HOW AT LAST I FOUND MY ENEMY, RICHARD BRANDON
Whether this paroxysm had wrought me to a swoon I know not, but I wondered
to feel a hand upon my head, stroking my hair with touch marvellous gentle,
and therewith a voice:
"Comfort thee, comfort thee, poor youth! These be rages and despairs that
many do suffer at the first; in a little shall come back thy courage and
with it hope--that hope, alas, that never dieth--even here. 'Lo, I am with
thee,' saith the Lord--so be comforted, young sir. Let other thoughts
distract thy mind--let us converse if thou wilt. Tell me, I pray, how didst
know my unhappy name?"
"Because," said I, starting from his touch, "I am son to the man you foully
murdered by false accusation. I am Martin Conisby, Lord Wendover of Shere
and last of my line!"
Now at this he drew away and away, staring on me great-eyed and I heard the
breath gasp between his pallid lips.
"What--do you here, my lord?"
"Seek my just vengeance!"
"The vengeance of a Conisby!" he murmured.
"Six years ago I broke from the hell of slavery you sold me into and ever
since have sought you with intent to end the feud once and for ever."
"The feud?" he muttered. "Aye, we have shed each other's blood for
generations--when your grandfather fought and slew my father on the highway
beyond Lamberhurst village I, a weeping boy, kissing the wound his rapier
had made, vowed to end the Conisbys one day and came nigh doing it, God
forgive me. So doth one sin beget others, and so here to-day, in the gloom
of my dungeon, I yield myself to your vengeance, my lord, freely and humbly
confessing the harms I did you and the base perfidy of my actions. So, an
you will have my miserable life, take it and with my last breath I will
beseech God pardon you my blood and bring you safe out of this place of
torment and sorrow. God knoweth I have endured much of agony these latter
years and yet have cherished my life in despite my sufferings hitherto,
aye, cherished it so basely as to turn apostate that I might live yet a
little longer--but now, my lord, freely--aye, joyfully will I give it,
for your vengeance, praying God of His abounding mercy to pardon my most
grievous offences but, being grown weak in courage and body by reason of
frequent and grieveous torturings, this mayhap shall plead my excuse. Come
then, Martin Conisby, your hand upon my throat, your fetter-chain about my
neck--"
"Have done!" said I. "Have done!" And getting up, I crossed to the
extremest corner of the dungeon and cast myself down there. But in a little
he was beside me again, bearing the lanthorn and with straw from his
bed for my pillow, whereupon I cursed and bade him begone, but he never
stirred.
"Oh boy," said he, seeing me clench my fist, "I am inured to stripes and
very fain to speech with thee, wherefore suffer me a little and answer me
this question, I pray. You have sought me these many years, you have even
followed me into this hell of suffering, and God at last hath given me to
your vengeance--wherefore not take it?"
"Because he I sought was masterful, strong and arrogant!"
"Yet this my body, though sorely changed, is yet the slime; 'twill bleed if
you prick it and I can die as well now as six years ago--?"
But seeing I made no manner of answer, he left me at last and I watched him
limp disconsolate to his corner, there to bow himself on feeble knees and
with hands crossed on his bosom and white head bowed, fall to a passion of
silent prayer yet with many woful sighings and moanings, and so got him to
his miserable bed.
As for me, I lay outstretched upon my face, my head pillowed on my arm,
with no desire of sleep, or to move, content only to lie thus staring into
the yellow flame of the lanthorn as a child might, for it verily seemed
that all emotions and desires were clean gone out of me; thus lay I, my
mind a-swoon, staring at this glimmering flame until it flickered and
vanished, leaving me in outer darkness. But within me was a darkness
blacker still, wherein my soul groped vainly.
So the long night wore itself to an end, for presently, lifting heavy head,
I was aware of a faint glow waxing ever brighter, till suddenly, athwart
the gloom of my prison, shot a beam of radiant glory, like a very messenger
of God, telling of a fair, green world, of tree and herb and flower, of the
sweet, glad wind of morning and all the infinite mercies of God; so that,
beholding this heavenly vision, I came nigh weeping for pure joy and
thankfulness.
Now this thrice-blessed sunlight poured in through a small grating high
up in the massy wall and showed me the form of my companion, the shining
silver of his hair, his arms wide-tossed in slumber. Moved by sudden
impulse I arose and (despite the ache and stiffness of my limbs) came
softly to look upon him as he lay thus, his cares forgot awhile in blessed
sleep; and thus, beneath his rags, I saw divers and many grievous scars of
wounds old and new, the marks of hot and searing iron, of biting steel and
cruel lash, and in joints, swollen and inflamed, I read the oft-repeated
torture of the rack. And yet in these features, gaunt and haggard by
suffering, furrowed and lined by pain, was a serene patience and nobility
wholly unfamiliar.
Thus it seemed God had hearkened to my oft-repeated prayers, had given up
to me mine enemy bound; here at last, beneath my hand, lay the contriver of
my father's ruin and death and of my own evil fortunes. But it seemed the
sufferings that had thus whitened his hair, bowed his once stalwart frame
and chastened his fierce pride had left behind them something greater and
more enduring, before which my madness of hate and passionate desire
of vengeance shrank abashed. Now as I stood thus, lost in frowning
contemplation of my enemy, he groaned of a sudden and starting to his
elbow, stared up at me haggard-eyed.
"Ah, my lord!" said he, meeting my threatening look. "Is the hour of
vengeance at hand--seek ye my life indeed? Why, then, I am ready!"
But, nothing speaking, I got me back to my gloomy corner and crouched
there, my knees up-drawn, my head bowed upon my arms; and now, my two hands
gripping upon the empty air, I prayed again these words so often wrung from
me by past agonies: "Oh, God of Justice, give me now vengeance--vengeance
upon mine enemy. His life, Oh, God, his life!" But even as I spake these
words within myself I knew the vengeance I had dreamed of and cherished so
dearly was but a dream indeed, a fire that had burned utterly away, leaving
nought but the dust and ashes of all that might have been. And realising
somewhat of the bitter mockery of my situation, bethinking me of all I had
so wantonly cast away for this dream, and remembering the vain labour and
all the wasted years, I fell to raging despair, insomuch that I groaned
aloud and casting myself down, smote upon the stone floor of my prison with
shackled fists. And thus I presently felt a touch and glanced up to behold
my enemy bending above me.
"My lord--" said he.
"Devil!" I cried, smiting the frail hand from me. "I am no more than the
poor outcast wretch you ha' made of me!" Thus, with curses and revilings, I
bade him plague me no more and presently, wearied mind and body by my long
vigil, I fell a-nodding, until, wakened by the opening of the door, I
looked up to behold one of the black-robed familiars, who, having set down
meat and drink, vanished again, silent and speechless.
Roused by the delectable savours of this meat, which was hot and
well-seasoned, I felt myself ravenous and ate with keen appetite, and
taking up the drink, found it to be wine, very rich and comforting. So
I ate and drank my fill, never heeding my companion, and thereafter,
stretching myself as comfortably as I might, I sank into a deep slumber.
But my sleep was troubled by all manner of dreams wherein was a nameless
fear that haunted me, a thing dim-seen and silent, save for the stealthy
rustling of a trailing robe. And even as I strove to flee it grew upon me
until I knew this was Death in the shape of Fra Alexo. And now, as I strove
vainly to escape those white, cruel fingers, Joanna was betwixt us; I heard
her shrill, savage cry, saw the glitter of her steel and, reeling back, Fra
Alexo stood clutching his throat in his two hands, staring horribly ere
he fell. But looking upon him as he lay I saw this was not Fra Alexo, for
gazing on the pale, dead face, I recognised the beloved features of my lady
Joan. But, sudden and swift, Joanna stooped to clasp that stilly form,
to lay her ruddy mouth to these pallid lips; and lo, she that was dead
stirred, and rose up quick and vivid with life and reached out yearning
arms to me, seeing nothing of Joanna where she lay, a pale, dead thing.
I started up, crying aloud, and blinked to the glare of a lanthorn; as I
crouched thus, shielding my eyes from this dazzling beam, from the darkness
beyond came a voice, very soft and tenderly sweet, the which set me
shivering none the less.
"Most miserable man, forswear now the error of thy beliefs, or prepare thy
unworthy flesh to chastisement. In this dead hour of night when all do
sleep, save the God thou blasphemest and Holy Church, thou shall be brought
to the question--"
"Hold, damned Churchman!" cried a voice, and turning I beheld my enemy, Sir
Richard Brandon, his gaunt and fettered arms upraised, his eyes fierce and
steadfast. "Heed not this bloody-minded man! And you, Fra Alexo and these
cowled fiends that do your evil work, I take you to witness, one and all,
that I, Richard Brandon, Knight banneret of Kent, do now, henceforth and
for ever, renounce and abjure the oath you wrung from my coward flesh by
your devilish tortures. Come, do to my body what ye will, but my soul--aye,
my soul belongs to God--not to the Church of Rome! May God reckon up
against you the innocent blood you have shed and in every groan and tear
and cry you have wrung from tortured flesh may you find a curse in this
world and hereafter!"
The loud, fierce voice ceased; instead I heard a long and gentle sigh, a
murmured command, and Sir Richard was seized by dim forms and borne away,
his irons clashing. Then I sprang, whirling up my fetter-chains to smite,
was tripped heavily, felt my limbs close-pinioned and was dragged forth of
the dungeon. And now, thus helpless at the mercy of these hideous, hooded
forms that knew no mercy, my soul shrank for stark horror of what was to
be, and my body shook and trembled in abject terror.
In this miserable state I was dragged along, until once again I heard the
murmur of that sweet, soft voice, whereupon my captors halted, a door
was unlocked, and I was cast into a place of outer darkness there to lie
bruised and half-stunned yet agonised with fear, insomuch that for very
shame I summoned up all my resolution, and mastering my fear, I clenched
chattering teeth and sweating palms, determined to meet what was to be with
what courage and fortitude I might. Slowly the shivering horror passed and
in its place was a strange calm as I waited for them to bear me to the
torture.
Suddenly my heart leapt to a shrill scream and thereafter I heard an
awful voice, loud and hoarse and tremulous, and between each gasping cry,
dreadful periods of silence:
"Oh, God ... Oh, God of pity, aid me ... make me to endure ... Lord God,
strengthen my coward soul ... help me to be worthy ... faithful at last ...
faithful to the end...."
As for me, well knowing the wherefore of these outcries, the meaning of
these ghastly silences, a frenzy of horror seized me so that I shouted and
raved, rolling to and fro in my bonds. Yet even so I could hear them at
their devils work, until the hoarse screams sank to a piteous wailing, a
dreadful inarticulate babble, until, wrought to a frenzy, I struggled to my
feet (despite my bonds) and (like the madman I was) leapt towards whence
these awful sounds came, and falling, knew no more.
From this blessed oblivion I was roused by a kindly warmth and opening my
eyes, saw that I lay face down in a beam of sunshine that poured in through
the small grille high in the wall like a blessing; being very weary and
full of pain, and feeling this kindly ray mighty comforting, I lay where I
was and no desire to move, minded to sleep again. But little by little I
became conscious of a dull, low murmur of sound very distressful to hear
and that set me vaguely a-wondering. Therefore, after some while, I
troubled to lift my head and wondered no more.
A twisted heap of blood-stained rags, the pallid oval of a face, the dull
gleam of a chain, this much I saw at a glance, but when I came beside Sir
Richard's prostrate form and beheld the evils they had wrought on him, a
cry of horror and passionate anger broke from me, whereupon he checked his
groaning and opening swimming eyes, smiled wanly up at me.
"Glory--and thanks to God--I--endured!" he whispered. Now at this I sank on
my knees beside him, and when I would have spoken, could not for a while;
at last:
"Is there aught I may do?" I questioned.
"Water!" he murmured feebly. So I reached the water and setting my arm
'neath his neck (and despite my fetters) lifted him as gently as I might
and held the jar to his cracked lips. When he had drank what he would
I made a rough pillow for his head and rent strips from my shirt for
bandages, and finding my pitcher full-charged with wine, mixed some with
water and betook me to bathing his divers hurts (though greatly hampered by
the chain of my fetters) and found him very patient to endure my awkward
handling, in the midst of which, meeting my eye, he smiled faintly:
"Martin Conisby," he whispered. "Am I not--your--enemy?"
"Howbeit you endured!" quoth I.
"Thanks be to God!" said he humbly. "And is it for this. You will cherish
thus--and comfort one--hath wronged you and yours--so bitterly?"
But at this I grew surly and having made an end of my rough surgery, I went
and cast myself upon my bed of straw and, lying there, watching the sunbeam
creep upon the wall, I fell to pondering this problem, viz: How came I thus
striving to soothe the woes of this man I had hunted all these years to his
destruction; why must I pity his hurts and compassionate his weakness--why?
And as I sat, my fists clenched, scowling at the sun-ray, it verily seemed
as he had read these my thoughts.
"Martin Conisby," said he, his voice grown stronger. "Oh, Martin, think it
not shame to pity thine enemy; to cherish them that despitefully use you;
this is Godlike. I was a proud man and merciless but I have learned much
by sufferings, and for the wrongs I did you--bitterly have I repented. So
would I humbly sue forgiveness of you since I am to die so soon--"
"To die?"
"Aye, Martin, at the next auto-da-fé--by the fire--"
"The fire!" said I, clenching my fists.
"They have left me my life that I may burn--"
"When?" I demanded 'twixt shut teeth. "When?"
"To-day--to-morrow--the day after--what matter? But when the flames have
done their work, I would fain go to God bearing with me your forgiveness.
But if this be too much to hope--why, then, Martin, I will beseech God to
pluck you forth of this place of horror and to give you back to England, to
happiness, to honour and all that I reft from you--"
"Nay, this were thing impossible!" I cried.
"There is nought impossible to God, Martin!" Here fell silence awhile and
then, "Oh, England--England!" cried he. "D'ye mind how the road winds
'twixt the hedgerows a-down hill into Lamberhurst, Martin; d'ye mind the
wonder of it all--the green meadows, the dim woods full of bird song and
fragrance--you shall see it all again one day, but as for me--ah, to
breathe just once again the sweet smell of English earth! But God's will be
done!"
For a while I sat picturing to my fancy the visions his words had conjured
up; lifting my head at last, I started up to see him so pale and still and
bending above him, saw him sleeping, placid as any child, yet with the
marks of tears upon his shrunken cheek.