OF THE DELIVERY OF THE KING'S WARRANT
The main gateway that gave entrance to the outer bailey was
impressively wide and lofty. Once inside, postern gates opening upon
either hand admitted into the great halls, rooms of state, and the
donjon-keep. Besides these, and at regular intervals along the vaulted,
winding passageway, the walls were pierced by iron-clad doors giving
upon the same premises. When the opening of this main artery had been
sealed by the drawbridge, which fitted tight against it, nothing of
daylight filtered in, and it received its only illumination from a
number of huge cressets, two of which were set high overhead at every
turning, and kept constantly filled with glowing coals by the castle
attendants.
Before each of the nail-studded doors stood two guards armed at point,
their halberds planted firm before them, grim and motionless. In the
dim radiation from the iron baskets they assumed the appearance of a
rank of immovable and awesome statues that might well have been hewn
out of the smoke-distained walls before which they were stationed.
When Sir Richard and de Claverlok had ridden past the second turning
they were confronted by a solid line of them, stretching from wall to
wall across the flagged floor directly in their path. To the right,
one of the doors stood wide ajar; a bevy of men and women, sumptuously
garbed, appeared within the bright rectangle. A fool in motley was
posing against the pillared casement. It was like a painted picture,
vivid, touched with brilliant colors, set within an enormous, dark, and
gloomy frame.
A train of pages, dressed in liveries of slashed silk and velvet, stood
ready to conduct the two travelers before the lord of the castle. At
a sign from one, who, because of his distinctive uniform, one would
have taken to be the major domo, they dismounted and relinquished their
horses into the care of equerries; then, bringing up in the rear of
the train of pages, they made their way up the steps and through the
thronged doorway.
"God's sake! Sir Dick," exclaimed de Claverlok in an agitated whisper
as they were traversing the length of the vast hall into which they
were come, "Give not that paper to Douglas. Let me have but a word
with you in private before adventuring an act so deadly dangerous to
your person, ... eh?" In the extremity of his eagerness to gain his
young friend's consent he caught his arm in a viselike grip, as though
meaning forcibly to detain him.
"Take your hand from off my arm," warned Sir Richard sullenly. "'Twould
be most unseemly to have out our quarrel here, de Claverlok."
"Quarrels? What quarrel, ... eh? There's no quarrel between us, my boy."
"Aye--but I tell thee there is," maintained Sir Richard. "Much hath
thy treachery grieved and amazed me, worthy knight, whom I had come to
consider my stanch friend."
"Treachery, ... eh? What the devil! God wot, my son," de Claverlok
hurriedly pursued, "I am not traitor--listen----"
"Have a care, de Claverlok, the guards are looking," whispered the
young knight warningly. "And not a word with you, I say, till I've
delivered the King's paper. Think you I have foughten my way here for
naught? No inkling have I of the purpose of your company in stealing
the parchment and in their attempt to hinder me from reaching here. But
the copy goes to Lord Douglas as fast as----"
"Cannot you but wait an hour, ... eh? Hell and furies! Never can I
forgive me my stupidity in allowing you to come within this house of
death," interrupted de Claverlok. "There's death in that paper, I
say--death!"
"Death; what mean you?"
"Aye, death! Death to thyself, an thou must hear the truth. 'Tis a
warrant for your own execution, Sir Dick."
"De Claverlok, you lie in your bewhiskered throat," returned Sir
Richard in a menacing undertone.
"Never before hath man said that word to me and lived," declared the
grizzled warrior gloomily. "But I forgive you, Sir Dick. Aye, I forgive
you. An you'll but consent to wait an hour, I'll hear you asking my
forgiveness. You can do it, my boy,--you can wait. Say to Douglas that
thou art an emissary of Henry, who hath but journeyed here to yield to
him thy sovereign's good wishes. Tell him that I am your companion and
squire. Mayhap 'twill answer for my present safety."
"First dive within the moat and fetch me your dripping lance. 'Twould
be a most befitting badge of your loyalty to me to lay before him, de
Claverlok."
"You would be at this moment in a far better case," observed the
grizzled warrior bitterly, "an it had taken you in the small of the
back, where I intended it should land. You know damned well 'twas
hurled butt foremost, ... eh? By the Rood, boy, answer me."
Sir Richard hesitated; then, measuring his companion's earnest look,
nodded in the affirmative.
"I'll do it," said he, "though a plague take me, an I think you deserve
it. But whereof be the good, an your act were seen from barbacan or
shot-hole?"
"I'll take my solemn oath 'twas driven at the door," observed de
Claverlok, smiling in open gratification at having achieved his point.
"You'll delay the blessed paper, too, ... eh?"
"Nay--that I dare not do," whispered Sir Richard decisively. "Even
now unmeasured harm may have resulted from my egregious blunder in
permitting the original to be stolen. An ill messenger have I been, de
Claverlok--an ill messenger."
"You'll persist in delivering the paper, ... eh?"
"Upon my soul. Yea."
By now they had reached to the foot of a broad flight of steps leading
to a gallery that completely girdled the hall. Already the pages were
strung halfway up the stairway, awaiting for the two men to follow.
"Await me here, de Claverlok," added Sir Richard in a tone indicating
his determination to finish his errand as he started up the stairs.
"By the gods, you'll not go!" roared the grizzled knight in a transport
of infuriated rage, whereupon he made a sudden leap at Sir Richard,
catching him with a bearlike hug around the middle and dragging him to
the floor of the hall. "Give me that paper," he whispered in the young
knight's ear. "Give it to me, Sir Dick!"
"What meaneth this?" shouted a stern voice from above that rang to the
vaulted dome of the chamber. "Separate me those brawlers, guards!"
In the wink of an eye a cloud of the Douglas retainers had swooped down
and torn the fiercely struggling men apart. There followed a momentary
lull during which the two stood glaring into each other's eyes.
"Which of thee hath an errand with Douglas, and what, pray, may it be?"
resumed the voice from the gallery.
Ranging along the balcony behind him, Sir Richard's eyes fell upon a
burly, broad-shouldered man standing with arms folded on the threshold
of an open door.
"I am bearer of a message from King Henry, my lord," answered Sir
Richard.
"And who is thy combative friend?" queried Douglas. "Why this row
within my very hall, sir knight?"
"'Twas but a slight misunderstanding, my lord," Sir Richard instantly
replied. "May I now bring to thee the paper?"
"Aye, that may you. But who is thy friend? Thou hast not answered me."
"My companion and squire, Lord Douglas. I bespeak for him thy pardon.
Though he meaneth right well, he is ever thoughtless and rude."
"So it would seem. Bring me King Henry's message. Keep me yonder
belligerent in leash, my men," Douglas added, pointing toward de
Claverlok, who was still tossing the guards about in a vain endeavor to
free himself from their smothering grasp.
Sir Richard strode past the struggling, heaving mass of humanity,
and then, on up the stairway. Upon reaching the landing he turned to
his right to where Lord Douglas stood within the door leading off
the jutting balcony. The young knight paused for a moment to glance
downward above the railing toward de Claverlok. The grizzled warrior
had evidently signified his intention of remaining quiescent, for
the guards had loosened their hold of him and he was standing mutely
against one of the columns that shot from floor to ceiling at regular
intervals around the entire length and breadth of the hall. His arms
were folded, and he was gazing straight up into the face of his
young friend. The beribboned courtiers and brightly dressed women
were standing at a discreet distance, gaping at him. It reminded
Sir Richard of an eagle that had dropped its pinions in the midst of
a swarm of brilliant-winged, fluttering moths. He noted as well the
expression of sad reproach with which the veteran was regarding him.
If ever sincerity was stamped in the features of man it was surely
displayed in the rugged countenance of de Claverlok, and from that
instant the young knight divined his erstwhile companion to be as
stanch and true as the steel of the Damascus blade at his side.
"Thou'lt find me here, Sir Richard," de Claverlok called up as the
young knight turned to enter the door through which Lord Douglas had
but just preceded him. When he came into his cabinet, after traversing
a number of curtained passageways, Sir Richard found the bluff Scotsman
pacing impatiently back and forth across the floor. He paused when the
young knight entered, greeting him formally from his station in the
center of the room.
"From King Henry," said he, when the document, fresh from its hiding
place, had been surrendered into his hands.
Signing Sir Richard to be seated near a massive, carved oak desk,
Douglas dropped into a high-backed chair before it, broke the great
red seal and addressed himself to the business of reading. When he had
finished perusing the document he laid it face downward upon the desk
and leaned back in his chair, tugging at his wiry, black beard, and
knitting his fierce brows deeply. During an interval of several minutes
he remained in this attitude, stealing occasional glances of searching
inquiry in Sir Richard's direction and muttering inaudible sentences to
himself.
"That this paper hath reached within the walls of Castle Yewe, sir
knight," he at length said, speaking with a cold deliberation, as
though carefully weighing each word, "is certes an indisputable proof
of thy absolute integrity as a messenger."
"Nay--but----"
"Tut, tut! Say not a word till I have digested this matter within my
mind," interrupted Douglas. Whereupon he took up the parchment and read
it through carefully a second time. Then, getting up from his seat,
he resumed his impatient march across the floor. As Sir Richard sat
studying the Scotsman's movements, he fancied that he had never seen
a combination of features more suggestive of unfaltering determination
and grim pugnacity. Douglas's head was not over large; and his cheek,
chin, and crown were covered with a thick mop of jet black beard and
hair. He moved his burly figure awkwardly, like one who was more
accustomed to riding than walking.
"By the mass!" he suddenly ejaculated. "'Tis, in truth, a riddle far
too deep for me to unravel. Why hast thou delivered me this message,
sir knight?" he queried sharply, halting before the bench whereupon Sir
Richard was sitting.
"Why?" returned the surprised young knight. "Does it not speak for
itself, my lord? At the behest of my sovereign liege have I brought it
here; and much doth it shame me to confess that ill have I requited my
beloved and noble master's trust----"
"Ill requited? What's this the young knight's saying?" Douglas burst
forth. "Beshrew me, young sir, an I wot how!"
"Well--'tis but the duplicate I have rendered unto thee, Lord
Douglas. The original I carelessly allowed to be stolen by a band
of free-lances from whom I did escape but yester eve. Tell me," he
added anxiously, "will harm result because of my unpardonable lack of
caution?"
Douglas, with arms akimbo, was standing directly in front of Sir
Richard and looking straight down into his eyes.
"Save to thyself," he replied slowly, apparently having satisfied
himself as to the truth of the young knight's statement, "no harm
can possibly befall. Mayhap, an thou hadst not lost the original, I
should have adopted another course than the one now forced upon me.
But--wherefore, Sir Richard, didst thou not join issues with Tyrrell
withal?"
"Tyrrell?" the young knight replied in a thoroughly puzzled way; "i'
faith, my lord, I know not the man--though I did hear that name called
by the outlaw band by which I was held captive."
"Well, well--so thou knowest not Tyrrell?" ejaculated Lord Douglas.
"Yet certes, man, you tarried a night under the roof of the Red Tavern,
and rode for a day in his company of conspirators? Either you are the
cleverest of dissemblers, sir knight, or else, forsooth, the embodiment
of sluggishness! Nay--regard me not thus in anger--I accept every
word of your astonishing denial as God's truth--every word. Have
I not before stated that this document here proves your steadfast
honesty? Have you never heard of Tyrrell, hireling of Crookback
Richard--strangler of two drooling boys in the tower? By my soul, man,
where have you been reared?"
"In Brittany, my lord," Sir Richard returned, his face aflame with
honest resentment. "There, in Duke Francis's court I learned my lessons
with the Earl of Richmond, now my beloved King. I do recall that once,
on London Bridge, I saw the head of one, Dighton, slewing on a pole.
'Twas he, methought, who did the tower murders."
"Tut, tut! What ignorance! Somewhat of history, Sir Richard, you have
yet to learn. That fellow was but Tyrrell's tool and groom whom Tyrrell
himself murdered for playing him false. Lady Douglas shall take you in
hand and teach you a thing or two of past events. I would hear now,"
he added, seating himself beside Sir Richard, "your account of your
journey from Kenilworth. I beg of you, omit no incident that may seem
to you trifling, as you love your King. It is a most important and
grave matter, this, Sir Richard."
"I'll do it willingly, my lord," the young knight acquiesced, and
thereupon began narrating his adventures. It took him an hour or more
to finish, during all of which time Lord Douglas sat quietly beside
him, with his elbows planted firmly upon his knees and his face pressed
against the palms of his hands. At times he would run his fingers
through his hair, or tap with the heel of his boot upon the floor.
Sir Richard's tale ran smoothly enough till it came to the point of
accounting for de Claverlok's companionship. Here he stumbled slightly,
being obliged to draw largely upon his imagination. He accomplished
it in a fairly acceptable manner, however, and in a way that he hoped
would seem natural. Though he was unable to see how harm could befall
either the grizzled knight or himself in the event of the truth being
told. Not for a moment had he credited his companion's statement in
respect of Henry's message containing matter inimical to its bearer.
But he paid the veteran the tribute of believing him to be absolutely
sincere, and forgave him accordingly, absolving him from any blame
because of that which Sir Richard supposed to be his misjudged zeal in
attempting to withhold the delivery of the parchment.
When the young knight had finished his story, Douglas arose and took a
few turns across the room.
"Extraordinary," he kept repeating half to himself; "most
extraordinary!"
Presently he resumed his seat before the desk, remaining silent there
for awhile, and tapping with his fingers upon its polished top.
"Thou canst not appreciate, I know," he said at length, "how completely
thy story hath absorbed my interest. I would that I could delve beneath
the surface and unearth some of its mysteries. Tut, tut! What am I
saying? Let them take care of themselves. Full often have I found, Sir
Richard, that the deepest mysteries of to-day become the most loudly
heralded sensations of to-morrow. Now, an thou'lt but sign thy name
across the back of this parchment, I'll take thee into the presence of
the lady of the castle. But--hold! I'll have witnesses."
Then--"MacGregor," he called aloud, and in reply to his summons a lank
individual arose above a tall desk standing in a corner of the cabinet
quite as though he had been materialized out of a world of spirits.
Douglas whispered his instructions in the scrivener's ear, and he
hurried away, presumably to gather them in.
They entered presently--ten of them there were--mumbling, whispering,
shaking their powdered heads in a kind of unison, till the white dust
sifted upon the floor like particles of glittering snow. Standing
somberly in line behind a long table, awaiting turns to set their names
beneath Sir Richard's, they reminded him of a row of solemn, nodding
jackdaws. Not being in a position to appreciate its gravity, the scene
amused rather than awed the young knight. Not in the remotest degree
did he surmise that he was henceforth to be but a wooden image--a
carved knight, if we may be allowed the simile--progressing obediently
from square to square over the checkered board of a complex conspiracy
whenever they extended their lean fingers to make the move.
"Remain," Lord Douglas said, when the last of them had written his name
beneath the young knight's. "Await my return and we'll hold further
council here," whereupon he took Sir Richard's arm, expressing his
intention of presenting him to the lady of the castle.
"Now that I have delivered the King's message, my lord," said the young
knight as they were passing along the gallery and down the stairs, "it
is my desire to be soon upon my way. On the morrow, an there be nothing
further here for me to do, I shall fare southward toward Kenilworth."
"Tut, tut! Sir Richard. Be not in such haste to bid us adieux. We are a
right merry throng here in Castle Yewe, and thou canst pass thy hours
with us full pleasantly. Thy errand, besides, is not yet done. 'Tis
thy sovereign's wish that thou shalt bide in Scotland yet awhile as my
guest. But yonder is Lady Douglas, to whom I shall surrender thee for
the present."
After introducing the young knight, Douglas begged the privilege of
talking a moment with his wife in private. A page led Sir Richard to a
seat within an alcove of the hall, where he remained, looking out of a
window at a company of infantry drilling in the castle yard till Lord
and Lady Douglas had finished their rather lengthy discourse.
"I'll see thee at the wassail board this evening, Sir Richard,"
said Douglas, who had accompanied his wife as far as the curtained
entrance to the alcove. "Thou art indeed happily come. To-day is the
twenty-fifth of the month--the feast of Crispian will be spread in
the state hall. I have made thy squire comfortable in my retainer's
quarters," he added, and then retired to his room above where the
jackdaws were awaiting to hold their council.