OF A JOUST WITH BULL BENGOUGH, AND THE INCIDENT OF THE KNIGHT IN BLACK
A deep sense of guilt caused by his momentary surrender to Lady Anna's
blandishments stirred a very tempest of remorse within Sir Richard's
mind, which vented itself in a torrent of bitter words directed toward
his fair seductress. All cold and calm and smiling she listened to the
young knight's list of accusations.
"Fickle boy!" she said with a gay laugh when Sir Richard had finished.
"Know you not that a late repentance is like the wind that blows above
an empty sea? But let me tell you, Sir Richard," she added, abandoning
the tone of light mockery in which she had first spoken, "that events
are transpiring right well for you. Have but a mite of patience....
Wait, and see," whereupon she coolly replaced his poniard within the
holder dangling from his baldric, reached for his hand and signified
her desire to have him accompany her below. "'Tis a right bonnie and
sharp blade, that," she said, referring to the poniard, "and did part
the rope full smoothly. But come, Sir Richard. Lord Douglas is waiting
to have speech with you."
"By the mass, Lady Anna, and how came you upon my plans?" Sir Richard
sullenly inquired when they were come at length into the gallery of the
griffins' heads.
He remarked that the sliding panel had been thrown wide open, and that
half a score of attendants bearing flaring rush-lights were awaiting
their mistress's coming. They all grinned within their beards as the
young knight passed before them.
Lady Anna looked up into Sir Richard's eyes and smiled brightly.
"Ah! Sir valiant knight," she returned, "much have you yet to learn.
Never should you confide a secret to a weak and lovelorn boy. Let
me explain: Wishing much to have an immediate audience with you, my
lord dispatched a messenger to the great hall. You were not there. A
round of your accustomed abiding places failed to discover you. Your
private chamber was searched, but without result. Entertaining somewhat
of a shrewd suspicion of my own, which was speedily verified by our
fair-haired, youthful friend, I sought you upon the tower, ... errant
boy! The rest you know."
Sir Richard made no answering comment. His mind was taken up with de
Claverlok. He was wondering what the generous warrior would be thinking
of him. With no more than a curt good-night, he parted from Lady Anna
at the head of the jutting balcony.
He found Lord Douglas awaiting him in his own chamber. The same in
which he had delivered Henry's warrant less than a month ago. Douglas
received him with a gracious cordiality, his red bewhiskered face all
of a-wrinkle with genial smirks and smiles.
"So, so! Sir Richard," said he, rising and extending the young knight
his hairy hand. "You have played the leech, I hear, and have delivered
a suffering old warrior out of the womb of Castle Yewe? Well--well!"
pausing to roar with laughter; "I looked upon the fellow as your dire
enemy, and mewed him up for hurling treacherous lance at you. I pray
you, and why did you not affirm that he was indeed your friend?"
"Said I not so at the foot of the stairs upon the first moment of my
arrival here?"
"Yea--that you did. But I bethought me that you were but reserving
him for your own vengeance. Why--you might have had him free for the
snapping of your fingers. Marry--marry! How often do we struggle
mightily and in secret for a thing that we might gain in the open, and
but for the simple asking."
Deeds that to Sir Richard appeared valorous, and partaking somewhat of
the essence of that chivalry which he strove always to emulate, were
thus dismissed as mere boyish escapades. His embarrassment and chagrin
became more profound than ever.
"By'r lady! An I could but borrow the ears of an ass, I'd be armed at
point device," he ruefully declared.
"Nay, nay, Sir Richard, say not thus," replied Douglas. "An all the
asses' ears were properly bestowed, let me tell you, our four-legged
friends would every one be bereft of those useful appendages. Have
done, my young friend, with vain repining. Your act of this night
pleases me passing well. Though, an you had left us, as you came
perilously near doing, you would have broken your knightly word. For,
in the games of to-morrow, did you not agree with Mistress Douglas to
break a lance with Bull Bengough? But enough upon that subject. Your
head was all awry upon your shoulders. You were not heedful of such
slight obligations. Mark you well, Sir Richard, I wished that you
should be brought hither so that I might tell you that, upon to-morrow
night, following the games, there's to be a conclave held within the
council hall. You shall be present. Something then shall you hear that
will set your eyes wide open. Some things shall you know that will
put you in a better case with yourself than you have ever been. And
then, there is another matter of which I wished to speak," he went on,
lowering his voice to as soft a tone as he was able to command; "'tis
concerning the bit of saffron velvet. You have kept that from me, Sir
Richard, but Lady Anna has told me all. What would you say now, my
friend, an I told you that I had dispatched emissaries to fetch the
maid to your side?"
"What mean you, Lord Douglas? The young lady is imprisoned, and her
jailor is even this moment within Castle Yewe."
"How know you that?"
"I saw him through the window of the secret passageway."
"Aye--true, there is a window," returned Douglas in a tone indicating
his regret that such was the fact. "And did you hear what he said?"
"Not a word could I hear," Sir Richard openly confessed.
Douglas had been nervously twisting and untwisting his beard. Upon
hearing the young knight's negative reply he heaved a deep sigh of
relief.
"'Twould have mattered little, an you had," he said. "Well--'twas
Tyrrell whom you saw. And henceforward our issues are to be joined. At
the meeting to-morrow you shall know everything."
"When will the maid arrive? Through what means will your men effect her
freedom? Does Tyrrell know?" was Sir Richard's volley of questions.
"Nay--Tyrrell does not know. 'Twas at the suggestion of your good
friend, the Renegade Duke, that I sent for her, who has but just this
eve arrived within the castle. He has been laid up with a sickness. But
give you a good-night, Sir Richard, and get you to your bed," Douglas
concluded, getting up to pull the bell cord above his chair and again
tendering the young knight his hand.
Like one walking in a dream, Sir Richard followed the smoking
rush-lights of the two pages who were awaiting to lead him to his room.
For the third time the words of the unhappy youth, Perkin Warbeck, were
recalled vividly to his mind--"A phantom in the midst of phantoms,
moving in a fog of mystery."
A sound body overcame an uneasy mind and conscience, however, and he
slept peacefully through the fog, with nothing more alarming than
a multitude of shadowy de Claverloks to inhabit his dreams. In the
morning he was awake betimes, broke his fast, and then wandered out to
view the lists, which would soon resound with the huzzas of excited
spectators, and the tumult of friendly striving.
To the northward of the walls of the castle tents were thickly dotted
over the hillsides, the blue smoke of their fires rising high into the
keen, clear air. Horses were tethered to almost every tree; oxen were
moving about over the slopes, grazing the frosty grass. In the open
spaces knots of men and women were gathered, eating, drinking, and
singing. Snatches of their rude songs reached to the young knight's
ears as he stood watching the interesting spectacle.
Within the space reserved for the uses of the knights who were to
engage in the games, he noted a pavilion bearing his cognizance
emblazoned above its entrance. He walked across, stopping in front
of it to look up along the decorated stand, with its ribbon-twined
pillars, its manifold pennants, its blaze of multi-colored banners all
snapping and fluttering in the crisp breeze. It was a brave sight, and
sent Sir Richard's blood tingling through his veins. He grew conscious
of a keen desire to feel the first shock of the combat.
By now other knights were passing beside him, many of whom were not
strangers to Sir Richard's prowess with the sword. They gave him
the morning's greeting and passed within their tents. Heralds and
pursuivants, dressed in the brightest and gaudiest of liveries, were
moving busily about the tilting-yard, engaged upon their tasks of
observing that everything was in cap-a-pie order. Presently Lord
Douglas and his retinue of inseparable jackdaws entered the stand
across the covered bridge that gave into it from the castle. They
moved in a body to the front and bowed in concert, wishing him a row
of solemn good-morrows. Sir Richard grew to speculating as to what was
taking place within their teeming brains. He wished that he might have
lifted their coverings for a moment to have a peep within.
Upon returning their ceremonious salutations, he parted the curtained
entrance and walked within his tent.
No sooner was he come inside when a seam opened to the right,
disclosing a hand holding a parchment with ribbons dangling from its
great seal. Sir Richard instantly recognized it to be the document
that had been stolen from his wallet. The seam gaped wider then, and
Tyrrell's grim visage appeared above the hand.
"Hist!" he whispered low. "I essayed to speak with thee last night
within thy chamber, but armed guards were stationed without thy door.
Mark ye well what I say, Sir Richard Rohan, for I must perforce say
briefly. Here is the message from Henry to Douglas, which I took from
thee on the night thou didst tarry within the Red Tavern. Mighty well
is it for thee that it was purloined, ... else thou wouldst not have
been here to-day. But another of similar import is likely any day
to arrive from Kenilworth. Thou art in direst peril. Read it, Sir
Richard. But not now.... After I have gone.... I dare not long remain.
Thy life and mine would pay instant forfeit were I to be discovered
here. Hark ye, ... closer! That red striped lance yonder is worm eaten
to the core. I have one for myself hewn from the same piece of wood.
When we shall be called opposite in the lists, ... mark ye, now, ...
forget not to couch that stick at me. It will shatter to the hilt,
as will mine own. At our next meeting, with fair lances, thou shalt
have the northern stand. When the trumpet winds, plunge rowels into
thy steed's belly and charge at me. But do not engage my shield or
person. Gallop by me and make straight for the gate, which will be open
and packed with gaping peasantry. I have stationed there two score of
brawny men and true, who will part a way for thee. Ride on through
and make southward along the Sauchieburn Pass. I will execute a swift
demivolte and follow closely at thy heels, appearing to give chase. An,
perchance, I fail of getting away with thee, go swift to the Red Tavern
and await there my coming. Zenas will be looking out for thee. An I
come not, ... well, ... Lord Kennedy shall bear thee messages. Hist!
At thy door there. 'Tis the man I have bribed to sew up this rent.
Admit him, Sir Richard, and give thyself to the reading of the warrant.
Adieu!"
Tyrrell thereupon withdrew his head, and the man went about mending
the rent. Sir Richard seated himself upon a stool, holding the
unopened parchment. Even now he hesitated before reading its contents,
believing that it would be a violation of King Henry's trust. He became
convinced, finally, that it was a duty that he owed to himself to
do so, whereupon he unfolded and began perusing the warrant. Having
finished reading, he crumpled the paper and thrust it beneath his
breast-plate. For a long time he sat motionless, with his hands knotted
together upon his knees.
"This--this from Henry!" he thought. "Henry whom I have revered and
loved and called companion from very childhood! This from the comrade
by whose side I fought upon the field of Bosworth!"
A something there was went out of the young knight's life during that
bitter moment which he felt that nothing could ever supplant.
Beyond a certain set firmness of his lips that had never been there
before, however, when he stepped outside his tent, Sir Richard
exhibited no traces of the fierce battle that had been waged within
him. He took the seat that had been provided for him in front of his
pavilion, and apparently surrendered himself to the full enjoyment of
the games, which, by now, were in full swing. He even stamped his feet,
clapped together his hands, and "bravaed!" with as unrestrained a
vociferance as the most boisterous onlooker in the field.
Beginning next the stand, Sir Richard's tent was the first. Immediately
beside it, Tyrrell's had been pitched. The redoubtable Bull Bengough's,
who did not put in his appearance till well along in the day, was set
beside the gate, the final one of the row.
The young knight remarked well his appearance as he shot into the lists
to meet the victor of every preceding combat. The champion up to that
hour.
His horse was a silver-gray stallion, broad hoofed, with fetlocks
sweeping from above them to the ground. In the matter of gigantic
proportions, the warrior bestriding its broad, round back, was in
perfect keeping with the steed. He was harnessed in a suit of highly
polished steel armor, fluted and damascened. He wore his beaver up, and
the features displayed within the opening of his casque were singularly
brutal. His eyes were like two glittering beads, hard and pitiless.
Above them his black brows marked an uninterrupted and nearly straight
line from temple to temple.
When everything was ready and the signal had been given, Bull Bengough
charged, bellowing like his bovine namesake, upon his adversary. By
sheer force of his superior weight and strength he vanquished his
antagonist. Without making the slightest show of acknowledgment of
the loud burst of acclamation that greeted his prowess, he rode on to
the southern extremity of the lists, where he drew rein, disdainfully
awaiting the signal to have at his next opponent.
With the customary long preamble, the heralds announced Sir Richard's
name. Two grooms led his stallion to the front of his pavilion. Leaping
lightly into his saddle the young knight cantered his horse toward his
allotted station in the field.
His name was called through many pairs of lips as he passed beneath the
stand. The young knight had won many friends and fair adherents during
his stay in Castle Yewe. He signified his appreciation of their good
wishes by reining to a halt before the stand and bowing gracefully to
the spectators. There followed a renewed burst of applause and laughter
when his stallion gravely bent his head, as though in a similar
acknowledgment. It was a pretty trick, and one that Sir Richard had
spent a great deal of time and patience to teach.
Now, with casques tight closed, Bull Bengough and Sir Richard were
awaiting the signal to charge. There was a sinking of many-colored
scarves beneath a sea of staring, tense-drawn faces. A profound silence
settled over all the field.
They shot away together at the first note of the trumpeted signal. From
the start Sir Richard couched his lance at Bull Bengough's helmet.
As well might he have attempted to overthrow one of the Pyramids of
Egypt, as to have essayed the upsetting of his burly antagonist through
engaging the center of his impregnable shield. On account of the young
knight's lesser weight, and the superior nimbleness of his horse's
hoofs, he met Bengough a yard or more beyond the center of the lists
and well within his own territory.
The extreme bulk of his great body rendered the impact of Bengough's
treelike lance against Sir Richard's shield like a collision with a
mountain avalanche. The young knight felt himself shaken to the very
backbone. If the wood had held, it might have been that Bengough would
have sustained his wide reputation by sweeping his antagonist off
his seat. Luckily for the young knight, however, it shattered to the
grasp, and, with speed but slightly diminished, Sir Richard rode on
through, with his lance's head wedged fast between the eye-slits of his
adversary's helm.
After that it was like sliding a filled hogshead backward off of
a moving platform. Sir Richard fancied that he was sensible of a
trembling of the earth when Bull Bengough alighted upon it.
Thereupon, amid the loud huzzas of the spectators, the young knight
rode to the front of his pavilion and commanded his squire to bring him
the red-striped lance. Tyrrell, his next opponent, was riding slowly
northward to take his place there at the end of the lists.
Compared with his meeting with Bengough, Sir Richard's contact with the
knight in black was almost featherlike in its softness. Their lances,
couched well and true, both shattered to their grasps.
It became now the young knight's turn to take the northern stand for
the next course. He looked southward toward the open gate. It was
choked with humanity, swaying this way and that in wide, serpentine
curves. The task of clearing an open space there had already begun.
Upon the sound of the trumpet's blast they made for the meeting place
in the lists. But the knight in black was not for a moment in Sir
Richard's eye. He saw but the gate, and within it the crowd of densely
packed peasantry. Beyond opened out a wide sweep of sloping downs, of
free roadways, and welcome forest glades.
He had a fleeting picture as he flashed beneath the arched gateway of
a line of determined, stern-faced, brawny men pushing and thrusting
as though their very lives depended upon it. They contrived to clear
him the narrowest of avenues, which closed together when he had passed
through like the waters of a riven sea.
Sir Richard stole a swift look above his shoulder. Tyrrell, moving at
a snail's pace, was vainly endeavoring to free himself from the living
mass that was eddying about him. Like a pair of long flails, he was
waving his arms above his head, and calling down the wrath of Heaven
upon his late antagonist for not halting. In the present case his
talents as an actor were standing him in good stead. Behind him men
were streaming wildly from the stand. Just as the young knight plunged
within the forest shadows he heard a bugle wind the _tucket-sonuance_.
Throwing aside the now useless lance, Sir Richard stretched low along
his stallion's neck and sent him pounding over the frozen road at top
speed.