At an early hour on Monday there were gathered on the level turf that
stretched beneath my chamber window some five and twenty men, with as
many horses, from whom Sir Michael, with old Emmet to help him, was
now to select that twelve he had promised to hold at the service of
the Prince. And I thought it a clear mark of my father's nature that
he did prefer furnishing a small number, but serviceable, when, had
he measured his own importance by the rule that many gentlemen at
that time did use, he might have sent a hungry and unruly band three
times as great.
From my window the humors of the scene were strange and various, and
at first not a little laughable. Simon bustled to and fro, urging
and directing stable lads sweating under load after load of armor,
and weapons from the hall, the armory, and the steward's room. At
last, all being in some manner armed and mounted, they were gotten
into a semblance of order, and their instruction and weeding out
began. At first, I say, I laughed much at one man's hopeless
perplexity in handling together sword and reins, or at another, being
undersized and of even less strength than skill, to see him strive in
vain to control a fat and lusty charger, fresh from the plough, and
grown wanton to feel so little weight upon his back and none at his
tail. But, as one after another these were discarded and went their
ways, some in evident dudgeon and others in as plain relief of mind,
and as the dwindling number grew even more martial in mount, bearing,
and accoutrement, the sight did begin to make some corresponding
emotion in my heart; and I almost found myself wishing that I had
been born a man, the more that my dear father had that same morning
lamented there was none of Drayton blood to lead the little band. He
had let drop, too, some words, as bitter as few, of my brother
Philip, and had told me then, for the first time, how my mother's two
children did come to bear one name.
"Your mother bore her first child, little Phil," he said, "in the
early days of the horse-breeding that has brought us so much wealth.
And I loved the beasts, spending once my last guineas and the price
of a farm besides to bring to my stud the Barbary sire you remember.
So when I knew it was a man child I called him Philip, saying he
should love horses as his father, and do great things for the breed,
and his name be famous in England. And as he grew 't was harder to
get him inside a stable than to keep most lads without it. To this
day I know not if he would distinguish your ugly Meg from the noblest
charger of His Highness of Orange. When ten years were gone, and
there was again hope for us, I said, if it prove a girl, we 'll e'en
try the name on her. And give it you I did, with a little tag or
handle to mark you woman. Poor child," he added kindly, yet
sorrowfully, "'t is not thy fault thou hast the wrong sex, and, Gad
's my life! you have been a better son to me than Philip."
"And I love horses, sir," I answered, "and, indeed, many other things
that my Lady Mary will ever say are not women's matters." Whereupon
we laughed at Lady Mary a little, and the matter dropped, as he went
to the muster. But I knew he felt in great need of a son that day,
or he had never come so near throwing reproach on me that he loved so
well for a fault that at another time he would not have had me change
for a man's best virtue. Yet, as I gazed from the window at this
threshing and winnowing of men, to make of them soldiers, the memory
of that reproach rankled a little in me, and a small plot began to
take form.
At the time when I commenced housewife at home I had in a disused
chamber above found a closet filled with clothes once worn by my
half-brothers of the elder family that I had come into the world too
late to know. These were the only relics, I believe, of three good
and honest gentlemen that, in the strange and ghostly manner of a
child as I then was, I reverenced much, and even contrived to love a
little; I had therefore rescued many of these garments from the moth,
and, deciding in my mind by the varying fashions and much guess-work
to which brother the different pieces had belonged, bestowed them in
three ordered piles in a wide shelf of my great oak press. "So
these," I would say, as I brushed and folded them once a month, "were
Henry's; these Maurice used to wear." And I always held that the
morion and the back- and breast-pieces, which were all the armor
found with the clothes, had belonged to Rupert. For they were
wondrous small for a man, and I knew he had been the least of them
all in stature, and had scarce attained his full growth when he fell
at Salisbury.
Now, in my excitement with the martial sounds without, and a good
part, I doubt not, in mischief that meant going no further than
gently avenging his slight of my sex upon my father, I suddenly
thought of this wardrobe so little proper to a young maid's chamber;
and at once began with trembling hands to choose from my store such
garments as I thought would best become the son my father wished me,
giving, I doubt not, an undue value to color and to that size which
nearest approached my own, and little to coherence of fashion.
The troop were now reduced to eleven, for Christopher Kidd, making
the twelfth, and having leave of absence after his services to my
father in riding to Exeter, was expected to return from his farm but
for the afternoon's drill; lacking whom, the rest had been dismissed
for dinner at noon, which was the hour when I began so unmaidenly to
dress myself out in my dead brothers' clothes. It was a business
that occupied me longer than I had thought for, and when it came to
the boots and the armor I wished I had Prue's nimble fingers to help
me. But she, I knew, though she would never have confessed so much,
was somewhere watching for the return of Christopher. At last,
however, I made shift to fasten together about me the back- and
breast-pieces; for the boots, I stuffed the toes of each with an
handkerchief, and so made them sit passably well, the practising
which device called to my mind how in the dark I had done the same
for Ned to the filthy brogues he wore in leaving us. So, being
dressed at all points to my satisfaction, the next thing was to
contrive reaching the stables unobserved. For this my reasons were
two: I knew the men would soon reassemble, and wished, in my folly,
to take part in their evolutions in such manner that none could
forbid without openly chiding me before the yokels; which I knew
neither my father nor Emmet would do, whatever their censures might
be in private. But far stronger was the other reason for privacy.
Being now ready, I began to feel shame of what I was doing, and,
being too petulant and obstinate to give it up, I felt that a horse
beneath me and the necessity of handling him in unwonted movements
would do near as much to cover my shyness as the skirt I lacked.
Whether this be clear to a masculine reader or no, confident I was of
a lessened sense of bareness, and so of greater boldness in the
saddle. Hearing, then, the bugle blown without, and seeing the men
canter up by ones and twos from the stable, the few old soldiers
among them roundly cursing the laggards, I opened my chamber door,
peeped up and down the gallery, and made a bold run for the head of
the great stair. That it was before I reached it my sword, catching
between my legs, did fling me prone, I must ever thank Providence.
Had it happened in my descent with the same force, I had broken my
neck at the foot of the stair. For, though I could handle the
small-sword, and even the heavier weapon of a soldier, "passably well
for a maid," as Mr. Royston did use to say in the days when he taught
me something of fence, yet never before, even in our games, had I
worn one hung from my side. I picked myself up more shamefaced than
hurt, and made my way sneakingly and gingerly, holding my sword in my
left hand, down the stair and into the great hall, making for its
further door which leads to the kitchens. I was already half-way
toward it, walking most cat-like in that shyness so little fitted to
my garb and action, when I heard the heaving of a great sigh.
Turning my head, I saw, at the further end of the hall, standing with
his back to me, and gazing from a window, a man dressed in
sad-colored clothes. More quickly, I suppose, than the stranger
could turn to observe me, I was through the door and in the flagged
gallery that leads to the kitchens and pantries. Cutting across this
gallery is a shorter one leading to a side door of entrance to the
house, and as I drew near this I heard voices at the outer door. At
once I knew the speakers for Prue and Christopher Kidd, and now more
than ever did I feel that the salvation of my plan was to get me
astride of a good horse; I would not, even to save changing my mind,
a thing always hateful to me, be seen walking thus dressed. So,
coming silently to a stand in hope that they would move away, I was
for some minutes an involuntary eavesdropper. The stables were
opposite this same door, with a paved yard between, and I could tell
by the sound of hoof on stone that Mr. Kidd was mounted and on his
way to the muster on the other side of the house. But I believe that
he had learned since his first return from Exeter that it was ill
policy to hide fresh news, good or bad, from little Prudence. Yet
did he make some show of resistance. The first words that I clearly
heard were his:
"But where is Sir Michael? I have news."
"News good or ill, Mr. Kidd?" says Prue.
"That is for him to say," replied Kidd. "Are they at the exercises,
mistress?"
"Nay, but Mr. Kidd--Christopher," said the little rogue, in tones
most winning and persuasive, "will you not dismount and stay a while
to pleasure me? Shall I fetch you a horn of ale?" Then there was
silence for a little space, and I could fancy her little red and
pouting mouth turned up to the man in such wise that it could scarce
be three heart-beats ere his spurs would ring on the flags. Nor was
it. And then she continued: "And the news, Mr. Kidd? Perhaps it
would not taint it if my lips should sip it first." And so a pause,
and a little soft sound of kissing, with a small scream of formal
hypocrisy.
Then Christopher: "Faith, mistress, a kiss from you would win all
things from a man, even to his soul's health, let alone a trifle of
news."
"I gave you no kiss," says Prue, saucily enough; "you did but take
it."
"Then take my news," quoth Kidd, with a stride, I thought, towards
his horse. And then, I think, she did buy his news, and pay in
advance. For although I cannot say that this time I heard the ring
of the coin, yet Christopher's next words showed him proceeding to
delivery of the goods. "You know, mistress, that Sir Michael would
have me lead these men to the Prince when he shall call on them. So
I have been to the farm to settle things for a long absence. I
thought my nag here well recovered of his last week's ride to Exeter
and beyond, but find there is little spirit left in him, and was
ambling gently down the old road by the water-mill about an hour
back, and cursing both luck and horse to be late for the work a-doing
here, when there comes by a great coach, with much foul speech and
cracking of whips. And whose face dost think I saw looking from the
window, all drawn and wan?"
"Oh, I know not," said Prue, in anger of impatience; "tell me, and
quickly."
"Well, 't was Madam Royston," says Christopher.
"Lady Mary!" says Prue, with a little gasp. "What did she there?"
"'T is the very thing I would know, dear lass," replied Kidd. "The
fellows round her were ill-looking, and she was about calling to me
when she was dragged back within the coach."
"Well, you are a man," cried Prue, raising her voice in excitement.
"What did you do?"
"Little to purpose, sweetheart," answered Kidd; and, though I was as
eager now as little Prue to hear more, I could have laughed to note
how the man took advantage of her emotion to edge in these lover's
terms unchecked; "I spurred after them, but a fellow on a sorrel nag
turned and drew a great pistol and let fly at me. Do but see the
hole his ball made in my coat." And here I heard a very genuine cry
of fear from Prudence. And Kidd went on, with a slight note of
exultation in his voice, the result, I do not doubt, of her
perturbation. "It did me no hurt, though it wanted but little, as
you see, of sending me where I could never again see the prettiest
maid in three counties. Well, that shot angered me, and I made at
him. But he was the better mounted, and leapt his horse over the
hedge, and so away over the fields, while I pounded heavily after on
my tired beast. When I gave over, the coach was far and my nag
well-nigh foundered. But one thing I learned of him."
"Ay," cried Prue eagerly, "and that was----"
"That he was no true man, but a devilish priest of Rome."
"O Mr. Kidd," says Prue, "how you will ever be frighting a poor girl!
How knew you that?"
"As he leapt the hedge," said Kidd, "being a bad horseman, he was
near losing his seat. Arrived the other side, he saved himself by
clutching at the sorrel's mane, and in that had almost lost both hat
and his red wig but for clutching at those in turn. But as the wig
shifted I saw his own hair, dark and short, and a little round place
atop, bald and shaven. A priest he is, and Sir Michael loves not
such cattle on his land. So indeed, dear Mistress Prudence, I must
find and tell him what is doing. Will you not grant me but one more?
My news was worth it."
Whatever it were he asked, I do suppose he shortly obtained it, for
very soon I heard upon the stones the hoofs of his departing horse.
Hoping that Prudence would follow him round the back of the house to
see him join the little troop at exercise, I thought this was the
moment for pressing on to the stables. So, wisely tucking my sword
again under my arm, I made a run for it, which took me round the
corner and fairly into the arms of Prudence, whom I clutched firm and
close in my own to save us both a fall. At first her fright to be so
suddenly seized in the arms, as she thought, of some ruffling gallant
was luckily too great to let a sound escape her; and when I loosed my
hold and clapped my hand upon her mouth, it began slowly to dawn upon
the terror-struck eyes raised to mine in mute appeal that 't was none
but I; whereupon, being released, she fell to laughing most
consumedly, pointing at me the while a most derisive finger, till I
could not but think all was not well with my unaccustomed attire, and
shrank together and cringed from her in fashion most unmanlike.
And, when she could for laughing, "Oh, dear Mistress Phil!" she
cried, "whatever your plan in this pretty masquerade, none will take
you for a man if you do stand so."
Which did but add anger to my desire of carrying through my plan; so
that, drawing my body most martially erect, and seizing her by the
shoulder with my left hand, I raised the other as if to cuff her, and
threatened as much if she did not hold her peace and immediately lend
me her aid. And this did mightily sober the girl, who, seeing me so
terrible, ran out at my bidding to the stable, returning quickly with
the news that there was not a man about the place, all being gone to
see the drilling. Very bravely I then swaggered across the yard and
in among the horses that were left. And there Prudence followed,
panting with excitement and, as soon appeared, not without admiration
of my assumption of manhood.
"Oh, but indeed I ask your pardon, dear Mistress Phil," she cried,
"for so laughing at the figure you made. If you but carry it thus
none who does not know you for Mistress Philippa Drayton will know
you are not a man. Do but let me set your beautiful hair more in
fashion of the great wigs Mr. Kidd tells me are worn by the
gentlemen, even on horseback and in armor." And with a great coarse
stable comb she pulled and twisted till she had my hair, which for
the first time I was glad grew not so long as thick, to hang evenly
round the shoulders behind, and over them in front in two heavy
curling masses.
"And now for a horse," I said, when this was done. It took no long
time to see that my choice lay between Meg, that I have already told
of, and Roan Charley, a gelding of no great size but great beauty of
proportion. He was grandson of that Barbary sire my father had
purchased so dear to enrich his stock. Roan Charley had to the full
the spirit and much of the fleetness of the Drayton barb, with more
bone and greater power in the hinder part; whence it came, I suppose,
that he was the best leaper I ever sat, while his grandsire would
not, or could not, clear so much as a fallen tree-trunk. He was
generally accounted difficult and contrary in handling, but he and I
were seldom long in coming at an understanding.
Now for the work I had been watching all morning from my window I had
certainly preferred Old Meg, as we had come to call the mare, more
from her sure and trusty manners than her years. But, for the odd
and elfish look of her, my vanity bade me pass her by and clap my
father's best saddle on Charley. At first he gave me some trouble in
this, thinking, said Prue, some strange gallant was about stealing
him. When he fidgeted a little with his heels Prue screamed, and
would not come near to help. The saddle was heavy and the sword
mightily in my way, and each time I would have flung the first on
Roan Charley's back, round would go his hindquarters, and, as I
followed, the sword would again come between my legs and stop me,
while he eyed me with teeth gleaming and ears laid back. At last I
was fain to set down the saddle and caress him with voice and hand,
making love to him till he knew me again, and, indeed, well-nigh said
as much. After that, saddling and bridling were soon done, and
Charley led into the yard, where, Prue being with much difficulty and
in terror of her life persuaded to take him by the head, I was soon
upon his back.
Now here, as once or twice before, I must tell of things that I did
not know till after they were done. For even though it seem somewhat
to break the thread of narrative to leave me running Roan Charley in
the park to use him to my handling and my knees to my father's
saddle, while I tell of events, some far, and others close at hand
but beyond my knowledge, yet I hold it ever more easy for the reader
to take his history, public or private, in order of occurrence, and
so to hold in his hand all the threads that must knot together at
that point for whose sake the story is told. For in life all is so
large and complicate as to seem, in the little eye of man, confused
and purposeless; and great part, I think, of our joy and interest in
living it is found in the unexpected nature of its events. But in
those pictures of life furnished us by drama, history, painting, or
romance our pleasure is altogether of another kind. Here the
artificer, choosing out of the multitudinous mesh threads such only
as lead to his particular nodule of the mighty tangle, concerns
himself and us with the convergence and final meeting of these; so
that, if he but tell and we read aright, we see step by step the
working of his little providence. And here our pleasure is not in
astonishment, but in truth and sequence reasonably set forth. "This
thing is coming," we say; or "That could have fallen no otherwise";
and we read on, and sometimes, perhaps, perceive some glimmer of the
order lying in the greater skein. But all this Mr. Telgrove would
call plagiarizing; and it comes, indeed, in the first instance, from
his head. If he read it ever, he will confess me a better listener
than he is wont to think.