MY FIGHT WITH BENET KILLIGREW, AND OUR FLIGHT ACROSS THE MOORS.
"Stop!" I cried as the party came up. Immediately the women checked
their horses, but the man seemed as though he would ride on, heedless of
me. When he saw that his companions obeyed my bidding, however, he
wheeled around savagely.
"Who are you, my man?" he cried. It was Benet Killigrew who spoke.
Evidently the women had carefully obeyed my bidding.
"Thank you, Killigrew, for carrying out my plans," I said. "Now you can
ride back to your father and the priest, and tell them what a fool you
have been."
I heard him growl an oath which I will not here set down.
"What want you?" he cried.
"I could have shot you easily," I said, "but that is not my way. Go back
now, I will take care of the lady."
He saw the trap into which he had fallen, but he was not a man to give
up easily.
"Ha!" he laughed, "after all, I'm glad of this. You thought I should
play into your hands, but, by Heaven, you play into mine!"
He leaped from his horse as he spoke, and I believe that for the moment
in his eagerness to fight he had forgotten why he was there.
Bidding Chestnut stand still, I placed myself on guard while Benet drew
his sword.
"I like not fighting before women," he cried; "they faint at the sight
of blood, but, by Cormoran, I love you, Trevanion! We'll fight for the
maid, and the best man shall have her."
"Stop a minute," I said. "This is Mistress Nancy Molesworth, is it not?"
"Yes,"--it was the maid herself who spoke.
"And you do not wish to go with this man Benet Killigrew?"
"No, no. I will go no further with him now. I only came here thus at
your bidding!"
"Did you?" growled Benet, "but you will go further with me. Trevanion,
you are over confident, my man. Because you threw me by a trick I had
not practised, you ventured on this scheme? I love you for it, but you
are a dead man, Trevanion"; and he gave a laugh of wild joy.
For the moment I repented I had not wounded him unawares and taken away
the maid without his knowing who had done it, but only for a moment. It
is but a coward's device to hurt an unprepared man. Besides, although
Benet Killigrew was a wild rake, and ill-fitted to be the husband of
such a maid as Nancy Molesworth, he was a brave man, and loved a fight,
and as such I respected him.
Without waiting he attacked me hotly; all the same I saw he was wary,
and was not weakened by over-confidence, as he was when we wrestled.
His eyes continued to gleam with a fierce joy, and he laughed like a man
well pleased.
"You thought to beat Benet Killigrew," he cried, "you thought to use him
as a tool, eh?"
For full three minutes we fought without either gaining advantage, and I
realized how much depended on the skill and strength of my right arm. I
saw too that Benet meant to kill me; every thrust he made meant death
had I not been successful in parrying them. Never before had I fought
with such a man; never before had I seen such a gleam of joy, a joy that
was devilish, as I saw in Benet Killigrew's eyes.
I had no chance of noticing the two women, for Benet pressed me sorely.
I fancied I heard some slight screams, but of these I recked nothing. A
woman always cries out at a man's blows. For the first few minutes I
acted on the defensive. I was anxious to test my antagonist, before
seeking to disable him, for this was all I wanted to do.
Presently, therefore I prepared myself for a method of attack of which I
fancied Killigrew would be ignorant, but in making it I placed myself at
a disadvantage, for my heel caught on a big stone which lay in the road,
and I was thrown off my guard. He was not slow in making use of this, as
may be imagined, and I doubt much if I could have saved myself, for I
stumbled back a couple of paces, and as I stumbled I saw his sword arm
raised. Before he could strike, however, his arm was caught from behind,
and in a second I was my own man again.
He gave a savage oath, and furiously threw aside the one who had kept
him from taking advantage of my mishap.
In a second I saw that it was Mistress Nancy Molesworth who had come to
my aid, and while I felt ashamed that I needed to be helped by a maid,
the incident in the battle nerved my arm.
"Come on, Benet Killigrew," I said, "that stone shall not serve you
again."
"Bah, you were at my mercy," he cried, "but you were saved by the maid
Nancy. Well, the best man shall have her!"
After that no further word was spoken, for we fell to again, and each of
us fought like grim death. And now Benet fought not so much for the joy
of fighting, as for the sake of claiming the maid who had held his hand,
and for revenge on me. I too fought in deadly earnest, for now that the
maid had rendered me such signal service I felt more than ever desirous
of ridding her from the power of the Killigrews, and perhaps I desired
to show her even at that moment that I was a better man than my
opponent. Besides, I knew that Otho Killigrew and his brothers might be
upon me at any moment, so that whatever was done must be done quickly.
With this in my mind I became less cautious, being anxious to finish the
business, and Benet, noting this, thought, I expect, that my guard was
becoming weak; whereupon, imagining I was yielding ground, he rushed on
me with so little care that he spitted himself on my sword, while his
weapon fell from his hand.
Precious though every moment was, I undid his doublet and examined the
wound I had made. The blood came freely, but I did not think it was
mortal. For this I was glad, because I wished not to have his life
resting on me.
"You have got the maid, Trevanion," he gasped, "but I shall not die.
Some time we shall fight again," and with that he fell into a swoon.
"We are followed!"
It was the maid Nancy who spoke, and instantly I heard the sound of
horses.
"Mount!" I cried quickly, and then I saw that the serving-maid had not
alighted from her horse. Whistling to Chestnut that he might come to me,
I turned to help Mistress Nancy to get on her horse; but she would have
nought to do with me. Instead she led her steed to a high stone, and
without my aid sat in her saddle. I jumped on Chestnut's back,
therefore, and galloped southward, with the two women close to me.
Both of them rode well. The maid Nancy sat her horse gracefully, as
every well-born woman should, while Amelia Lanteglos rode carelessly and
easily, as is common among country wenches who make a practice of riding
horses barebacked. For a couple of miles neither spoke; we rode hard as
was natural, but at the end of that time I drew my rein for a moment. I
was anxious to listen whether we were followed. The women, however, rode
forward.
"Stop!" I said.
"For why?" It was Mistress Nancy who spoke.
"I wish to listen whether the Killigrews are riding behind us, or
whether they have stopped with Benet."
Upon this they obeyed my behest, I thought unwillingly. I listened for a
few moments, but no sound reached me.
"They must be staying awhile with Benet," I said aloud.
"Yes, but they will follow us. Let us forward!"
"Whither?" I asked, for her tones nettled me. She spoke as though I were
a servant.
"There is but one place," she replied sharply. "Your promise was to take
me to Polperro."
"And when you get there?" I asked.
"Your work will be done then, sir."
"But the Killigrews will follow you to Polperro."
"I have friends there who will protect me. Let us waste no more time."
We rode forward without another word, although, to tell the truth, her
discourteous mode of speech cooled my ardour. Apparently she did not
remember that I had been scheming and fighting for her liberty.
Evidently I was no more to her than a lad who might open a gate through
which she might enter into liberty. What became of me in opening the
gate, she cared not. This ill-agreed with my nature, although, when I
remembered my promise to Peter Trevisa, I felt tongue-tied. The truth
was, I wot not what to do. My bargain with Trevisa hung like a millstone
around my neck, and the fact that I could not altogether shake off the
thought that I meant to take the maid to Treviscoe made me ashamed to
speak to her.
I do not pretend to be a hero such as story-tellers rave about, and I
must confess that the thought of having Trevanion under easy
circumstances became hourly more dear to me. All the same I wanted to
act worthily of my name, and the thought of the helplessness of the
women who rode near me made me anxious for their safety.
"We must ride through Wadebridge," I said at length.
"Why?"
"Because of the river."
"Very well."
After that we lapsed into silence again. A mile or two further on I
sought to draw her into a conversation, but in vain. Evidently she had
accepted my escort as the one means of escaping from the Killigrews, but
she loved me no more than she trusted them. I was as distasteful to her
as they were, and she would have scorned my help had any other means
presented themselves. I could see too that she did not trust me, and
that if I acted contrary to her wishes she would leave me. Now that she
had gained her liberty she felt confident of her own strength and
ingenuity. The fact that no sound of the Killigrews followed us gave her
assurance, and in her ignorance of what might happen she fancied herself
well out of harm's way. For myself she was sure I must have some purpose
of my own to serve, and it was for her to use me in so far as I could be
of any value to her, taking precautions all the time, however, that I
did not betray her.
This was how the matter appealed to me, and every mile of the journey
confirmed my belief. Moreover I felt she was just, for although my heart
revolted at the thought of taking her to Treviscoe, I knew I had not
given up hopes of getting back Trevanion.
All this made me a sorry companion, and made me hang my head as I rode
along.
"We must decide what road we take after we reach Wadebridge," I said as
we drew near the little port.
"How? why?" she asked.
"There be several roads," I replied. "The nearest way to Polperro will
be to ride through Egloshayle, and thence, on to Bodmin, but that is
also the road the Killigrews will most likely take in their search after
you."
"But they are not following."
"Doubtless they stopped when they came to Benet, but if I know Otho he
will not give up easily."
"And the other roads?"
"There is one across the moors by which we can get to a place called St.
Blazey; from thence it is but a few miles to Polperro."
"And which do you advise?"
"I had better not advise," I replied proudly. "The road to Bodmin is
good, although it hath but an ill name, because of the footpads who
infest it. The one across the moors is rough and not so easily followed.
It would be easy to get lost there in the dark."
"And think you the Killigrews would overtake us if we went the Bodmin
road?"
"They could ride faster than we."
"And they would take me back?"
"I can fight one, I cannot fight many. Besides, when one is not trusted,
it is but little he can do."
She looked at me keenly.
"Advise me," she said presently.
"There will be no sound of horses' hoofs across the moors," I said.
"That fact cuts two ways, but it would give us the advantage at the
start."
"We will go across the moors," she said in a more friendly way, although
her voice was anxious, as indeed it might well be.
Accordingly we rode across the bridge which leads into the little town
of Wadebridge, and then went some distance on the Padstow road, until we
came to a little lane which led to the moors. We had gone perhaps a mile
across a dreary tract of land, when she spoke again.
"There be no bogs, no dangerous places here?" she asked.
"I never heard of any," I replied.
"And you think we are away from danger?"
"I think we are less likely to be followed than if we had taken the main
way. In my opinion it would be best for us to find some place of rest as
soon as daylight comes."
"Why?"
"We shall not be able to travel rapidly in the dark, and, think as we
may, but the Killigrews will be scouring the whole countryside, and that
right quickly."
"But can we not hurry on to Polperro?"
"It is several hours' ride from here. In an hour or so it will be
daylight. They will then be able to track our horses. Even if they fail
to track us in that way, they will have men placed near John Polperro's
house."
"Why did you not tell me this earlier?"
"You would not listen to me."
"What would you do now then?"
"I think it would be best to find a farm-house. If we could hap on a
convenient one it would be best to rest there two or three days. This
done, I might reconnoitre Polperro's place, and perchance prepare him
for your coming."
She turned her head towards me, but the sky was overcast and the light
was dim. She could barely see my face, neither could I see hers. Then I
remembered that I had never seen the maid in broad daylight, and for the
first time I felt the strangeness of my position. I was alone on a wide
stretch of moors with a lady and her serving-woman. We were in all
probability pursued by those who had the legal right to govern the
lady's actions. She desired to go to a place of safety, while it was to
my interest to take her to Peter Trevisa. All this I knew before, but
until then I did not realize what it meant.
"Will it be safe to go to a farm-house?" she said at length.
"The country people are very hospitable," I replied; "besides we can pay
them liberally."
Presently the dark outline of a square church tower appeared against the
dark sky.
"What is that?" she asked.
"It is St. Wenn Church tower," I replied. "We should have got farther
than this, but we have been obliged to come very slowly across the
moors. I think the road will soon be better now."
"It will soon be daylight, you say. Will you look out for some place
where we can stay."
She spoke despondingly. Doubtless she was lonely, and perhaps she felt
the real difficulties of the situation. She spoke no further to me,
however, but fell back with her serving-maid, leaving me to my thoughts.
Presently I saw a gray streak in the eastern sky, and then looking back
I saw a party of horsemen.
"Ride faster!" I cried out. "We are followed."
"By whom?"
"Look back," I replied.
She obeyed me, and I saw by the look in her eyes that she came to the
same conclusion as I.
"What can we do?" she cried.
In truth I knew not how to answer her. I had discovered enough of the
Killigrews to know they would not be easily beaten. I was sure too they
would seek to be revenged on me, while the maid Nancy would be wholly in
their power, if I were unable to protect her. To make matters worse,
too, I saw that her horse was lame. It might be that only a stone had
become wedged in the hollow of his hoof, but on the other hand it might
be more serious. Daylight would soon be upon us, and our followers, if
they were the Killigrews, would find us easily.
"In truth, I cannot tell you just yet," I said. "Let us ride on."
It was but comfortless words I could speak, but she made no complaining
answer. We descended into a little hollow from which we could not see
our pursuers, but we were none the less free from danger. A few minutes
later we climbed the hill on the other side, I vainly racking my brain
for some feasible plan. All the time the light grew brighter, but I
looked not towards her. Truth to tell, I was ashamed. When we reached
the summit of the hill, while we were hidden from those behind, the
country southward was exposed to our view. My heart gave a great leap,
for what I saw set me thinking rapidly.
Before me, about two miles away, rose a great rock. It was perhaps
thirty feet high, while nearly at the summit I could see what seemed
like masonry. A doorway was fashioned, just as though some one had used
the place as a refuge.
"That," I thought, "is Roche Rock!"
No sooner had the fancy flashed through my brain, than I remembered
Anthony, the tale-teller. I called to mind what he had said about
escaping to a high rock amidst the wild waste of moors. I minded the
scrap of paper lying at my chamber door, on which was written the word
_ROCHE_.
As I said, the light was increasing, although the sun had not yet risen.
I looked back; we were still hidden from our pursuers.
"Mistress Nancy!" I cried, "yonder is one place of refuge."
"Yonder rock! How?"
"I cannot explain now. Come, let us ride more quickly. I feel sure there
is safety!"
For the first time since the daylight came I looked at her face. True,
she had suffered much excitement, fear, and fatigue through the night,
but at that moment the light of hope shone in her eyes. Yes, she was a
beauteous maid, and I wondered not that so many men loved her. I had no
feeling of the sort myself,--at the same time her many fears appealed to
my pity, and, forgetful of my promises, I swore to myself that I would
take her to a place of safety.
"Let us not spare horseflesh!" I cried. "It is but a couple of miles."
I urged her horse forward, but it was no use. The animal was badly
lamed, and it became more painful for him to hobble at every step he
took.
"It cannot be helped," I cried; "my Chestnut can carry us both easily.
There, place your foot on mine, and jump in front of me!"
The maid hesitated as though the thought were unpleasant, but she
overcame her feelings, and did as I bid her, I feeling more than ever
determined to stand by her loyally. Past thirty as I was, the
unaccustomed experience of a maid sitting near me made my blood tingle,
as after speaking to Chestnut we rode through Roche church town. No one
was astir; indeed, the whole village seemed as much unconscious as the
dead who lay near the old parish church. Roche contained only a few
houses, and we quickly passed through it: then turning to the left we
hurried forward towards the rock, which stood amidst a number of small
rocks on the lone moor.
The serving-maid, Amelia Lanteglos, kept close to me, neither did she
make any complaint. Indeed throughout the whole journey she had kept
cheerful, and as far as lay in her power had ministered to her mistress.
Arrived at the rock, I looked around me. There were no signs of
pursuers; indeed all was silent as death, save for the sound of our
panting horses. I looked up towards the masonry at the summit of the
rock, which looked like a chapel, and eagerly sought for some signs of
life. In my eagerness to get there, I had scarcely thought of the
improbability of any one taking up abode at such a place. I had obeyed
the impulse of the moment, without recking its wisdom. Meanwhile
Mistress Nancy stood by Chestnut's head looking at me doubtfully.
"Uncle Anthony," I said; and as if some one rose from the dead, I heard
sounds which seemed to come from the heart of the great rock, and a
minute later I saw Uncle Anthony's face appear at a small window.
"Uncle Anthony," I repeated, "I want your protection. There are helpless
women here who are fleeing from danger."
His eyes rested on me for barely a second, then he turned to the maid
Nancy.
"The shadow of a great rock in a weary land," he said softly. "Come, my
lamb."
A few minutes later he had descended to the base of the rock. "Come, my
lamb," he said again.
With an agility of which I should not have thought him capable, he
climbed up the steep side of his resting-place, carefully helping
Mistress Nancy all the time, until he came to a doorway seemingly hewn
out of the rock; having told her to enter, he rendered a similar service
to Amelia Lanteglos, while I stood and watched him like one dazed.