OF A NIGHT IN A SHEPHERD'S HUT, AND A SURPRISE IN THE MORNING
So far as qualities of speed and endurance were concerned, Sir
Richard would have willingly matched his powerful stallion against
any in Scotland. Having no fear, therefore, of the possibility of
his recapture, he settled himself with some comfort in his saddle,
enjoying a great measure of satisfaction in the belief that he would
soon outdistance his pursuers. That he was indeed being followed he was
left in no manner of doubt, as not for a single instant did the ring of
hoof-beats pause at the spot where his late adversary had sprawled so
ignominiously into the brambles.
Being wholly unaware as to the number of miles that might stretch away
between himself and Castle Yewe, he deemed it unwise to urge his mount
to top speed. Besides, the road along which he was forced to travel
was not over-free from scattered boulders and rather steep of descent.
He accordingly contented himself with making haste slowly, as the
saying goes, maintaining a long, easy, sweeping stride, and observing
every possible precaution against the accidental stumbling or laming of
his horse. Moreover, in the thin, clear air of the uplands the rattling
of steel hoofs against the flinty earth would assuredly carry for the
greater part of a league. For this reason he entertained but slight
hope of throwing his pursuers off his trail till the character of the
soil became changed.
Twice within the distance of the flight of an arrow the road swerved
sharply to the left, which rendered it quite impossible, on account of
the tangle of bushes that shot high above his crest on either hand, to
ascertain how closely they were following at his heels, or how many
were engaged in the chase. At times he could have sworn that there was
but one. Then, when he would be just upon the point of drawing rein,
purposing to try conclusions with that which he supposed to be his
single foeman, the surrounding foothills would carry to his ears the
echoes of a battalion of flying horsemen, whereupon he would touch
spurs to his stallion's side and scurry hot-footed up and down dale
until the sounds had dwindled again to a mere faint pattering in the
twilight distance.
Two full hours of hard riding did not suffice materially to alter the
positions of pursuer and pursued. By then the moon had shot clear of
the hills, adding her pallid luster to the clear, star-powdered vault,
and still Sir Richard could catch the faint pounding of persistent
hoofs at his back. Arriving presently at a point where a wider roadway
forked to the left, he decided to take his way along that. He was
gratified to find that it yielded soft to the hoof, muffling to a
considerable extent the hitherto loud noise of his flight.
Sprinting madly for the distance of something near an eighth of a
league, he dismounted and led his tired horse within the shadows of a
thick wood, fringing the highway to the northward. Tethering him to a
tree at a safe distance from the road, he then retraced his way rapidly
but cautiously toward the juncture of the two highroads. Purposing
through this simple stratagem, should chance favor him, to have a look
at his pursuing enemies.
The young knight enjoyed a quiet laugh at his own expense when he
discovered that his flying battalion of horsemen had narrowed down
to one, and that one, de Claverlok. His rugged profile was set fair
against the enormous face of the moon, as he drew to a stand not above
a dozen feet from where Sir Richard lay concealed. Distinctly the young
knight could see his grizzled head, a silhouette of black against a
yellow circle, showing as clear and clean cut as a finely chiseled
statue.
It was easy to gather that de Claverlok was in two minds whether to go
straight ahead, or to turn to his left into the forking roadway. Now
he was inclining his head in a listening attitude. From away in the
distance, and ever so faintly, came the clatter of the galloping hoofs
of a single horseman. This sound set an instant period to the grizzled
knight's perplexity. Forthwith he turned his charger's head straight to
the northward, and in a flash was spurring furiously from the vicinity
of the bushes where Sir Richard lay hidden.
Keeping well in the brush, the young knight waited till the noise of
de Claverlok's flight had merged within the solemn quiet of the night;
then, returning to where he had tethered his horse, he led him to the
highway, mounted, and, after somewhat of a less impetuous fashion than
before again resumed his lonely journey.
He had ample leisure thereafter to indulge himself in meditation.
Indeed the young knight was enjoying his first quiet interval since
his entrance into the Red Tavern and his meeting with Tyrrell, whom he
still regarded as nothing more than a most extraordinary inn-keeper.
Again his mind reverted to the maiden; he recalled with a thrill of
pleasure her soft whisper, and the kiss through the wall. He thought
of the bit of cloth and the note, and immediately grew less lonely
than before. They yielded him a sweet companionship that he was quite
willing to accept without attempting to define. Through his ardent
maze of speculation, however, Nature obtruded with her realities, and
he became conscious of the keen, frost-laden air, and of his fatigue
and hunger. He was ready to admit that the twinkling lights of an inn
would have afforded him a most welcome and agreeable sight.
Sir Richard was destined to be denied this pleasing spectacle, as he
had now ridden as far as discretion allowed without glimpsing a sign of
a habitable shelter. But as he drew clear of the forest he caught sight
of a hut that stood not far from the road within an open meadow. He
rode up to it, discovering it to be an abandoned shepherd's dwelling,
bleak, uninviting, and dreary. Between this and the cosy corner of an
inn abounding in appetizing odors was something of a far cry to be
sure. But it was the best that seemed likely to offer for the night;
and, desolate, lonely, and utterly cheerless as it was, he nevertheless
gave thanks for the mere rude thatch that would at least protect him
from the tingling air. A rough lean-to had been constructed against the
side of the hut beneath which he secured his horse, a great armful of
half-dried grass serving for the animal's feed. Once inside the hovel,
by tearing out a plank or two from the rotting floor and disposing them
within the rude fireplace he soon contrived to kindle a blaze that
warmed him pleasantly to sleep.
So fatigued was he that, in despite of his hunger and thirst, his
slumber was of the soundest. Perhaps the assurance that he would likely
awaken in the same spot where he had closed his eyes contributed
its mite to his comfort of mind and body. At all events he remained
undisturbed till well along in the morning. When he aroused himself and
opened his eyes the slanting rays of the sun were falling fair upon
them through the sashless window that opened upon a fairylike view of
hill and forest. He was stretching and yawning himself more fully awake
when he was startled suddenly into that condition by a huge shadow
moving across the devastated floor. He looked once; then, rubbing his
thoroughly surprised eyes, looked again.
Upon the sagged doorsill sat the ubiquitous de Claverlok. He seemed
quite unaware of the young knight's awakening, being busily intent upon
the burnishing of his helmet, and cocking his grizzled head drolly
from one shoulder to the other the while he held his gleaming bonnet
at arm's length the better to view and admire the result of his lusty
rubbing. The glittering top-piece, catching a ray of the sun, shunted
it straight into Sir Richard's dazzled eyes. For a second or two
thereafter he could see nothing above a brilliant splotch of red, with
the massive outline of de Claverlok looming gigantic in its center.
When he was recovered of his transitory blindness, he made a hasty
examination of the wall against which he had constructed his bed of
leaves and boughs. Saving for a narrow vent-hole set high above the
floor, and in the corner of the room farthest from where he was lying,
it was unpierced by door or window. Sir Richard could not restrain a
smile of quiet amusement as he thought of the famous prank he might
have played upon the unconquerable old warrior had there been a
sufficient opening near at hand to give exit to his body.
As it was, ... "_Well!_" he shouted at de Claverlok upon a sudden, and
at the very limit of his lungs.
Deliberately, and with the most impassive unconcern, the grizzled
knight set his helmet upon his head.
"Give thee a right good-morrow, Sir Richard," said he, smiling broad
and friendlywise over his shoulder. "Judging from the quality of
thy slumber, I should say that thy conscience is mightily clear and
babelike, ... eh?"
"Clearer it should be than thine, ... leech!" Sir Richard retorted.
"Much am I perplexed over thy presence within this hut this morning.
Methought that yester eve I had bade thee adieu for all."
"Aye, ... and good quittance, well riddance, thou didst think, ...
eh? But thou wert remiss, my son, in not bethinking thee to yield me
a parting handclasp. I am come to remind thee of thy discourteous
oversight, and, what's better, to offer thee wherewith to break thy
fast."
"Thou dost but mock mine hunger, de Claverlok, which is most ill
beseeming from an unbidden guest within my door."
"Pooh, pooh! guest within thy door, indeed. 'Tis thou who art jesting
now, ... eh! But, i' truth, I am not mocking thee, sir knight,"
protested de Claverlok. "Why, thinkest thou that these bonnie plains
and downs are barren of grain and fowl, ... eh? Or that my hand and
tongue have lost their cunning? But, tell me, my good Sir Richard, art
indeed bereft of thy nostrils?"
When the young knight raised himself upon his elbow he became aware of
the appetizing odor of a roasting fowl, which had not quite dropped to
the level of his reclining head. In the fireplace behind him he saw
that it had all along been sizzling upon an improvised spit, and that
beside it there was an iron pot that was sending its cloud of steam
merrily up the deep black throat of the chimney.
"I observe," said Sir Richard, rising and going to the door, "that thou
art ever thoughtful of the inner man. But, withal, de Claverlok, I like
thee right well, and were it not that thou hast designed to constitute
thyself my guardian and captor, full gladly would I call thee friend."
"Your hand, Sir Dick, and let us say 'tis so. Your good friend and
true have I been since first I clapt my eyes upon your fresh and open
countenance, ... eh! By Saint Dunstan, but I wish that I dared tell
you a thing or twain as to the reason for my guardianship," he added
fervently. "That I am such is the fault of an untoward circumstance of
which for the present you must perforce remain ignorant. That I am
your captor, ... well," he laughed, "and whose fault is 't, ... eh? You
were a free man but yester night, my boy."
"Aye," returned Sir Richard; "and ill did I conduct the business
of eluding you. But, marry, man! Here's my hand of friendship, for
as friend I insist upon regarding you--and not captor--my good de
Claverlok."
Smiling broadly, the grizzled knight grasped and heartily shook the
young knight's proffered hand.
"From this old tongue," said he, "you shall hear no denial of your
claim. But a truce to soft sayings, ... eh? The fowl doth cry aloud
from yon spit. The ale is mulled to that degree of perfection where it
would tickle the palate of Epicurus himself. The air is growing heavy
with the fragrance of toasting cheese. Let us, I pray you, break our
fasts and be off. Our journey doth stretch long before us, and the day
grows apace."
They thereupon sat down together upon the doorsill, the hollow of
de Claverlok's broad and scrupulously burnished shield serving as
salver for the meat, bread and cheese. They took turns at the ale out
of the mouth of the earthen jug beside them. When they had finished
breakfasting, they went to the lean-to and made ready their horses.
"Do our ways diverge at yonder road?" carelessly asked Sir Richard, as
he swung himself into his saddle. "Or shall I be so fortunate as to
have you for my companion during a part of my journey?"
"Well, ... by the sun that warms us! Marry, but you are a refreshing
youth!" exclaimed de Claverlok, adjusting his breast-plate and
gathering his buckler over his left arm. "An I wot my name, Sir
Richard, you are to journey wherever I lead, ... eh!"
"Be in a hurry then, my friend," suggested the young knight pleasantly,
but firmly, "to become again acquainted with yourself. I go my own way,
sir, e'en an my sword or lance must reckon with the hindrance."
By this time the grizzled warrior was seated in his saddle, and had
gathered his reins in his hand for the start.
"Which direction is it your wish to travel, my son, ... eh?" he
inquired, making as if to submit to Sir Richard's desire.
Withdrawing a chart out of the wallet dangling from his baldric, and
making note of the position of the sun and the length of the shadows,
the young knight indicated, without speaking, a point midway between
north and northwest upon the glowing line of the sky and hill.
"By 'r Lady!" exclaimed de Claverlok, causing his armor to jingle with
the heartiness of his laughter, "but I am fair sorry that you are not
ignorant of every trick of travel-lore and wood-craft, else might I
have conducted you to a place not so imminently dangerous to your
handsome----" He ended the sentence by touching his head and sweeping
his hand in a circular motion around the base of his corded neck.
"Methinks 'tis an easy hazard," returned Sir Richard lightly; "and I
have made choice of accepting it. The choice was made for me before I
started, I should have said. An our ways lie together, though, friend
de Claverlok, mayhap you would spare the time to show me how to pick
up a trail by moonlight. 'Tis a right pretty trick--and after flying
after a false scent, too. A right pretty trick."
"Yea--and the very devil's own time had I to compass it. What with
the going astray, and the getting down on my knees in the dust, I had
scarce an hour's rest between the welcome sight of you asleep within
the hut and sunrise, ... eh! I wot you were watching me beside the
road near the fork, for I saw your marks along the thornhedge. A right
nice prank that was to play on an old campaigner, ... eh? And am I a
night-capped grand-dam, think you, to lose that which has cost me so
much to gain? I'll be damned, Sir Dick, an you are not this moment my
captive, ... eh!"
"Right glad am I to claim you friend, de Claverlok," maintained Sir
Richard, guiding his horse toward the highway; "but I must deny you the
right to call yourself my captor. My first escape was an honorable one,
effected through force of arms. An I must escape again, let it be in
the same manner. Though much do I regret that our friendship should end
thus. I leave to thee, sir knight, the choice of weapons."
"Fiends and furies fly away with every kind of weapon!" roared de
Claverlok; "an they are to be wielded between you and me. Would I be
keeping my knightly vow by spitting you upon my lance's head, ... eh?
By the Rood! You would tempt me to set myself in a class with that
foul toad, the Renegade Duke, ... eh? Ah! but how I did laugh to see
him kicking and cursing amidst the thorns. I would you had put an end
to him, Sir Dick. Yesterday, an I wot myself, began a tale of black
treachery, my young friend, to which the false head of that court dandy
shall furnish an appropriate and bloody period."
By this time they had come to the road where, as though by common
consent, they reined to a halt for further parley.
"An you refuse to give me battle, de Claverlok," said Sir Richard a
trifle impatiently, "you must permit me to take my own way, as I am
determined not to go yours, unless indeed it be in a helpless and
disabled condition, and trussed fast to the back of your barb. How say
you, sir knight?"
"How say I, ... eh?" muttered the grizzled warrior within his curly
beard. "What can I say, would be more to the point, it would appear.
The hungry vultures, I'll swear, would be the only gainers from a tilt
at arms between us. And beshrew me, Sir Dick, an I am of a mind to
strew the sward with your precious body. As for mine--well--I am not so
partial to vultures as to wish to feast them upon my carcase. But tell
me," he added, looking keenly into the young knight's eyes, "why are
you so stubbornly determined upon making your way into Castle Yewe; can
it be that Douglas is your friend, ... eh? You know full well that you
have not the King's paper."
"And a right sorry moment it was for me when I permitted it to be
stolen," returned Sir Richard with an angry frown. "Aye--it is true
that I cannot now deliver the original, but I have a copy, my shrewd
friend--a copy, hear you? And I mean to place it within Lord Douglas's
hand as swiftly as my steed can bear me within the sallyport of Yewe.
Was your hand, de Claverlok, concerned in the purloining of the
original?" he finished sharply.
"Nay--not mine. A copy say you, ... eh? God! what a mess of pottage is
this! You could not be prevailed upon to rip this parchment open and
read its contents, ...?"
"Well, by my soul! What says the man!" exclaimed Sir Richard
indignantly. "Friend or no friend, de Claverlok, another word from you
upon that score and there'll be an end of peace between us"; whereupon,
urging his horse into a swinging canter, he set off in the general
direction of Castle Yewe.
"So, ... lead on, Sir Dick!" shouted the grizzled warrior, setting
spurs to his mount's side and quickly galloping beside Sir Richard. "I
am at once your captor and your slave. Your follower and your guide.
Saint Dunstan grant me the strength to keep your foolish head from
harm. And when you're done with thrusting yourself into hornet's nests,
... eh! then shall I be waiting to lead you to a place of temporary
peace and safety."
"Temporary safety?" queried Sir Richard. "What mean you by that, de
Claverlok?"
"'Twill be but temporary," the young knight's companion asserted
warningly. "There are many things that this moment must seem full
strange to you, ... eh? Yea--but, an I can keep your head upon your
shoulders through this wild adventure, it will be but to yield you into
another hornet's nest awaiting you in the end," he finished somberly.