proof can you advance?" +he demanded hoarsely. + +"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. + +"I ask for proofs, man, not oaths. What proofs can you afford me?" + +"There are the man and the woman whom the lad was reared by." + +"And where shall I find them?" + +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. + +"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." + +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? + +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. + +At length Crispin withdrew his hands from eyes that were grown haggard, +and rose. + +"Let us see the letter that you will write," said he. "There you have +pen, ink, and paper. Write." + +"You promise?" asked Joseph. + +"I will tell you when you have written." + +In a hand that shook somewhat, Joseph wrote a few lines, then handed +Crispin the sheet, whereon he read: + +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. + +"I understand," said Crispin slowly. "Yes, it will serve. Now the +superscription." And he returned the paper. + +Ashburn was himself again by now. He realized the advantage he had +gained, and he would not easily relinquish it. + +"I shall add the superscription," said he calmly, "when you swear to +depart without further molesting us." + +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. + +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. + +Crispin took the package, and read thereon: + +This is to Mr. Henry Lane, at the sign of the Anchor, Thames Street, +London. + +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. + +"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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"I will fetch the money," said he, betraying his purpose by his +alacrity. + +"By your leave, Master Ashburn, I will come with you." + +Joseph's eyes flashed him a quick look of baffled hate. + +"As you will," said he, with an ill grace. + +As they passed out, Crispin turned to Kenneth. + +"Remember, sir, you are still in my service. See that you keep good +watch." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +"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. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. COUNTER-PLOT + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"The quarter of an hour is passed, sir," said Joseph coldly, as he +entered. + +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. + +"The quarter of an hour is passed, sir," Joseph repeated in a louder +voice. + +Kenneth looked up, then rose and sighed, passing his hand wearily across +his forehead. + +"I understand, sir," he replied in a low voice. "You mean that I must +go?" + +Joseph waited a moment before replying. Then: + +"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." + +"I understand, sir; I understand. But you deal hardly with me." + +Joseph raised his eyebrows in questioning surprise. + +"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." + +Gregory opened his heavy eyes. + +"A plague on you, Master Stewart," he groaned. "I understand that you +have given me a wound that will take a month to heal." + +"It was an accident, sir. I swear it was an accident!" + +"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." + +"Did you rather suggest a remedy," Joseph put in quietly, "we might hear +you." + +Kenneth swung round and faced him, hope brightening his eyes. + +"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!" + +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: + +"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." + +"Tell me how, sir, and whatever the cost I will perform it!" + +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. + +"It is but a slight matter," answered Joseph. "A matter that I might +entrust to one of my grooms." + +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. + +"I would, sir," answered the boy, "that the task were great and +difficult." + +"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: + +"You shall have this chance of setting yourself right with us," he said. +Then abruptly he added. + +"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." + +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. + +"Go," Joseph said to the boy. And, without comment, Kenneth rose and +left them. + +"What would you do?" asked Gregory when the door had closed. + +"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." + +"But surely Richard or Stephen might carry your errand?" + +"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." + +Gregory shuddered. + +"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." + +"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." + +"Joseph, you will roast in hell for it." + +Joseph laughed him to scorn. + +"To bed with you, you canting hypocrite; your wound makes you +light-headed." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +Kenneth nodded that he understood, and Joseph sprinkled the sand over +the written page. + +"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." + +He folded the letter, sealed it, and wrote the superscription: "This to +Colonel Pride, at the sign of the Anchor in Thames Street." + +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. + +"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." + +"I shall not fail, sir," cried Kenneth. "What man can do to accomplish +the journey within twenty-four hours, I will do." + +He would have stopped to thank Joseph for the signal favour of this +chance of rehabilitation, but Joseph cut him short. + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. THE INTERRUPTED JOURNEY + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Sir, you are choicely met, whoever you may be. I have suffered a +mischance down that cursed hill, and my horse has gone lame." + +Kenneth kept his cloak over his mouth, trusting that the muffling would +sufficiently disguise his accents as he made answer. + +"I am in haste, my master. What is your will?" + +"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." + +"My horse, sir, is not for sale," was Kenneth's brief answer. "Give you +good night." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"'Slife, Master Stewart, I knew not your voice. Whither do you ride?" + +"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." + +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. + +"Go, Master Stewart," he muttered. "Your way is clear." + +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. + +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. + +An hour he rested there, and broke his fast. Then on a fresh horse--a +powerful and willing animal he set out once more. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Halt!" thundered the deep voice of the sergeant, who, with a trooper, +held the road in front. + +Kenneth drew up within a yard of them, conscious that the man's dark +eyes were scanning him sharply from beneath his morion. + +"Who are you, sir?" the bass voice demanded. + +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. + +For a second he hesitated; then: + +"Blount," he stammered, "Jasper Blount." + +He little thought how that fruit of his vanity was to prove his undoing +thereafter. + +"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. + +"Whence are you, Master Blount?" + +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: + +"From Castle Marleigh," he replied. + +"Verily, sir, you seem yet in some doubt. Whither do you go?" + +"To London." + +"On what errand?" The sergeant's questions fell swift as sword-strokes. + +"With letters for Colonel Pride." + +The reply, delivered more boldly than Kenneth had spoken hitherto, was +not without its effect. + +"From whom are these letters?" + +"From Mr. Joseph Ashburn, of Castle Marleigh." + +"Produce them." + +With trembling fingers Kenneth complied. This the sergeant observed as +he took the package. + +"What ails you, man?" quoth he. + +"Naught, sir 'tis the cold." + +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. + +"I pray you, sir, now that you know my errand, suffer me to pass on." + +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. + +"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." + +"But, sir--" + +"No more, master courier," snarled the sergeant. Then, beckoning a +trooper to his side, he whispered an order in his ear. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. THE CONVERTED HOGAN + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Soul of my body," exclaimed the man in surprise, "Master Stewart, as I +live." + +"Stuart!" cried both sergeant and trooper in a gasp, starting forward to +scan their prisoner's face. + +At that the burly captain broke into a laugh. + +"Not the young man Charles Stuart," said he; "no, no. Your captive is +none so precious. It is only Master Kenneth Stewart, of Bailienochy." + +"Then it is not even our man," grumbled the soldier. + +"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." + +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. + +"Bah, a worthless capture, Beddoes," he said. + +"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?" + +Hogan's brows were of a sudden knit. + +"Faith, Beddoes, you are right. Remove his sword and search him." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"Too late for what?" asked Hogan. + +"I--I don't know." + +"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. + +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. + +Then in a flash an idea came to him. + +"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. + +"Faith, you may if you have aught to tell me," and he signed to Beddoes +and his companion to withdraw. + +"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." + +"Soul of my body, Mr. Stewart, what a spirit you have acquired since +last we met." + +"In your place I should leave our last meeting unmentioned, master +turncoat." + +The Irishman's eyebrows shot up. + +"By the Mass, young cockerel, I mislike your tone--" + +"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?" + +"Tis a matter for conjecture," said Hogan, humouring him. + +"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?" + +"Ah! how, indeed?" sighed Hogan. + +"What manner of reputation, think you, that for a captain of the godly +army of the Commonwealth?" + +"A vile one, truly," murmured Hogan with humility. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +He uttered the words with a nasal intonation, and a whimsical look at +Kenneth. + +"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." + +He laughed again, and broke the seal. Kenneth, crestfallen and abashed, +watched him, without attempting further interference. Of what avail? + +"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." + +Kenneth sneered at the man's conclusions, and, shrugging his shoulders, +turned slightly aside. + +"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." + +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. + +"What--what is it?" the lad asked, with hesitancy. + +But Hogan never answered. He strode past him to the door, and flung it +wide. + +"Beddoes!" he called. A step sounded in the passage, and the sergeant +appeared. "Have you a trooper there?" + +"There is Peter, who rode with me." + +"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." + +Kenneth drew back in alarm. + +"Sir--Captain Hogan--will you explain?" + +"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." + +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. + +"I was right in my suspicions, eh?" ventured Beddoes complacently. + +"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." + +The sergeant's eyes were full of questions, but Hogan enlightened him no +further. + +"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--" + +"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." + +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." + +Beddoes' eyes were opened in surprise. + +"He is possessed of valuable information," Hogan explained. "Away with +you, man." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"We have brought him, captain," one of the men announced. + +"Aye, you crop-eared, psalm-whining cuckolds, you've brought me, d--n +you," growled Sir Crispin, whose eyes rolled fiercely. + +As his angry glance lighted upon Hogan's impressive face, he abruptly +stemmed the flow of invective that rushed to his lips. + +The Irishman rose, and looked past him at the troopers. "Leave us," he +commanded shortly. + +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: + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. THE MESSAGE KENNETH BORE + + +In bewilderment Crispin took the outstretched hand of his old +fellow-roysterer. + +"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." + +"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--" + +Then, without completing his sentence, Hogan had seized the black jack +and poured half a glass of its contents, which he handed Crispin. + +"Drink, man," he said briefly, and Crispin, nothing loath, obeyed him. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +And he turned his head the better to survey the Irishman. + +"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?" + +"Than over the downfall of a saint?" suggested Crispin. + +"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. + +"How know you that?" + +"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." + +Crispin sat bolt upright, a look of mingled wonder and suspicion on his +face. + +"You are well informed, you gentlemen of the Parliament," he said. + +"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. + +There were none. For the moment the name awoke no recollections, +conveyed no meaning to Crispin. + +"Who may Colonel Pride be?" he asked, after a pause. + +Hogan was visibly disappointed. + +"A certain powerful and vindictive member of the Rump, whose son you +killed at Worcester." + +This time the shaft went home. Galliard sprang out of the chair, his +brows darkening, and his cheeks pale beyond their wont. + +"Zounds, Hogan, do you mean that Joseph Ashburn was betraying me into +this man's hands?" + +"You have said it." + +"But--" + +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. + +"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?" + +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: + +"Hogan," he vowed, "I'll kill him for it. Fool, blind, pitiful fool that +I am." + +Then--his face distorted by passion--he broke into a torrent of +imprecations that was at length stemmed by Hogan. + +"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." + +Crispin tried to speak, but failed. Then, mastering himself by an +effort, and in a voice that was oddly shaken: + +"Hogan," he cried, "you are torturing me! What is the sum of your +knowledge?" + +At last the Irishman produced Ashburn's letter to Colonel Pride. + +"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." + +"Was this youth Kenneth Stewart?" asked Crispin. + +"You have guessed it." + +"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." + +"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." + +Hogan drew a taper nearer, and spreading the paper upon the table, he +smoothed it out, and read: + +HONOURED SIR, + +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... + +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. + +"Read on," he begged hoarsely. + +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. + +"God!" gasped Crispin. Then with sudden vigour, "Oh, 'tis a lie," he +cried, "a fresh invention of that lying brain to torture me." + +Hogan held up his hand. + +"There is a little more," he said, and continued: + +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, + +JOSEPH ASHBURN + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Hogan, where is the boy?" + +"I have detained him in the inn. Will you see him now?" + +"At once, Hogan. I am convinced." + +The Irishman crossed the chamber, and opening the door he called an +order to the trooper waiting in the passage. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"Why so?" asked Crispin quietly, his eyes ever scanning the lad's face +with a pathetic look. + +"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?" + +A spasm of pain, like a ripple over water, crossed the knight's swart +face. + +"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." + +"Would to Heaven that I had been," the boy burst out, "sooner than pay +such a price for keeping my life!" + +"As for my presence here," Crispin continued, leaving the outburst +unheeded, "it has naught to do with your detention." + +"You lie!" + +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. + +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: + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"My God, Hogan," he cried. "How shall I tell him?" + +In answer to the appeal, the Irishman turned to Kenneth. + +"You have been in error, sir, touching your parentage," quoth he +bluntly. "Alan Stewart, of Bailienochy, was not your father." + +Kenneth looked from one to the other of them. + +"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. + +"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?" + +The lad nodded vacantly. + +"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?" + +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. + +"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." + +"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. + +"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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +Grief and amazement were blended in Galliard's glance, and also, maybe, +some reproach. + +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. + +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. + +"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?" + +Pleadingly he looked into the lad's face. It remained cold and unmoved. + +"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. + +"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." + +Still the lad stood silent. + +"Jocelyn! My God, do I talk in vain?" cried the wretched man. "Have you +no heart, no pity, boy?" + +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. + +"You have ruined my life," was all he said. + +"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." + +"As much a soldier as I'm a saint," sneered Hogan to himself. + +"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!" + +But the boy made no move to take the outstretched hands, gave no sign of +relenting. His mind nurtured its resentment--cherished it indeed. + +"And Cynthia?" he asked coldly. + +Crispin's hands fell to his sides; they grew clenched, and his eyes +lighted of a sudden. + +"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? + +"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." + +"You promise much, sir," quoth the boy, with an illrepressed sneer. "How +will you accomplish it?" + +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. + +"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?" + +Jocelyn shrugged his shoulders. + +"It signifies little where I lie." + +Crispin smiled sadly, and sighed. + +"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?" + +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. + +"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." + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. SIR CRISPIN'S UNDERTAKING + + +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. + +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. + +"If the maid loves him, the thing is as good as done." + +"The maid does not love him; leastways, I fear not." + +Hogan was not surprised. + +"Why, then it will be difficult, well-nigh impossible." And the Irishman +became grave. + +But Crispin laughed unpleasantly. Years and misfortune had made him +cynical. + +"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." + +"But if she prove rebellious? If she say nay to your proposals? There +are such women." + +"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." + +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: + +"It is not a nice thing you contemplate, Cris." + +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: + +"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.". + +Hogan stretched a hand across the table, and set it upon Crispin's arm. + +"Is he worth such a stain upon your honour, Crispin?" + +There was a pause. + +"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?" + +"I asked you," the Irishman persisted, "whether your son was worth the +sacrifice that the vile deed you contemplate entails?" + +Crispin shook his arm from the other's grip, and rose abruptly. He +crossed to the window, and drew back the curtain. + +"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." + +Hogan shrugged his massive shoulders, and reached out for the bottle of +strong waters. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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: + +"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?" + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"I shall not fail you," he said coldly. "Have you money for the +journey?" + +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." + +And without giving the boy time to utter thanks that might be unwilling, +he quickly left the room. + +Within the hour he was in the saddle, and his horse's head was turned +northwards once more. + +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. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. GREGORY'S ATTRITION + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +Cynthia nodded that she understood or that she knew, and glibly Joseph +pursued: + +"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." + +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. + +"Sir Crispin sent them some wine, and they drank to his departure so +heartily that they are not rightly sober yet." + +Satisfied with this explanation Cynthia repaired to her father. + +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. + +"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." + +"How?" quoth she. "Do you say that Kenneth did it?" + +"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." + +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. + +"How came you to quarrel?" + +"How? 'Twas--'twas concerning you, child," replied Gregory at random, +and unable to think of a likelier motive. + +"How, concerning me?" + +"Leave me, Cynthia," he groaned in despair. "Go, child. I am grievously +wounded. I have the fever, girl. Go; let me sleep." + +"But tell me, father, what passed." + +"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?" + +"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." + +By a stupendous effort Gregory shaped a story that to him seemed likely. + +"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." + +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. + +"Whither do you journey, uncle?" she asked of him as he was in the act +of stepping out to enter the waiting carriage. + +"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?" + +"What is it you look to do in London?" + +"There, child, let that be for the present. I will tell you perhaps when +I return. The door, Stephen." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Cynthia," he cried, in mingled dread and sorrow, "Cynthia, my child, I +am about to die." + +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. + +"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." + +She looked up in some surprise. + +"Father, if that be all that grieves you, I can reassure you. I do not +love Kenneth." + +"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. + +"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." + +"Hush, girl," he whispered in a quavering voice. "You know not what you +say." + +"Indeed I do; and as there is a just God my prayer shall be answered." + +"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?" + +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: + +"Oh, you rave," she protested, "it is the fever." + +"Nay, child, my mind is clear, and what I have said is true." + +"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?" + +"Even so," he assented, with a feeble sob. + +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: + +"Why," she cried, "why in God's name do you tell me this?" + +"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. + +"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. + +"Crispin had of a certainty killed Joseph but that your uncle bethought +him of telling him that his son lived." + +"He saved his life by a lie! That was worthy of him," said Cynthia +scornfully. + +"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?" + +"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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. THE WOOING OF CYNTHIA + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +At eventide she came at last from her chamber. + +She had need of air, need of the balm that nature alone can offer in +solitude to poor wounded human souls. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Why are we pensive, Mistress Cynthia?" + +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. + +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: + +"Sir, how came you here? They told me that you rode to London." + +"Why, so I did. But on the road I chanced to halt, and having halted I +discovered reason why I should return." + +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. + +He drew near to her before replying. "May I sit with you awhile, +Cynthia?" + +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. + +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. + +"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?" + +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. + +"Have I conjectured rightly?" he asked, since she kept silence. + +"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. + +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. + +"Why then, sweet lady, is my task that I had feared to find all fraught +with difficulty, grown easy indeed." + +And hearing him pause: + +"What task is that, Sir Crispin?" she asked, intent on helping him. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"It is much to ask," he said. "But love is selfish, and love asks much." + +"No, no," she protested softly, "it is not much to ask. Rather is it +much to offer." + +At that he was aghast. Yet he continued: + +"Bethink you, Mistress Cynthia, I have ridden back to Sheringham to ask +you to come with me into France, where my son awaits us?" + +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. + +"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?" + +She spoke no word, but the hand resting in his entwined his fingers in +an answering pressure. + +"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? + +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: + +"Throughout my life I shall thank God that you have dared it," she made +answer softly. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +"You know, then?" he ejaculated. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Urbanely he handed her into the coach, and, after her, her woman. Then +seeing that he made shift to close the door: + +"How is this?" she cried. "Do you not ride with us?" + +He pointed to a saddled horse standing by the roadside, and which she +had not noticed. + +"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." + +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. + +The coach moved on and the flight from Sheringham was begun. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. CYNTHIA'S FLIGHT + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Why need it put you so about," cried Cynthia, in arch reproach, "since +I am with you?" + +"Blood and fire, madam," roared Galliard, "it is precisely for that +reason that I am exercised. What if your father came upon us here?" + +"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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +"Madam," he laughed, "since you put it so, I care not who comes. The +Lord Protector himself shall not drag you from me." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Where is Sir Crispin?" she demanded. And to the dame's quavering answer +that she knew not, she angrily bade her go ascertain. + +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? + +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. + +"Well?" cried Cynthia, seeing her alone. "Where is Sir Crispin?" + +"Below, madam." + +"Below?" echoed she. "And what, pray, doth he below?" + +"He is at dice with a gentleman from London." + +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. + +"Call me the host," she cried, and the frightened Catherine obeyed her +at a run. + +When the landlord came, bearing lights, and bending his aged back +obsequiously: + +"Have you a pillion?" she asked abruptly. "Well, fool, why do you stare? +Have you a pillion?" + +"I have, madam." + +"And a knave to ride with me, and a couple more as escort?" + +"I might procure them, but--" + +"How soon?" + +"Within half an hour, but--" + +"Then go see to it," she broke in, her foot beating the ground +impatiently. + +"But, madam--" + +"Go, go, go!" she cried, her voice rising at each utterance of that +imperative. + +"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." + +"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." + +The sorely-puzzled host withdrew to do her bidding, won to it by her +promise of good payment. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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?" + +"Certainly you are a fool," his wife agreed, kneading diligently, +"whatever you may have endured. What now?" + +His fat face was puckered into a thousand wrinkles. His little eyes +gazed at her with long-suffering malice. + +"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. + +"Oh, 'tis ill done!" he broke out a moment later. "Shame on me for it; +it is ill done!" + +"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. + +"For sending those poor jaded beasts upon the road." + +"What beasts?" + +"What beasts? Do I keep turtles? My horses, woman." + +"And whither have you sent them?" + +"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." + +"Where is he?" inquired the hostess. + +"At dice with those other gallants from town." + +"At dice quotha? And she's gone, you say?" asked Mrs. Quinn, pausing in +her labours squarely to face her husband. + +"Aye," said he. + +"Stupid!" rejoined his docile spouse, vexed by his laconic assent. "Do +you mean she has run away?" + +"Tis what anyone might take from what I have told you," he answered +sweetly. + +"And you have lent her horses and helped her to get away, and you leave +her husband at play in there?" + +"You have seen her marriage lines, I make no doubt," he sneered +irrelevantly. + +"You dolt! If the gentleman horsewhips you, you will have richly earned +it." + +"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. + +"What would you do?" he inquired nervously. + +"Tell the gentleman what has taken place." + +"Nay," he cried, resolutely barring her way. "Nay. That you shall not. +Would you--would you ruin me?" + +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. + +"Are you mad, woman?" he shouted. "Will you undo me?" + +"Do you undo me," she bade him, snatching at his hands. But he clutched +with the tightness of despair. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"I promised her," he began. + +"What care I for your promises?" she asked. "I will tell him, so that he +may yet go after her and bring her back." + +"You shall not," he insisted, gripping her more closely. But at that +moment a delicately mocking voice greeted their ears. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Rat me," he groaned, "there's the end of a hundred." + +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. + +"Tarry, sir," he cried, "I've not yet done. 'Slife, we'll make a night +of it." + +He drew a ring from his finger, and with a superb gesture of disdain +pushed it across the board. + +"What'll ye stake?" And, in the same breath, "Boy, another stoup," he +cried. + +Crispin eyed the gem carelessly. + +"Twenty Caroluses," he muttered. + +"Rat me, sir, that nose of yours proclaims you a jew, without more. Say +twenty-five, and I'll cast." + +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. + +"What'll ye stake?" cried Mr. Foster, and a second ring followed the +first. + +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. + +"Gone!" cried Crispin in consternation. + +The woman pointed to her husband, and Crispin, understanding from this +that she referred him to the host, called to him. + +"What know you, landlord?" he shouted. "Come hither, and tell me whither +is she gone!" + +"I know not," replied the quaking host, adding the particulars of +Cynthia's departure, and the information that the lady seemed in great +anger. + +"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. + +"Hoity toity!" cried Mr. Foster. "What sudden haste is this?" + +"I am sorry, sir, that Fortune has been unkind to you, but I must go. +Circumstances have arisen which--" + +"D--n your circumstances!" roared Foster, get ting on his feet. "You'll +not leave me thus!" + +"With your permission, sir, I will." + +"But you shall not have my permission!" + +"Then I shall be so unfortunate as to go without it. But I shall +return." + +"Sir, 'tis an old legend, that!" + +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. + +"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?" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +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: + +"Why did you run away?" he asked. + +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. + +"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. + +"You are wounded?" she faltered. + +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. + +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. + +"Crispin, Crispin, Crispin!" + +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. + +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? + +"Crispin, Crispin," she cried, "thank God you did but swoon!" + +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. + +In a feeble voice he asked: + +"Why did you run away?" + +"Let us forget it," she answered softly. + +"Nay--tell me first." + +"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." + +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! + +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! + +The hardest fight he ever fought, he fought it there, lying supine upon +the ground, his head in her lap. + +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. + +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. + +"Cynthia," he cried, "God pity me, I love you!" And he swooned again. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. TO FRANCE + + +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. + +"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." + +Cynthia looked up in alarm, whereupon that merry blood catching sight of +her, halted in some confusion at what he saw. + +"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. + +"Your servant, madam," said he, "your servant Harry Foster." + +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. + +"I did not know, madam, that your husband was hurt." + +"He is not my husband, sir," she answered, scarce knowing what she said. + +"Gadso!" he ejaculated. "Yet you ran away from him?" + +Her cheeks grew crimson. + +"The door, sir, is behind you." + +"So, madam, is that thief the landlord," he made answer, no whit +abashed. "Come hither, you bladder of fat, the gentleman is hurt." + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"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. + +"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." + +Crispin stopped him with a wave of the hand. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"One moment, Mr. Foster," said Crispin, an idea suddenly occurring to +him. "You mentioned horses. Are they fresh?" + +"As June roses." + +"And you are returning to London, are you not?" + +"I am." + +"When do you wish to proceed?" + +"To-morrow." + +"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!" + +"But your wound?" cried Cynthia. "You are still faint." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"You shall have my horses, sir, and my note of hand as well," said +Foster firmly. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. THE AUBERGE DU SOLEIL + + +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. + +He sighed before replying, and passing his brown, nervous hand across +his brow, he found it moist. + +"My name, M. l'hote, is Crispin Galliard. What news have you for me?" + +"A gentleman--a countryman of milord's--has been here these three days +awaiting him." + +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. + +"Bring him to me. I will see him at once." + +"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." + +"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." + +"Monsieur will sup?" + +"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. + +As he was retiring, a heavy step sounded on the stair, accompanied by +the clank of a scabbard against the baluster. + +"Here comes milord's countryman," the landlord announced. + +And Crispin, looking up in apprehension, saw framed in the doorway the +burly form of Harry Hogan. + +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. + +"Welcome to France, Crispin," said he. "If not him whom you looked to +find, you have at least a loyal friend to greet you." + +"Hogan!" gasped the knight. "What make you here? How came you here? +Where is Jocelyn?" + +The Irishman looked at him gravely for a moment, then sighed and sank +down upon a chair. "You have brought the lady?" he asked. + +"She is here. She will be with us presently." + +Hogan groaned and shook his grey head sorrowfully. + +"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?" + +"I have bad news." + +"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?" + +"And you have brought the lady too!" Hogan complained. "Faith, I had +hoped that you had failed in that at least." + +"Sdeath, Harry," Crispin exclaimed. "Will you tell me the news?" + +Hogan pondered a moment. Then: + +"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. + +"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." + +Hogan paused, and Crispin sat very still and white, his soul in torment. + +"And Ashburn?" he asked presently, in a voice that was singularly hoarse +and low. "What became of him? Was he not arrested?" + +"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. + +"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. + +"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." + +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?" + +"But the lady?" gasped Hogan, amazed at Crispin's lack of thought for +her. + +"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." + +One look of utter bewilderment did Hogan bestow upon Sir Crispin, and +for once his glib, Irish tongue could shape no other words than: + +"Soul of my body!" + +He wrung Crispin's hand, and in a state of ineffable perplexity he +hurried from the room to do what was required of him. + +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. + +Then the rustle of a gown drew his attention, and he swung round to find +Cynthia smiling upon him from the threshold. + +He advanced to meet her, and setting his hands upon her shoulders, he +held her at arm's length, looking down into her eyes. + +"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. + + + + + +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.txt or 3030.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 + +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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