OF HOW SIR RICHARD PLAYED THE KING IN HIS LITTLE KINGDOM
Sir Richard broke his fast in the main room below, sitting by the
fire in the broad chimney. He concluded that the chamber to which he
had been assigned upon the first night of his visit to the Red Tavern
was now surrendered to the uses of the ladies; it being the only one,
so far as he could see, that could boast of a coating of mortar. The
walls of the remaining rooms abounded in cracks and crannies, the
which admitted the chill blasts in discomforting volumes. To the
weary young knight, the roaring blaze by the table's side was a most
agreeable accompaniment to a very excellent repast. Often afterward
it recurred to Sir Richard that he ate during that day because of an
habitual predilection to line his inwards. In solemn truth, however,
the wine set before him seemed without hint of zest or bouquet, and
the toothsome viands provided by Zenas might as well have been so much
sawdust for all the taste that Sir Richard got out of them withal.
With the sun drawing toward the zenith, the earth warmed into a
semblance of balminess, and the young knight loitered about outside
in the hope that Rocelia would walk out presently to take the air. It
entered Sir Richard's whirling head that the hunchback had divined
the cause of his excessive restlessness; the which the impetuous
young knight resented by soundly tongue-lashing the fellow. He scarce
answered Sir Richard a word, but received his acrimonious outburst with
queer leers, and winks, and knowing smiles. The young knight was fair
tempted to take the flat of his sword to him.
"I fear me much that Isabel has soured thy accustomed sweet temper ...
sire," Zenas said, with an intonation that was unmistakably satirical.
The young knight noted that this was the first occasion upon which the
crook-back had actually avowed him sovereign.
"Ah! and right willingly would I play the king," Sir Richard thought,
"an I could but wield empire over one dear subject. And why not,
forsooth?" his ruminations carried him along. "By'r Lady! who's to
prevent me from asserting my sovereignty by commanding this young woman
to be summoned into my presence?"
It was as Sir Richard was striding toward the tavern door to carry out
his mad project that he glimpsed Rocelia through an upper window. She
looked out upon him, inclining her head and smiling. Deferentially Sir
Richard doffed his helm, his courage vanishing from him like rime on a
mid-August day. The young knight noted that she was wearing a gown of
saffron velvet.
Then, quickly entering the tavern, Sir Richard commanded Zenas to fetch
him ink, paper and a quill. "Henceforth," said he to himself, "I'll
surely play the king; and here shall be my kingdom." But he made up his
mind to temper his rule in the meantime with somewhat of diplomacy and
cunning.
"Summon Harold hither," said he to the hunchback; "I'll have speech of
him."
Directing the note which he then wrote jointly to dame Sutherland and
Rocelia, he gave it into the foot-boy's hands and bade him to deliver
it at their door. Then, going outside, he directed the groom to trap
his stallion; whereupon he started swiftly northward along the forest
road. Glancing backward as he swept around the point of the brae, Sir
Richard was pleased to discover both of the ladies at the window waving
him their adieux.
It was well along in the afternoon when the young knight arrived at
the inn where Tyrrell was lying. Stretching east and west from the
little building were long, double lines of white tents. The inn-keeper
had established him a tap-room in the stable, the which was crowded
with boisterous, brawling soldiers. It reminded Sir Richard of another
Babel, so varied were their manners of speech.
Within the tavern, however, all was orderly and quiet, with a strong
reek of medicines in every corner. For long the young knight seated
himself by Tyrrell's bed, the while Sir James stormed and raved in a
frightful delirium of fever; cursing King Richard III.; describing the
horrible tortures to which his brother had been put; condemning Henry
for a base usurper, and railing against Douglas and his traitorous
defection. It must have been a full hour before his mind merged into
a brief period of calm sanity. Coolly then he counted the pulsings of
his heart, whereupon he told the young knight that he was sore feeble.
"'Twill be a week at least," he said, "ere the fever shall have run
its course. If I am alive after that, perchance I might come safely
through." He looked at the young knight askance when Sir Richard spoke
to him of Rocelia, but gave him a word of cheer to deliver to her. The
young knight remained by Tyrrell's side till again the fever gripped
him; then took his way downstairs, bestrode his stallion, and clipped
it along the pass toward his little kingdom.
They must have been harkening eagerly for his coming, for Sir Richard
found the women both awaiting him in the main room.
"How noble it is of thee, sire," said Rocelia sweetly, when Sir Richard
had repeated her father's message, "to bethink thee of our grave
anxiety. How can we ever requite thee?" Whereupon she cast upon Sir
Richard a shy glance that repaid him upon that instant an hundred fold.
The which, however, did not prevent the young knight from saying: "By
bearing me company at table, dear Rocelia. I have been dooms lonely
these two days gone."
Sir Richard noted that Rocelia looked appealingly toward her grandam;
and, by the same token, so did the young knight. But not appealingly,
withal. He was not unmindful at that moment that he was indeed playing
the king.
Sir Richard never afterward forgot that meal in the vague, warm light
of the chimney-corner; with Rocelia, in a rose-glow of maidenly
confusion, seated where he could feast his eyes upon the delicate
transitions of expression upon her beautiful countenance. She was
garbed in the robe a cutting of which was even then resting against his
much disturbed heart, though the young knight lacked the resolution
to tell her so. Perhaps she knew it though, he thought. Whereupon he
became quite intoxicated with the knowledge that there existed between
them a bond of secret understanding. They talked, God knows of what, he
never knew. The dame had fallen into a doze upon one of the high-backed
benches, for which blessing the young knight offered thanks to
Morpheus. It gave them a good hour more together than they should
likely otherwise have had.
Soon after that the good dame snored loudly once or twice and then
awakened suddenly from the noise of it. She rose immediately and begged
permission to retire.
"Dost thou not take the sun and air of the morning?" Sir Richard asked
Rocelia when they were about to leave.
"When the men are not here, and good grandam is not suffering of a
gout," she answered. "I do so enjoy to wander through the forest, sire."
"Then," said Sir Richard, "upon the morrow, wilt suffer me to be thy
escort upon such an excursion?"
There followed then a second triangular duel of the eyes. The result
was similarly happy with the first.
Sir Richard went contented and singing to his bed.
For several glory-filled days thereafter it would be a walk with
Rocelia in the morning through the forest glades; after which the
young knight would ride northward to seek tidings of her father's
condition. Times there were when it seemed impossible that he could
recover. But, on the eighth day, Sir Richard found him wholly rational
and well quit of his fever.
He would soon be upon his feet now, he told the young knight, in a weak
whisper. After that they would set out for Wales, he said, gathering
their forces along the way, and then march down on London. Sir Richard
was in no mind to say him yea or nay; his thoughts being every one upon
Rocelia. When Tyrrell learned of the young knight's daily ride to his
sick-bed he rendered him the heartiest of thanks.
"'Tis indeed seldom, sire," he said, "that an humble servant is
permitted the satisfaction of laboring for a grateful king."
Tyrrell was once again become the shrewd and wily politician.
Sir Richard remembered that all the way homeward (he called it home
within his mind, it being the only place worthy of the name of which he
knew), his heart was singing a merry lay within his breast, because of
the good news he was carrying to Rocelia.
What a joyous evening it was they spent together, sitting at the table
in the chimney-side with Dame Sutherland soundly sleeping upon the
bench! Sir Richard insisted that Rocelia hum over song after song for
him; the which she did, trilling them low and sweet. At length she
struck upon the one for which he had been waiting; the song he had
heard steal out upon that lonely night when he was engaged with Sir
James and Zenas in the task of burying the hound.
When she had finished the last note Sir Richard told her of the weird
circumstances surrounding his first acquaintance with it.
Thereupon, for the first time, the young knight made bold to tell
her that he had ever since that night carried that same song within
his memory--and a certain cutting of saffron velvet next his heart
(forgetting to mention, however, that part of the time when he had worn
it above his eye).
"Ah! sire," said Rocelia, "can it be that it is thou----" and then
she paused with lips all of a quiver, her fair head turned toward the
glowing fire.
"Why!" said Sir Richard, "and did you not know, dear Rocelia, that
since that night I have been avowed champion of yours?"
"Sire----"
"Call me not sire, dear. Name me Richard," the young knight whispered,
trying vainly to imprison her hand. "God wot, an you still wish to
leave, I will bear me away this time the proper maiden!"
"Then ... was it indeed thou," Rocelia whispered, half weeping, half
laughing, "who bore away my cousin Isabel?"
"Did you not know?" said Sir Richard.
"I but knew that she had gone ... with some knight, I thought it was
... and that it had been her choice to go. She was ever unhappy after
we came from London. Oh! sire ... much do I regret that thou hast been
made the target of one of her mad pranks."
"Let me but once hear Richard on your lips, Rocelia," pleaded the young
knight.
"I dare not," said she, with an affrighted glance toward her sleeping
grandam.
"I lay command upon you," said Sir Richard feigning to be stern.
"Well, then ... Richard," said she in the softest of whispers.
Silence for a space.
"It seems," said the young knight then, smiling, "that I have been
victim of every madcap prank and conspiracy in all Scotland. What quip
was this of Isabel's?"
"I should not have known, sire----"
"Richard," the young knight corrected her gently.
"Thou saidst but once ... Richard," she whispered, smiling. "I should
not have known, I say, had it not been for the piece of cloth snipped
out of my robe. I was sleeping when she sent it through the wall."
"And the note--said she something of a note, Rocelia?" Sir Richard
asked.
"No, nothing, sire."
"Then here it is," said he, diving into the leathern pouch hanging at
his baldric and laying the scrap of paper before Rocelia upon the table
top. The while she was reading it Sir Richard got him out the cutting
of velvet.
"And here is the other," he said, laying the crumpled bit of cloth
beside the note, which by now Rocelia had finished reading. "This may
go to feed the blaze," he added with a light laugh, tossing the note
into the fire. "The other ... may I have it now from thy dear hand? I
would renew my knightly vows."
"But thou art now a king ... and may not," she gave Sir Richard answer,
he thought in a tone and manner of sadness and regret. Suddenly she
took it up then and thrust it quickly within the lace at her bosom.
"But I am not a king, Rocelia ... or ever shall be," Sir Richard
protested. "That bit of yellow cloth it was that kept me posting back
and forth above this barren, dreary country. It drew, and held me
willing prisoner here. Now I have lost it. To-morrow I will go."
"But, no!" said she, "how canst thou leave when everything is waiting?
Already hast thou been proclaimed."
"Everything was waiting before I came," he answered. "When I am
gone 'twill be as though Richard Rohan had never been. As to the
proclamation ... 'twas but a thing of empty words. I played the king
here, because thou wert of my kingdom. An I have not thee for subject,
I am no longer monarch. To-morrow, I say, I take my leave of Scotland."
"But, pray you, not to-morrow ... Richard," cried Rocelia aloud,
clutching at the cloth upon the table.
There was a look in her eyes that brought the young man bounding to
his feet. He had meant to gather her within his arms. But he swiftly
interpreted her frightened backward glance in sufficient season to
transform the gesture into a sweeping bow.
Grandam Sutherland had but just awakened, and was blinking at the two
after a confused fashion. She had been aroused by Rocelia's cry.
"God's mercy upon us!" exclaimed the old lady; "it must be near upon
the stroke of eleven?"
"An the weather hold, we'll walk to-morrow morning?" said Sir Richard,
taking Rocelia's hand.
"To-morrow morning, sire," she answered, softly pressing his fingers.
The young knight slept no wink that night because of the tender caress.