HOW I CAME TO CONISBY SHENE
It being yet full early for my purpose I took to the woods, and
presently chancing upon a little stream that bubbled pleasantly 'mid
shady willows, I sat myself down within this greeny bower and fell to
watching the hurrying waters of this brook and hearkening to its drowsy
murmur. And lying thus, with the good green world around me, the sunny
air blithe with the mellow piping of birds and the soft wind rustling
the leaves about me--what must I have in mind but bloodshed and the
destruction of my enemy, insomuch that reaching a stone from the brook
I drew the knife from my girdle and set about straightening the blade
thereof.
I was thus employed when all at once the leaves on the opposite side of
the brook were parted and a girl-child appeared. For a long moment we
eyed each other across the brook, then all at once her pretty lips
curved to a smile.
"Little maid," says I, furtively thrusting the knife into my belt, "art
not afraid of me then?"
"Nay!" she answered, smiling yet and shaking her golden head.
"And why?"
"I do like your eyes, big man, kind eyes they be!"
"Are they?" says I, glancing from her smiling innocence into the brook.
"Aye, and your voice--I do like that too--'tis low and soft--like
father's."
"And who's your father?"
"He be th' blacksmith."
"How old are you?"
"Seven, an' a big maid I be. Will 'ee aid me 'cross t'brook, now?"
So I lifted her over and there we sat, side by side, she laughing and
talking and I hearkening to her childish prattle with marvellous great
pleasure. Presently I ventured to touch her soft cheek, to stroke her
curls, and finding she took this not amiss, summoned courage to stoop
and kiss her.
How long we had sat thus I know not, when I was aroused by a shrill,
harsh voice and turning, beheld a bony woman who peered at us through
the leaves.
"Susan Ann!" she cried. "O you Susan, come away! Come quick or I'll
run for your mother."
"The child is safe enough!" says I, frowning, but clasping the small
damsel closer within my arm.
"Safe?" cries the woman, turning on me in fury. "Safe--aye, for sooth,
wi' a great, ill rogue the like o' you! Loose her--loose her or I'll
scream and rouse the village on ye for a wild gipsy wastrel that ye
are!" And here the old harridan railed at me until the child whimpered
for fear and even I blenched before the woman's fierce aspect and
shrewish tongue. Then, while she loaded me with abuse, a ceaseless
torrent (and no lack of breath), I kissed the little maid's tear-wetted
cheek and, setting her back across the brook, stood to watch until the
child and woman were lost to my sight. Then I sat down, scowling at
the hurrying water, chin on fist, for my black humour, banished awhile
by the child's innocent faith in me, was returned and therewith an
added bitterness. Scowling yet, I plucked forth my knife and seizing
my staff, set to trim and shape it to a formidable weapon; and as I
worked I cursed this woman deep and oft, yet (even so) knew she had the
right on't, for truly I was a rogue, an outcast of unlovely look and
unlovely ways, a desperate fellow unfit for the company of decent folk,
much less an innocent child; and yet, remembering those fearless
child-eyes, the kiss of those pure child-lips I sighed amain betwixt my
muttered cursings.
At last, having trimmed my bludgeon to a nicety, I laid it by, and sat
brooding, the knife betwixt my knees; now a beam of sun falling athwart
the leaves lit upon the broad blade of the knife and made of it a
glory. And beholding this and the hand that grasped it, I took
pleasure to heed how strong and sinewy were my fingers and how the
muscles bulged beneath the brown skin of my forearm; and turning the
glittering steel this way and that I fell to joyous thought of my enemy
and of my vengeance, now so near.
"To-night!" says I to myself, "Death ever cometh with more terrors in
the dark! To-night!" But now, little by little, my joy gave place to
anger that the night must be so long a-coming; and, glancing up, I
cursed the sun that it must needs shine and the gladsome day that it
was not grim night. And presently to anger was added a growing fear
lest mine enemy might (by some hap) elude me at the eleventh
hour--might, even now, be slipping from my reach. Now at this a sweat
brake out on me, and leaping to my feet I was minded to seek him out
and end the matter there and then. "Why wait for to-night?" I asked
myself. "Surely in the gladsome light of day Death findeth an added
bitterness. Why wait for night, then?"
So I stood awhile debating within myself, then, catching up my knotted
bludgeon, I set off along the stream incontinent, following a path I
had trodden many a time when but a lad; a path that led on through mazy
thickets, shady dells and green coppices dappled with sunlight and glad
with the trilling melody of birds; but ever as I went, before my eyes
was a man who twisted in my grasp and died, over and over again, and in
my ears the sounds of his agony. And ever as I went trees reached out
arms as if to stay me and bushes stretched forth little, thorny fingers
that caught my garments as if to hinder me from my purpose. But I
brushed them aside with my scarred arms or beat them down with my heavy
staff, o'er-leaping hedge and ditch and fallen tree until I reached the
highway, and even as I came there a distant clock chimed the hour of
ten. I quickened my pace, twirling my staff as I went, so that the two
or three wayfarers I chanced to meet drew from my neighbourhood and
eyed me mightily askance. Having gone thus some mile or so, I came to
a wall that bordered the road, a high and mossy wall, and following
this, to a pair of gates set well back from the highway, with pillars
of stone each surmounted by a couchant leopard carved in the stone.
Now these gates were of iron, very lofty and strong and fast shut, but
besides these was a smaller gate or postern of wood hard by the
gatehouse where stood a lusty fellow in fair livery, picking his teeth
with a straw and staring at the square toes of his shoes. Hearing me
approach he glanced up and, frowning, shook his head and waved me away.
"Here's no road for the likes o' you!" said he while I was yet at some
distance. "Off wi' you!" Howbeit, seeing I still advanced he clapped
to the gate, and letting fall the bar, cursed me roundly through the
grille.
"I would see Sir Richard Brandon!" says I.
"Then ye can't--nowise. So be off and be danged!"
"Open the gate!" says I.
"Be hanged for a murderous-looking rogue, a lousy thief, a wastrel and
a hangdog knave!" says he all in a breath.
"All true enough!" says I. "And now, open the gate!"
"Be danged for a prigging gipsy--'A Gad! I'll have ye clapped i' the
pillory for a black-visaged clapper-claw!"
"Unbar!" says I, "Or it shall go plaguy ill wi' you when I come in."
At this he spat upon me through the grille and chuckled. Now, glancing
about, I espied a stone hard by about the bigness of a man's head and,
laying by my staff, I wrenched the stone from where it lay and, raising
it aloft, hove it with all my strength; whereon the gate crashed open
so suddenly as to catch the fellow a buffet that laid him sprawling on
his back, and as he strove to rise I pinned him down with my staff and
kicked him heartily.
"And now," says I, "up with you and bring me to your master."
But or ever he could do aught but groan and rub his hurts, I heard the
sound of approaching hoof-strokes and, turning, beheld a lady bravely
mounted who galloped furiously towards us down the avenue. When almost
upon us she swung her powerful beast aside and, checking him with
strong wrist, sat looking down at me from the shade of her plumed hat.
"What is this?" she demanded, and her eyes swept over me grey and wide
and fearless. "Who--who are you?"
Now at the sound of her voice so rich and wonder-sweet, I felt
strangely abashed and, finding no word, turned from her to scowl down
at the man I had pinned beneath my broken shoe.
"Who are you?" she questioned again. "Speak!"
"A rogue!" says I, keeping my head averted. "A creeper o' hedges!"
"Ah--is't you?" said she in softer tone. "I saw you for a moment by
lightning-flash near the gibbet. You are my man o' the woods, and,
sir, I owe you much--very much--indeed, sir, if--"
"I am no 'sir'!" quoth I shortly.
"Gregory," says she, looking down on the fellow 'neath my foot.
"Gregory, get up!"
"Gregory," says I, "stir not!"
"Sir, would you hurt my servant?" says she, knitting her slender black
brows.
"I' faith!" I nodded. "The uncivil rogue forced me to burst open the
gate."
"And why are you here? Who are you? What is your name?" cried she a
little breathlessly, and I wondered at the fixed intensity of her gaze.
"Gregory," says I, taking my foot from his middle but threatening him
with my staff, "I am come for no traffic with maids, so rise up and
bring me to your master."
"Nay," groans the fellow, turning up his eyes, "'tis thing impossible,
here's only my lady--"
"And I seek your master--is he within?"
"Nay," says Gregory, flinching beneath my staff, "as my lady shall tell
'ee--he is not here."
"Ha!" quoth I. "That will I see for myself." But as I turned to
stride up the avenue, my lady wheeled her horse, barring my way.
"Whither go you?" she demanded, her eyes holding mine.
"To the house for Sir Richard. I have been at some small pains to gain
speech with him."
"To what end?"
"Why truly," I answered, leaning upon my staff and viewing her eye to
eye, "'tis a matter of vital moment, aye--in a manner of speaking--'tis
a matter of life and death betwixt us." Now as I stood thus I could
not but be conscious of her glowing, vigorous beauty, her body's noble
shape and the easy grace of her as she sat her fretting horse, swaying
to his every movement. And to me, in my rags, she seemed no woman but
a goddess rather, proud, immaculate and very far removed; and yet these
proud lips could (mayhap) grow soft and tender, these clear eyes that
met mine so fearlessly--
The staff was wrenched from my loosened grasp and Gregory, leaping to
his feet, fetched me therewith staggering blow on blow, shouting with
his every stroke:
"Ho--Peter! Roger! Will! Ho--hither, lads all! Loose the
dogs--hither to me, 'a God's name!" But, though mused with blows, I
rushed in blindly and, closing with the fellow, got him fairly by the
throat and shook him to and fro. And now was I minded to choke him
outright, but, even then, spied a cavalier who spurred his horse
against me. Hereupon I dashed the breathless Gregory aside and turned
to meet my new assailant, a spruce young gallant he, from curling
lovelock to Spanish boots. I remember cursing savagely as his whip
caught me, then, or ever he could reach me again, I sprang in beneath
the head of his rearing horse and seizing the rein close by the bridle
began to drag and wrench at the bit. I heard shouts and a woman's cry
of fear, but I strove only the fiercer, while up and up reared the
great roan horse, snorting in terror, his forelegs lashing wildly;
above tossing mane the eyes of his rider glared down at me as, laughing
exultant, I wrenched savagely at the bridle until, whinnying with pain
and terror, the great beast, losing his balance, crashed over backwards
into the dust. Leaping clear of those desperate, wild-thrashing
hooves, I found myself beset by divers fellows armed with staves, who
closed upon me, shouting; and above these, her eyes wide, her full, red
lips close-set, my lady looked down on me and I (meeting that look)
laughed, even as her fellows rushed at me:
"Go cosset your pretty springald, wench!" But even then, dazed and
half-blinded by a hail of blows, I staggered, sank to my knees,
struggled up again, smiting with bare fists. A flame seemed to flash
before my eyes, a taste of blood was on my tongue, and all sounds grew
faint and far away as, stumbling blindly, I threw up my arms, tripped
and plunged down and down into an engulfing darkness, and knew no more.