OF SIR RICHARD'S MEETING WITH THE FOOT-BOYS, AND HIS RETURN TO THE RED
TAVERN
To gain to the abandoned shepherd's hut and rejoin de Claverlok was now
Sir Richard's chief concern. As to what his subsequent course of action
should be he could in no manner determine. He meant, after finding de
Claverlok, to journey onward toward the Red Tavern, either to effect
the imprisoned maiden's release when he reached there, or to win her
away from her abductors should he chance to intercept them on his way.
In carrying forward this enterprise he intended, if it were possible,
to secure the grizzled knight's aid. After that (Sir Richard planned
it all out), a journey to the coast for the three of them, whence
they would take ship for France and push forward to Brittany and Duke
Francis's court. There they might tarry for awhile till he had secured
his patrimony--the which was a something very vague and shadowy to the
young knight--and then, last of all, the great, wide world.
Desiring to minimize the dangers of pursuit and recapture, he took
the first road leading from the main highway, which chanced to be one
winding to the eastward. After about an hour of hard riding, he made
out on the roadway, some distance ahead, the gray figure of a monk
mounted upon a long-eared ass. There seemed to be something quite
familiar to the young knight in the monk's attitude--bent far forward,
with the sharp peak of his cowl alone appearing above his narrow
shoulders.
The churchman turned to give Sir Richard greeting as he was upon the
point of galloping by. It was Erasmus. He arched his brows as though
surprised at thus meeting with the young knight.
"Why," said the scholar, as Sir Richard slowed down and took his easy
pace, "I fancied that long ere this thou hadst joined my good friend,
Bishop Kennedy. We made a vigorous but vain search for thee after that
ambuscade among the Kilsyth Hills. But Lord Kennedy doubted not but
that the good knight, Sir Lionel de Claverlok, would soon fetch up
with thee and bring thee back. Ah! my friend, this fighting! These
direful conspiracies! 'Tis indeed a sad thing for both church and
populace when jealous factions do thus selfishly bestir themselves."
For quite a space thereafter they rode along together in silence.
"Grant me pardon for my seeming impertinence," at length said Erasmus;
"but curious am I to know whence thou hast come, sir knight?"
"I am just riding from Castle Yewe," replied Sir Richard.
"So!" exclaimed the scholar, now lifting his brows in a genuine
amazement. "Methought, sir, that thou wouldst not long survive a visit
there. Ah! But mayhap no message from Henry was delivered to Douglas
during thy stay!"
"Why--friend Erasmus," said Sir Richard, "with my own hand did I
deliver it."
"But----"
"Aye--I know full well what you would say. The original was stolen from
me, I know. In truth, Erasmus, every mother's son in broad Scotland
seems to know. But I had been provided with a copy, the which I
delivered as fast as my horse could bear me to Yewe after my escape
upon the Kilsyth Hills. I know now that it was a warrant upon Douglas
for my undoing, but old fox here stood bravely beside me, and I am
riding beside you to tell the tale. I' faith, since leaving Kenilworth,
Erasmus, much have I learned of the world's merciless cruelties."
"Aye--well mayst thou say so, sir knight," agreed the scholar in a
sympathetic tone. "Listen--and mark well what I have to say," Erasmus
pursued. "There is now, and right here in Scotland, a great conspiracy
upon foot, the which doth involve, sir knight, a throne, and in which
each of two powerful factions is striving mightily to gain but an inch
of advantage above the other. Wouldst listen to the advice of something
of a philosopher, a great deal of thy friend, and a close student of
this question of politics?"
"I would most gladly hear it," declared Sir Richard.
"Then leave this conspiracy-ridden country and embark with me for
France. A right puissant friend thou hast in old Duke Francis, sir
knight."
The scholar's manner was openly and frankly sympathetic and friendly.
Sir Richard was glad to discover one in whom he could confide and in
whom he could repose an absolute trust. He accordingly set out to make
Erasmus acquainted with the story of his pilgrimage from Kenilworth to
Yewe, dwelling, with glowing words, upon the incident of the imprisoned
maid and the cutting of saffron velvet. He gave his vow to do devoir in
her cause as his reason for not adopting Erasmus's advice of sailing
with him for France.
"'Tis a most interesting and thrilling tale," the scholar observed when
the young knight had finished his narrative. "But why imperil thy life
further by remaining here to set free a maid whom thou hast never seen?
A patch of velvet is a dangerously small matter from which to build a
vision of purity and beauty."
"An man wore coat of mail who said thus to me," said Sir Richard with a
smile, "he'd have my gauntlet at his feet upon the instant."
"Nay, nay, my good sir knight--thou knowest well that I am speaking
friendlywise," said Erasmus. "The age of ostentatious chivalry is
passing. Anon will come a time when sane deeds and true shall take the
place of those of bombast and display. I am speaking from my heart and
for thy own good, sir knight. An thou wouldst consent to join me, I
should be most happy."
Sir Richard disavowed any intention of leaving Scotland till he had
accomplished his self-imposed mission. But he was thankful to have
Erasmus for a companion, and continued to ride with him till they came
into the town of Kirkintilloch, where they halted together at an inn,
supping there and making merry till somewhat later in the evening than
Sir Richard had intended to stay. During supper hour they had out their
argument upon the subject of the waning of chivalry. That is to say,
the scholar argued and Sir Richard listened and denied. After that, to
prove to the grave student that chivalry was not in its decline, the
young knight had the buxom serving-maid sew him a cord to the patch of
saffron velvet, whereupon he fastened it above his eye, vowing that he
would not remove it till its fair owner should herself part the string.
About the hour when Sir Richard concluded that he could possibly remain
no longer, there was a sharp driving of sleet against the tavern
windows. Appreciating that there was danger of missing his way in the
darkness and storm, and a warm and comfortable bed appealing more
pleasantly to his imagination than a night ride in the cold, he came to
the conclusion to make a night of it and remain.
When he came down early the next morning there was a thin scattering of
snow on the ground. Upon nearing the tap-room, after instructing the
hostler to bring around his horse, he heard the sound of loud talk and
laughter. He observed the precaution of peering through a window before
venturing inside. He saw, seated about a table therein, a half dozen
guards from Castle Yewe.
Without waiting to receive the inn-keeper's reckoning, Sir Richard beat
a precipitate retreat toward the stables. Ordering his stallion made
ready upon the instant, he tossed the groom a generous handful of coins
and made off at a rattling pace through the dull streets of the little
town.
He soon drew beyond the limits of Kirkintilloch, and came presently
to a road that he fancied would lead him somewhere near to the hut
in which he hoped that de Claverlok would be awaiting his coming. His
search, however, was unfruitful of result. All day he rode, describing
great squares and detours. Upon many occasions he was obliged to plunge
swiftly into nearby forests in order to avoid bands of horsemen, which
seemed to be scouring the country upon every hand. He dared not stop at
another inn, and so took pot-luck in the most remote farm cottages and
herders' huts that he could find. The patch upon the young knight's eye
proved to be a source of infinite amusement to the pastoral folk with
whom he ate and drank.
That night he was forced to seek an asylum within the dismal walls of
a monastery, whereupon he became the unwilling recipient of the good
prior's gentle harangue upon the wickedness of registering licentious
and worldly vows. He charged upon the young knight to seek his Maker's
pardon, and remove the yellow patch, the which Sir Richard quietly
listened to till his head nodded sleepily above the table. The good
father then tendered him his blessing and conducted him to a pallet of
straw in one of the unoccupied cells.
He was away at dawn of the next day to resume his wanderings above the
moors and downs.
When occupying the hut with de Claverlok he had been so intent upon
delivering Henry's warrant to Douglas that he had not troubled himself
to register surrounding landmarks. This, coupled with the fact that
he was now obliged to keep a sharp lookout for straggling guards and
searching parties, rendered his search a most difficult one. Indeed,
though much regretting to do so, he was forced at length to abandon
it, concluding that the wiser plan would be to strike a straight line
in the direction of the Sauchieburn Pass. Upon once reaching there, he
felt confident that he could easily retrace his way to the abandoned
hut.
It was near the hour of compline when, after having ridden a
considerable distance through a forest of pines and hemlocks, he came
upon a road stretching through the wood at a right angle to the rather
narrow trail that he had been following. As he emerged upon this
highroad, which he instantly knew to be the one of which he had been in
search, he heard a sharp noise of crackling and breaking twigs to his
left. With a ready hand upon his bridle, prepared, if need were, to
wheel and bear away, he glanced in the direction whence the sound had
come.
Two mounted foot-boys, wearing the Douglas colors, were upon the
point of leading a third horse--which was caparisoned for a lady's
riding--within the shadows of the trees. Seeking himself to avoid
discovery, Sir Richard was not in fear of those in a similar
predicament.
So--"What, ho there, boys!" he shouted, riding swiftly down upon them;
"can you tell me whether this is the Sauchieburn Pass?"
"Yea, sir knight," one of the foot-boys replied, halting his horse
along the border of the road. "And for a-many a wearisome hour, sir
knight, have----"
"Sh-h-h!" cautioned the other from the bushes. "Remember, Harold, our
heads will surely pay the forfeit of an indiscretion.... Yet, ... 'tis
a tiresome business to be held here for none knows how long in a dark
and dreary----"
"Oh ho!" the first then interrupted angrily, "and who is 't now that's
talking to the ax? Yet--an she would but come--we might return in----"
"Ah ha!" wailed the second; "now you've finished the whole cursed job!
My name's not Thomas, an I give you not a sound buffeting for----"
"A truce to your quarreling," interrupted Sir Richard. "I have other
business, my boys, besides putting your precious heads in jeopardy.
Come ahead, give me your stories after a more complete and less
disjoined fashion. By my knightly sword no harm shall befall either of
you because of the telling--I am ready."
"'Tis thus, good sir knight," spoke the one whom his companion had
called Harold: "Now three days gone our worshipful master, Lord
Douglas, ... on whom may God's blessing rest, ... commanded us to trap
palfrey for a maid, ride upon the Sauchieburn Pass to the southern
extremity of the Forest of Lammermuir and await there her coming.
Upon the maiden joining us we were bade to conduct her, along unused
by-roads, safely back to Castle Yewe. Full two days have we waited
here, sir knight, with nothing better to sleep in o' nights but a thin
tent in the forest. Every hour between dawn and darkness we but stand
here with chattering teeth, idly shivering and watching, without
warrant to sally forward or return. Is 't not, thinkest thou, a sad and
dismal undertaking?"
"That it is, Harold, my boy," Sir Richard heartily agreed. "An you but
give me pause to consider," he added, "mayhap I may find out a way to
aid you in your adventure."
Sir Richard had known at once for whom the boys had been dispatched,
and was relieved to discover that the part of his plan relating to
the imprisoned maiden was turning out so happily. He was puzzled to
understand, however, why the boys had been stationed at such a great
distance from the Red Tavern. It was at least a full day's journey from
that part of the forest to the inn. It occurred to him that Douglas
might have sent guards ahead of the foot-boys, and that when the maid
did put in her appearance, it would be in the company of an armed
band. While he was trying to arrive upon the wisest course of action,
fragmentary whisperings between the foot-boys were carried to his ears.
"By the mass!" one of them was saying, "an it were not for the patch on
the eye, and the scrag o' beard on the chin, I would take my oath that
'tis the very knight who overthrew every fighting Jack in Castle Yewe.
Can'st not tell, Thomas, by the sweep o' the nose o' him, and the sharp
eye--and the brow?"
"Marry! Mayhap, and 'tis," the other said. "I saw him but the once, you
must remember. 'Twas when he cut him down the mighty Sandufferin. He
was certes a----"
"Hark ye, boys," Sir Richard broke in upon their whispered
conversation; "an I agree to yield you somewhat of my assistance, will
you take oath with raised hands not to make mention of this meeting to
thy master?"
Upon such easy terms they both seemed delighted to purchase the young
knight's aid. He thereupon lined them along the road, with uplifted
hands, and caused them to repeat the most solemn oath within his power
to conjure up. Instructing them to await his return, and promising to
do his best to bring along the maiden, he left them smiling by the
roadside and fared on southward.
Within a very short time he had drawn clear of the forest. Looking to
the left, he noted the spur of stunted pines sweeping down over the
moor. Beyond it he could see the bleak dunes and the promontory upon
which had been pitched the pavilion of purple and black. The gray mist
rising out of the sea made an appropriate and effective background for
it all.
His mind was deeply engaged with the subject of his quest, when, upon
rounding a rather lofty brae, he came suddenly upon the Red Tavern.
Surprised beyond the power of speech, thought, or action he reined in
his stallion. For a considerable time he sat motionless, taking in the
different points of the structure. There were left no doubts, when he
had finished with his examination, but that it was the same. With a
redoubled intensity of imagery, the weird tales of the haunted, flying
tavern came trooping back to his mind.
How under the heavens the inn had come there he made no attempt to
fathom. It occurred to him at first that it must have been standing
there all along, but he dismissed this thought when he had noted the
fact that, during his enforced march with Bishop Kennedy's company, he
would have been obliged to pass beside its door. That it was indeed
there, and a palpable something to be accounted for, however, he could
no longer deny.
"Well," Sir Richard at length concluded, "I made my entrance upon this
mysterious series of mishaps through yon sinister door. 'Twould be most
fitting that my exit from them should be by the same route."
Whereupon, like a man in a trance, he rode up, dismounted, and knocked
aloud upon the red-daubed planks.