OF A QUARREL AND A CHALLENGE
The road through the forest wound steadily upward, and when they had
left behind them the red moors and braes, the heaving, shimmering sea,
they gained no view of the open, and but scant glimpses of the sky,
so thickly interwoven were the leafy branches above their heads, till
they had emerged upon a furzed and brambled down that commanded an
uninterrupted prospect for many miles around.
The scene then spread before them was one of superb grandeur, and well
repaid them for their march of five hours up the long and tedious
slope, of which the point where they were now come marked the extreme
summit. The sea had disappeared out of the range of their vision, and
in every direction the land dipped away in a myriad of mounds and
hills, with splotches of golden gorse dotting their tops and sides,
till the last of them was lost in a purple haze that hung above the
indefinite, circular rim of the horizon; a fleecy wrack of clouds
tossed before the light wind across the deep blue dome of the sky.
These, speeding between sun and earth, sent patches of light and shadow
in a swift pursuit of each other up and down over the breast of the
sweet landscape as though they were playing at some pretty game.
Here, word passed among the men that they might dismount to bait
themselves and their horses and enjoy a brief period of rest before
resuming the march. Amidst resounding talk and laughter they clambered
out of their saddles, tethered their steeds where the grass grew most
abundantly, and proceeded to make themselves comfortable, after the
campaigner's fashion, by sprawling at full length upon the velvety
turf in the agreeable warmth of the sun. Meanwhile, serving-men were
addressing themselves to the work of gathering armfuls of dried hemlock
twigs, building fires over which to warm the pastys, and broaching
casks of stum.
A bright-faced youth, who had evidently been appointed equerry to Sir
Richard, approached and signified his readiness to take charge of
the young knight's horse. Sir Richard dismounted, gave the reins into
the youth's hands, and joined Lord Kennedy, who was leaning against a
curiously stunted cedar that grew from the brink of a steep declivity
near at hand. Within his mind, Sir Richard had applied the nickname
of "Taciturnitus" to his silent companion of the morning, and he
was surprised to observe the grim warrior-churchman drinking in the
glorious scene with a keen zest of which he had deemed him altogether
incapable. For quite a space they stood side by side, silently
contemplating the diversified beauties of the landscape that unrolled
before them from the sky-line to the base of the cliff.
Here and there, filmy pennants of white smoke, indicating the location
of shepherds' cottages, would fling from behind the masses of foliage
upon the farther hillsides. There was but one structure visible,
however; a rambling pile of gray stone, shot with a trinity of
embattled towers, which was nestled along the slope of a down, some
three leagues distant from where they were standing.
"What is that building yonder, my lord?" queried Sir Richard,
indicating its location with outstretched hand and finger.
"That," replied Bishop Kennedy, "is the Black Friar's Monastery. Our
way, sir knight, leads directly beneath its sealed portcullis, which is
opened but once in the year, and then only for the purpose of admitting
its annual quota of novices. The final glance of the probationer's eye
upon a free earth and heaven embraces this bit bonnie scene. When he is
quit of the damp cell and noisome cloister, the crypt, lying within the
belly of the hill, becomes the final repository of his lime-bleached
bones."
While Bishop Kennedy was talking Sir Richard's attention had been
directed toward a solitary traveler, who was drawing near along the
road that wound around the foot of the cliff and swept over the hill
upon which his captors were bivouacing. The pilgrim was mounted upon a
round-bodied, slow moving and remarkably long-eared donkey, which was
exactly of a color with the rider's voluminous, cowled robe. As he came
within easy view it could be seen that he was diligently poring over
some sheets of manuscript. It appeared not to annoy the reader in the
least when the donkey stopped, which it did every little while, to
scratch its underside with its hind hoof.
"Well, by my Faith!" exclaimed Bishop Kennedy, with a display of
genuine enthusiasm upon catching sight of the pilgrim.
"You know him, my lord?"
"Yea--that I do, Sir Richard. Upon the round back of yonder ass rides
a scholar, sir knight, whose fame will one day be proclaimed over all
the land. Aye--and whose name shall live when thine and mine have
been erased along with the epitaphs upon our tombs. Let me crave thy
indulgence, and call another to keep thee company, whilst I go forward
to embrace my friend Erasmus."
"De Claverlok, attend us," he then called to the grizzled knight, who
was sitting beside one of the roaring fires and skilfully balancing a
pasty above it upon the blade of his halberd.
De Claverlok quickly gulped down the remainder of the contents of the
flagon beside him and came toward the two men wearing a good-natured
smile, smacking his lips aloud and wiping his beard with the back of
his broad hand.
"The wine is to thy liking, I perceive," remarked Bishop Kennedy dryly.
"Ah!" exclaimed the grizzled veteran heartily, "there's nothing, my
men, that can equal it. Give me drink with the must in 't every blessed
day of the year, ... eh!"
"Thou art ever filled with ardor, de Claverlok, when the meat and drink
are in question," observed Kennedy with a faint trace of a smile. "But
canst forget thy loves long enough to keep companionship with our guest
whilst I go forward to meet my friend riding below?"
"Certes will I bear the sir knight company," the grizzled knight
instantly agreed. "And I need not desert my loves in doing so, ... eh,
... my boy?"
Whereupon he led Sir Richard to a seat beside a hastily constructed
table, made of two broad planks set lengthwise above a pair of empty
casks. Over it, fluttering and crackling in the crisp, invigorating
breeze that blew across the mountain, was stretched an awning of purple
and black, which the young knight took to be a part of the pavilion
beneath which he had been so mysteriously transported, and beneath
which that morning he had so strangely awakened. The Renegade Duke,
with a partially empty tankard at his hand, was already seated before
a steaming pasty. From the violent red of his nose and cheeks it could
easily be seen that he had been making rather too free with the stum.
Besides painting his round face, it had provided him with the fool's
courage to unmask his hatred of Sir Richard, at whom he glared across
the improvised table with an open defiance. At first he was careful to
preserve a sulky silence, but by the time he had emptied a few more
flagons he grew noisily vociferant, and would likely have opened the
quarrel then and there, had it not been for a now and again lustily
delivered nudge of de Claverlok's mailed elbow.
He was sufficiently himself, however, to relapse into silence when
the Bishop joined them with his youthful friend, whom he addressed
intimately as Gerard, but introduced to the three men as Erasmus.
The scholar's loose robe did not wholly conceal the angularity of
his figure. His cheeks, though almost painfully hollow, were touched
with the olive bronze of winds and weathers. His nose was unusually
prominent, but cut fine at bridge and nostril. His brow, classically
moulded, was deep and broad at its base. Altogether, his physiognomy
was remarkable for its combination of severe austerity and innate
generosity and kindliness.
"It would seem," said he, seating himself beside the table between
Bishop Kennedy and Sir Richard, "that the flower of knighthood is
gathered here to look upon the flower of Scotland's scenery. I wonder,
sir knights, that the restful peace of yonder view does not communicate
itself to your martial breasts and render you brothers-in-love of all
the world."
"Thy business it is to think, dream, and observe, Gerard," said Lord
Kennedy, "and ours to act. The world is yet too imperfect to receive
thy teachings, my friend."
"Yea--that it is," agreed de Claverlok between bites. "With us it's
eat, drink, rest betimes, and then away. I'll wager, though, our gear
sits lighter on our shoulders than your robe, ... eh?"
"Right readily do I grant you that, sir knight," returned Erasmus
smilingly. "This robe, in truth, is one of the heaviest of my burdens.
There would be many a naked back, my lord," he added gravely, turning
toward Bishop Kennedy, "an the robe were to be stripped from every
bigoted hypocrite. It grieves me to admit my belief that steel girded
breasts are uniformly more steadfast to their principles than those
enveloped within the robe and cowl."
Thus, during the hour of eating, Erasmus held Lord Kennedy and Sir
Richard enthralled with the charm and compelling influence of his
colloquy, in the course of which he explained to them that he was then
journeying from a monastery at Stein to enter the services of the
Archbishop of Cambray, and that later it was a part of his plan to go
on to Paris, where he intended pursuing his studies under the continued
patronage of his amiable and generous master.
Had the scholar touched at all upon the subject of battles, or of
deeds of martial gallantry, it is possible that he might again have
enticed de Claverlok to give ear. But as it was, that bluff warrior
yielded himself in his most heartywise to the business of devastating
the remainder of the pasty before him, and maintaining a constant
void within the pewter flagon beside his plate. As for the Renegade
Duke, Sir Richard noted that his vapid smile had resolved itself into
something approaching a drunken leer, and that beneath his vain twaddle
there ran a distinct undercurrent of thinly veiled sarcasm. It grew
apparent that he was striving desperately to mask his quarrel with
the young knight from the understanding of Lord Kennedy. In this Sir
Richard was assisting him to his uttermost. Some time before he had
conceived the idea that a quarrel and subsequent duel, which he hoped
that his blatant guard might secretly arrange, would provide a likely
means of escape.
That their combined efforts were unfruitful of misleading the shrewd
Bishop was soon made apparent; for, before leaving from beneath the
awning with Erasmus, he took the grizzled knight aside, talking
earnestly with him for several minutes.
"I am but going to make Erasmus acquainted with some of our famous
fellows," he was explaining to de Claverlok, "and shall soon return.
Above all things, Sir Lionel," he warned in a whisper, "keep a close
eye on the Knight of the Double Rook. Before we came to yonder table
I had disquieting news from the scholar from Bannockburn way. Douglas
is arming to oppose us, and planning to invade England for a purpose
similar with ours. I fear me that he is familiar with every happening
within our camp, and doubts have arisen within me as to the Renegade
Duke's integrity to our cause. An I am not mistaken, there is a plan
afoot to defeat our purpose of delivering the young noble within our
northern stronghold. There's something mightily wrong, de Claverlok.
Not a breath have I heard from our captive regarding the King's warrant
taken from his pouch by Sir James; and yet is he as eager as an
unhooded falcon to escape and fare away upon his journey. How it would
boot him to go on, I cannot make out. Remember, sir knight," Bishop
Kennedy concluded sternly, "that henceforth thou art held responsible
for the youth's safe detention; ... by thy knightly oath do we hold
thee."
"Aye, my lord," was the extent of de Claverlok's reply, though his tone
and manner indicated his determination to be faithful to the trust
imposed upon him.
While the three men were seated beneath the awning awaiting Lord
Kennedy's return they espied along the road, which wound like a tawny
worm beneath the portcullis of the Black Friar's Monastery, a single
horseman careering swiftly in the direction of the hill upon which
they were stationed. As the rider drew nearer, they could see the
glint of the sun's rays upon the burnished trappings of man and horse.
Without exchanging a speculative word, their glances followed him till
he disappeared at a point where the ochre road was swallowed up in a
patch of brilliantly colored gorse. He had likewise been sighted from
elsewhere upon the mountain top, for a band of horsemen sallied down
from the place of the bivouac and met him precisely at the spot where
he again issued into view from behind the bushes. Then, wheeling, they
bore him company up the declivitous road. Coincident with their meeting
with the men awaiting them above there was a loud shouting of "Douglas!
False Douglas, the traitor!" Whereupon Lord Kennedy could be seen
striding among them, a trumpeter winded a blast "To horse," and then,
amidst a frenzied waving of pennoned lances, the hitherto quiet scene
became alive with the scurrying of mailed feet, the noise of creaking
saddle girths, the hoarse cries of men, and the loud neighing of horses.
Sir Richard, unable to interpret the meaning of this sudden warlike
demonstration, and wondering much at the use of the name of Douglas,
regarded it in the light of a most opportune happening. For one thing,
it had rid him temporarily of the presence of de Claverlok, who was
swinging furiously down the slope bellowing aloud for the Duke's horse,
for Sir Richard's, and his own. The young knight at once availed
himself of the opportunity of resuming his quarrel with the Renegade
Duke; and, as he regarded him scornfully across the board, that
individual arose and bowed low before him. In despite of Sir Richard's
aversion toward the man, he was obliged to pay tribute within his mind
to his singular grace and perfect assurance.
"Why all this mock courtesy," said the young knight quietly, arising
also to his feet, "when your blade, my brave Duke, dangles so near to
your hand?"
The Renegade Duke stole a glance behind him down the hill, and smiled
insolently, coolly, delaying thus his answer for a considerable space.
"The battle-ax, or mace, sir knight," he said then, "would better suit
our deadly purposes." He was not above looking to the advantages of his
superior weight in offering this suggestion. Moreover, horsemanship
played an important part in this kind of warfare, and the Duke was said
to be a master horseman. "Yet----" he added the word and then paused
reflectively.
"Yet what?" returned Sir Richard. "Out with it ere de Claverlok return
to thwart the perfecting of our arrangements."
"Yet--" repeated the Duke slowly, again looking behind him down the
hill, his lips still raised from off his teeth in a maddening smile, "I
dislike me much to remove the single champion of a maiden in distress.
Would you not consent to grant to me the legacy of effecting the fair
one's release?"
The violence of Sir Richard's anger, scattering every vestige of
prudence to the winds, might easily have resulted in defeating his well
laid plan to escape. For, no sooner had the Duke finished, than the
young knight found himself standing with his emptied tankard in his
hand, while his enemy, with a diaphanous lace kerchief, was daintily
wiping the dregs from it off his face. The fact that he missed a
drop of the wine, which remained hanging from one of the ridiculous
points of his upturned mustachios, sent Sir Richard into a paroxysm of
laughter.
"An it comes to the question of a legacy, Renegade Duke," he stifled
his merriment sufficiently to answer, "I shall do my mightiest to have
it from you to me. An I make no mistake, my fine fellow, I shall gain
the missive you have pilfered before the day is done."
While Sir Richard was speaking, de Claverlok was seen to be approaching
at a swift gallop with their horses.
"Till we meet," returned the Duke quickly, "it shall again be yours.
When your bonnet was being burnished this morning it rolled from out
the fillet to the pavilion floor." Whereupon, having explained his
possession of the note, he tossed the bit of paper before Sir Richard
upon the table. Then, as de Claverlok drew rein and called aloud for
them to mount--"Which shall it be," he whispered, "mace, battle-ax, or
sword?"
"Battle-axes, at cock-shut time," Sir Richard hastily answered, moving
in the direction of his waiting horse.
"Battle-axes at cock-shut time," repeated the Duke. Then, with a
sweeping bow, he held the young knight's stirrup for him to mount.
"Battle-axes at cock-shut time," he said again. "Thou hast laid a
command upon me, ... Liege!" he added, with the last word hissed low in
Sir Richard's ear as he vaulted lightly past him into his saddle.
"Liege?" thought the young knight to himself as he rode onward down
the road beside de Claverlok. "Why all these ceremonious bows? This
calling of me a _noble_ knight? This strange captivity? Why should
I--I, Richard Rohan, knight, and lowly messenger of the King be thus
curtseyed to and addressed? And what mean these subdued mutterings
among the men of 'A traitor in camp,' 'Douglas playing false and
arming,' 'Tyrrell outmaneuvered'? Fates defend me. I had liefer set my
lance against the Dragon of Wantley than make an attempt to unravel the
deep mysteries by which I am this moment surrounded."