OF HOW ONCE MORE THE YOUNG KNIGHT JOURNEYED SOUTHWARD
Tyrrell appeared singularly nervous and distraught; and, after
having finished with the brewing of the nostrum, was for setting out
immediately upon his journey with Sir Richard to the tavern. But
the young knight remained firm in his determination not to leave de
Claverlok till he was well assured of his ultimate recovery. His great,
sinewy frame had been sore racked with fever, Tyrrell told him, and it
would be many weeks ere de Claverlok could be expected to regain his
usual health.
It was late in the evening when the foot-boy, Harold, returned from
Bannockburn with a doctor. This good man was a fat, bulbous-faced
person, wearing a flamboyant badge in the shape of an enormous wart
directly upon the tip of his nose. He arrived with a tremendous fuss
and bustle, wheezing so that he was to be heard in every corner of the
place. He subsided upon the instant, however, when he learned that he
was expected to consult with a student of the eminent Linacre.
Soon he came out to take sup with Tyrrell and Sir Richard in their
little hut. When the young knight made haste to inquire as to what case
his friend was in:
"It doth mightily please me," answered the fat doctor from Bannockburn,
"to agree with his worshipful lordship inside ... ahem! I may e'en
say that mine own opinions were exactly one with his ... and him, sir
knight, a celebrated student and co-worker with the famous Thomas
Linacre, of London; who, as thou dost probably know, doth entertain
many a cunning precept somewhat at variance from the accepted standards
of the older ... and ... well--schools ... ahem! Yet did his worshipful
lordship do me the distinguished honor to inform me that my humble ...
er ... prognosis was infinitely similar, if not somewhat superior,
withal,--an thou'lt permit me to say thus--to that which would have
been arrived upon by a great many ... er ... practitioners and chymists
of ... ahem! ... London."
"Gramercy for thy learned opinion," said Sir Richard winking above the
doctor's bald head at the foot-boys. "So! thou'rt of opinion that the
good knight will surely recover?"
"Ah! assuredly will he. Though in cases of this kind, where the ...
ahem!--alimentary passages have become somewhat flabby ... yes ...
flabby, I may say, from long disuse (Sir Richard thought of all his
scourings over the hills for goats-milk, goodies, and wine!)--there may
follow, anon, a more or less ... ahem!--more or less, I say, violent
inflammation of the ... er ... esophagus; which, if not immediately
allayed--but, by the mass, and what a delicious odor is that!"
Harold, just then, had happily uncovered the simmering kettle.
"Yes," said Sir Richard, "art hungry, good doctor?"
"In sooth, an I be not, sir knight, thou mayst call me a fustian
shove-groat shilling! marry! marry! and were not such a ride as I've
had to-day full fatiguing to a gentleman of my avoirdupois?"
Well, after contemplating the widespread devastation which the amiable
doctor wrought upon the viands set before him, right willingly would
anyone have yielded to him the palm of gluttony--though it must be
said of Sir Richard that his own appetite was something not below the
average. And how the man could drink, too! It seemed to Sir Richard
that he would never have done with pouring their hard-fetched wine into
his gullet. He might appropriately have been girded with iron hoops and
set aside as a filled hogshead when the last drop trickled within his
vast interior. A flabby esophagus could never have been attributed to
the good doctor, withal.
But he warmed up famously under the wine's genial influence, and
regaled his hosts throughout the evening with many a merry tale. Sir
Richard misliked him not at all; and, before the good doctor set up his
thunderous snoring before the pleasing warmth of the blaze, the young
knight had secured his promise to remain with de Claverlok till he was
safe on the road to health. It may be said further, too, that he was a
gainer of the half of Sir Richard's remaining nobles because of the
bargain.
The young knight passed a sleepless night, interspersed with fanciful
dreams wrought around the circumstance of his new-discovered ancestry.
He seemed to be always alone and lonely, sitting upon a lofty eminence,
with a ray of dazzling white light, ever broadening, sweeping from
where he sat into illimitable space. The vast area thus brilliantly
illumined ever seemed peopled with a countless multitude of kneeling
beings; reminding him of the glimmering sun of evening lying softly
upon the woolly backs of innumerable sheep.
It chanced that Sir Richard was the last member of their little
company to be abroad the next morning, and when he came out into the
sunshine Harold and Thomas, who had been whispering together, dropped
in concert to their knees. Then Sir James Tyrrell, now more than ever
bent and gray looking, drew toward him, limping around the corner
of the sick knight's hut. He bowed to Sir Richard after a grave and
courtly fashion, and, when the young knight extended his hand, saluted
it deferentially with his lips. Not anyone could have been more abject
in his obsequiousness than the fat doctor from Bannockburn. He begged
Sir Richard but to lay some command upon him so that he might give
proof of his devotion to his cause and person. To the young knight it
seemed to be the beginning of the fulfillment of his visions. Only
good de Claverlok and unconquerable Isabel remained the same; the
which resulted in Sir Richard deriving the greater pleasure from their
companionship.
All of the while it was to be remarked that shrewd Tyrrell's eyes bent
close upon Sir Richard's every action. By reaching out to him a taste
of sovereignty, he felt that he was tempting him to desire it in a
greater portion.
Sir Richard divined that it was to be a silent duel between them;
and he was bound to confess to himself that he was already becoming
conscious of the tightening of the net about him. He was becoming
fearful that the master politician might win.
It was like a transitory release from the clutch of an unseen, iron
hand to get within the larger hut and enjoy a talk with de Claverlok
and Isabel. Though still pitifully weak, it was clearly to be seen
that Sir Richard's faithful friend and squire was now leaving his
illness behind him.
"Think well and deeply, boy, before deciding upon thy course," he
advised Sir Richard when he arose to take leave of him. "'Tis no small
thing to hurl a great power at a sleeping, peaceful nation; thereby
to embroil it in bloody strife and dissensions ... eh. But, once thy
path be laid, follow it without halt or deviation to the end. Thus let
me say," he added, taking the young knight's hand, "'twill be a right
brave day for England when thy consent be won to sit upon her throne."
"But, whatever I do, de Claverlok, and whereever I go," Sir Richard
said, "your own good self shall sure be with me."
"Within this very hovel, Sir Richard, we will await thy further
command," he replied.
"Sir Richard!" Isabel called to the young knight as he was about to
step to the door. "Take this bit packet," she said, handing him the
smallest of parcels. "Guard it next thy heart till thou hast reached
into the Forest of Lammermuir--then, thou mayst open it. But remember,
boy, not before! And now," she added, standing a-tiptoe, "I'll kiss
thee a good-bye ... one for myself--one for Lionel. Thou art a brave,
good youth, Sir Richard."
There were tears in the young knight's eyes when he stepped outside the
hut ready to start with Tyrrell, who was on horse and waiting, upon
their journey.
Sir Richard was surprised to discover that Harold's jennet was trapped
and standing beside his saddled stallion. When he inquired what it
meant, the foot-boy went on his knees before him and besought the young
knight to permit him to become his lowly squire. When Sir Richard
inquired of him what Thomas intended doing, the foot-boy informed him
that his mate had sought a like service with de Claverlok.
"Then get off your knees," Sir Richard told him, "and come along; or,
by the mass! I'll have the broad of my sword this moment at your hinder
quarters."
Whereupon they mounted and started for the road. Sir Richard looked
several times over his shoulder-piece; and always his backward glance
would be met by a waving of Isabel's lace scarf in the doorway, and
two profound bows from in front of the smaller hut. 'Twas a sight well
worth seeing--that awkward curtsy of the fat doctor from Bannockburn.
They were perforce obliged to travel slowly, as Tyrrell's infirmities
seemed fast growing upon him. From the drawn and haggard look of his
thin countenance it could plainly be seen that he was in constant and
extreme pain. Moreover, Sir Richard noted that by now he had ceased
attributing his sufferings to the tortures to which he had been put
in Castle Yewe. Times he would be seized with a fit of coughing of so
violent a nature that Sir Richard bethought him it might well have
shattered his very insides.
Then, for the space of two days, a most unpleasant transition of
weathers set in upon them, marked by incessant and dense fogs, heavy
rains and sharp, driving flurries of snow. So alarmingly was Tyrrell's
sickness increasing that upon the morning of the fourth day, it
appeared impossible that he would have sufficient strength longer
to sit horse. Sir Richard begged him to stay within the herdsman's
cottage, where they had stopped for the night, till he had ridden
ahead to summon help. But Tyrrell stubbornly refused to listen to the
young knight's entreaties.
That day had broken bright, was almost balmy, and brilliantly clear,
the gray storm-pall having rolled seaward during the night.
"'Twill be a salve to my sore lungs, sire ... this blessed warmth,"
Tyrrell said to Sir Richard, lifting his nose into the thin air as he
tottered upon the young knight's arm toward his waiting barb.
With Harold's assistance Sir Richard contrived to seat Tyrrell upon
his horse; though it was no easy task, all encumbered as he was in the
heaviest of armor.
"Put hand upon my shoulder, man," Sir Richard said to him after they
had started, riding close to his side.
"Without aid have I come through life ... alone I'll sit till I fall
... sire," Tyrrell answered gloomily.
"An you call me king rightfully," said Sir Richard sternly, "put hand
on my shoulder ... 'tis a command!"
Tyrrell turned upon the young knight a wan smile and then capitulated.
"Now thou art becoming an apt pupil ... sire," he answered in a whisper.
By now they were riding along a part of the Sauchieburn Pass with
which Sir Richard was not familiar. It was that portion stretching
northward from the point where he had left it to give battle with the
Renegade Duke. The country here was more thickly populated than any
through which they had passed. Drawing upon a high eminence, the three
travelers could see the smoke from many chimney-tops curling above the
downs. Away to the left was a cluster of cottages, surmounted by the
steeple of a church. A good two leagues ahead could be distinguished
that which appeared to be an inn standing alone against the roadside.
Like a yellow and much broken ribbon the highway fell away from their
feet, threading in wide, sweeping curves along the narrow, winding
valley. Upon this roadway, and appearing and disappearing with it
around the bases of the hills, a company of armed horsemen was riding.
For some time the weight of Tyrrell's body had been bearing momentarily
more heavily against that of Sir Richard. It could be noted that his
eyes had lost a great measure of their accustomed brilliancy, and that
his breaths were coming thick and painfully labored. Sir Richard leaned
toward him and told him of the approaching horsemen.
"Canst decipher the colors beneath which they ride?" Tyrrell asked
weakly.
"Methinks I can but just make me out a device in sable upon a field
gules. The banners do so flutter in the wind," Sir Richard added, "that
I cannot guess its form."
"Sable upon gules," Tyrrell whispered, without raising his head. "They
are thine own good men ... sire."
As they drew within easy distance Sir Richard recognized them to be a
part of the company of knights who had bivouaced around the pavilion of
purple and black. When the approaching company made out who the three
horsemen were they set up a great shouting, driving down upon them with
waving swords and lances. They grew quiet upon the instant, however,
when they observed that their leader, Sir James Tyrrell, lifted not his
head, and bore in around him with grave and apprehensive faces.
Suddenly, then, and with a supreme effort of will, Tyrrell straightened
his tall, gaunt form upon his saddle, scowling meanwhile with
deep-knitted brows upon the circle of grim warriors gathered about him.
Sir Richard noted still the pitiful half-haze upon his eyes.
"Knights," he cried, in a deep and penetrating voice; "I have kept my
vows to thee. Here, now, I bring thee thy leader--Sir Richard Rohan,
Earl of Warwick; Son of Edward, Duke of Clarence"--he swayed so it
seemed that he must surely fall. Then, raising himself with that which
seemed to be a superhuman effort high upon his stirrups: "I acclaim
this young knight, before all the world, _King Richard IV_!" he
shouted, and pitched forward, inert, insensible, into the arms of one
of his men.
Right tenderly did they bear him down the hill till they came to the
tavern which Sir Richard had glimpsed from the promontory but a short
while gone.
"'Tis an inflammation of the pleura," he whispered to Sir Richard when
the young knight was standing beside his bed within a small room of
the tavern. "'Tis a dangerous sickness ... God wot, an I may or may
not survive, sire, to witness the fruition of all my labors. But the
torch is now ready trimmed, awaiting but the application of the spark.
Grant me the boon of thy promise to continue on thy journey to the Red
Tavern. Lord Bishop Kennedy shall soon seek thee there. In him thou
canst repose the utmost confidence; I yield thee into his hands. Give
thee adieu, sire," he whispered, saluting Sir Richard's outstretched
hand with his feverish lips.
The dim passageway outside the small room in which Tyrrell had been
disposed was filled with the low humming of voices, a subdued sound of
clanking swords and the pale gleamings of points of light on polished
armor. As Sir Richard stepped through the door, these solemn-visaged
knights moved silently against the wall and balustrade, thus opening
him an avenue down the stairs. They made him obeisance, one by one, as
he passed between; each whispering him a princely name and title, the
which sang loud in the young knight's ears of the fame of many valorous
deeds long since set down in history.
A round dozen of them followed him upon the highway, intending to give
him safe conduct to his destination. Experiencing an intense longing
to be alone, however, Sir Richard summoned courage to decline their
proffered services, and thereupon set his stallion's head again toward
the Red Tavern with none but Harold in his train.