The gardens of Harby were captain jewels in the crown of Oxfordshire.
From the terrace they spread in spaces of changeful beauty over many
acres of fruitful earth. Evander had seen to it that no further harm
was done to these lovely spaces than was inevitable for the conduct
of the siege. There were some in his company, hissing hot zealots,
who were all for laying violating hands upon the temples of Baal and
the shrines of Ashtaroth, by which Evander rightly interpreted them
to mean the pleasaunces of clipped yews, the rose bowers, the box
hedges, and the generous autumnal orchards. They were eager to show
their scorn of the Amalekites by the lopping of ancient trees and the
treading of colored blossoms under the heel of Israel. But Evander
was as firm as these were frantic, and the gardens of Harby smiled
through familiar process of sun and rain and dew, untroubled by the
daily rattle of musketry and the nightly tramp of sentinels.
Evander reaped a reward for which he had not labored in his chivalry
to a belligerent and besieged lady. For the gardens that a conqueror
had preserved were now very fair indeed for a conquered man to walk
in. The October sun shone as if the royal triumph, yonder at Edgehill
and here at Harby, had rekindled summer on the chilling altar of the
year, and the hues of the lingering flowers flamed in the celestial
fires.
If Evander's thoughts were sable, he did not allow them to stain the
fair day and his companion's gayety. Halfman swam now in the
extravagance of admiration for so miraculous a Puritan. Halfman loved
the apostles best on spoons of silver in a sea-bag swollen with loot,
but of the men he had the best word for Peter, who could use a sword
on occasion. And here was one of the saints on earth playing his
rapier as bravely as if he had been a gentleman born or gentleman
adventurer made, and had skimmed the seas and kissed and killed and
pilfered.
He plied Evander, as they paced, with questions of swordsmanship and
schools of arms and masters, of the Italian method and the Spanish
method and the French method, and never caught his new Hector
tripping over a push or a parade. They moved over danceable lawns or
under the canopies of dim avenues, chattering of arms, till the soft
October air tingled with the names of famous fencers, and Halfman was
in fancy a lubber lad again at his first passado.
But his wonder grew with their wanderings. They paused at the
bowling-green and played a game which Evander won. They visited the
stables where the horses now were rallied, that had lived hidden in
farm-yard and cottage garden during the siege. Here Halfman learned
that Evander liked hawks and loved horses, and knew their manage
better than himself. Had Evander proclaimed himself a whisperer, it
would not now have astonished Halfman.
Again, as they passed by the orchard where Luke Gardener was busy,
Halfman must needs bring Luke and Evander acquainted, whereupon the
pair set straight to talking of garden talk and airing of weather
wisdom in speech long since to him as unfamiliar as Hebrew. Here
Evander's science wearied him, and he fairly dragged his captive
away, declaring that there was yet much to see more honorable than
herbs or brambles. Evander obeyed very contentedly, but they had not
moved many paces when Luke came hobbling after, and, catching
Halfman, drew him by the arm apart.
"Is yonder truly a damnable Roundhead?" he questioned. Halfman nodded
his head.
"Well," continued Luke, "for that he deserves to be hanged, and yet
he has taught me a trick of grafting roses which he says the Dutch
use that might serve to save a worser man from the gallows."
Without a word Halfman shook his arm free and rejoined Evander, who
was moving slowly along a pathway leading towards an enclosure of
fantastically clipped yews. Hearing the footsteps behind him, Evander
halted till Halfman joined him.
"How the devil came you to fathom flower knowledge?" Halfman asked.
Evander smiled faintly.
"I would rather you unsaddled the devil from your question," he
answered, rebuking in his mind a woman; "but I have always loved
gardens. You have one here who is skilled in topiary," and he pointed
towards the trim yew hedge they were approaching.
"Those are the green walls of my lady's pleasaunce," Halfman
answered, "and the learned in such trifles call them mighty fine. But
all I know of woodcraft is hatcheting me a path through virgin
forest."
"Where, indeed, your topiarist would be ill at ease," Evander
answered. "But I pray you let us retire, lest we intrude upon your
lady."
"Never fear for that," said Halfman. "My lady is busy enough in-doors
to-day, setting her house to rights, and you should not miss the
comeliest nook in all the domain."
As he spoke he passed under an archway of clipped yew, and, Evander
following, the pair came upon a grassy space entirely girdled with
yew hedges, the sight of which instantly justified to Evander the
praise of his companion. The enclosure made a circle some half an
acre in size of the greenest turf imaginable, orderly bordered with
seats of white marble and belted all about with the black greenness
of the yew-tree hedge, which was fashioned like an Italian colonnade.
The arches afforded vistas of different and delightful prospects of
the park at every quarter of the card--woodland, savanna-like lawns,
flower-gardens, kitchen-gardens, and orchards in their pride.
"This is a lovely place," protested Evander. "One might sit here and
dream of seeing the shy wood-nymphs flitting through these aisles--if
one had no better thoughts for one's idleness," he added. Halfman
laughed.
"There peeped out the Puritan," he said. "I had lost him this long
while, but run him to earth in my lady's pleasaunce. Yet you are a
queer kind of Puritan, too. You can fence like a Frenchman, you can
play bowls as Father Jove plays with the globes of heaven, and you
can ride like Diomed, the jolly Greek, who knew that horses could be
stridden as well as driven."
Evander, who had seated himself and had been tracing cabalistic signs
on the grass with his staff, looked up into his companion's face.
"Are not you rather a queer kind of Cavalier," he asked, "if you
think that a Puritan must needs be a fool?"
Halfman laughed back at him, and as he laughed he showed his teeth so
seeming white by contrast with his sunburned cheeks, and he seemed to
Evander more than ever like some half-tamed beast of prey.
"You are no fool, Puritan," Halfman shouted, "or Heaven would not
have wasted its time in gracing you with such skill at sports. So
great with the rapier, so wise on the bias. No, no; you are no fool.
I am almost sad to think you quit us so soon, enemy though you be."
While Halfman had been babbling, Evander had again been busy with his
staff. Halfman had paid no heed to his actions, being far too deep in
his own phrases. Had he been attentive he might have noticed that at
first Evander wrote on the green grass, as vainly as he might have
written in water, a word, a name: Brilliana. Had he been attentive he
might have noticed that Evander now wrote another word that was also
a name and more than a name: Death. But he did not notice, and as he
ended with his odd tribute to his enemy, Evander looked up at him
with a calm face.
"I shall not quit you so soon," he said, in an even voice. "I have
come to stay at Harby."
Halfman looked at him, puzzled.
"Stay at Harby," he repeated. "Nonsense, man; what are you thinking
of? You will be riding hence in three days' time, when Sir Randolph
is released."
Evander shook his head.
"Sir Randolph will not be released," he said. The quiet positiveness
in his tone staggered Halfman. Stooping, with his hands resting on
his knees, his unquiet eyes stared into Evander's quiet eyes.
"Sir Randolph will not be released! Why the devil will Sir Randolph
not be released?"
Evander rose from his seat and rested his hand for a moment lightly
on Halfman's arm, while he said, impressively:
"Say nothing of this to your lady, for Sir Randolph is her kinsman,
and I think she holds him dear. Let ill news come late. But if
Colonel Cromwell has taken a spy prisoner, that spy will very surely
die."
Halfman stiffened himself. His eyes had never left Evander's, and he
knew that Evander spoke what he believed. He gave a short laugh.
"And very surely if Sir Randolph be shot over yonder you will be shot
down here."
"That," said Evander, still smiling, "is why I say that I have come
to stay at Harby."
"You take your fate blithely," Halfman commented, scanning Evander
with curiosity. He was familiar with the sight of men in peril of
death; in most men he took courage for granted, but it was courage of
a gaudier quality than the composure of the young Puritan, who had
fenced with him and played bowls with him that very morning and
talked so learnedly of roses with Luke, the gardener. Was there
really something in the Puritan stuff that strengthened men's
spirits? Evander answered his words and unconsciously his thoughts.
"I should not have taken up arms if I held my life too precious. It
will need three days to get the answer, the inevitable answer, and in
the mean time the autumn air is kind and these gardens delightful."
Halfman stared at him in an ecstasy of admiration, and then dealt
him an applauding clap on the shoulder.
"Come to the kitchen-garden, philosopher," he cried. "A fellow of
your phlegm should find pleasure in the contemplation of cabbages."
"It is a sage vegetable," Evander answered. "But I fear I tax your
time. There must be much for you to do."
"I have done much already," Halfman replied. "But, indeed, these be
busy times."
"Then," protested Evander, "when I have stared my fill at your
meditative cabbage I shall entreat no more of your kindness but that
you convoy me to the safe port of the library, where I shall be
content enough."
"As you please," Halfman responded. "I was never a bookish man; I
care for no books but play-books and these I carry here," and he beat
his brown forehead. "But you may nose out some theologies in odd
corners, as a pig noses truffles."
"I shall rout out something to fill my leisure I doubt not," Evander
answered.
"Then hey for the kitchen-garden," cried Halfman, taking Evander's
arm, and the two men, passing through a yew arch opposite to that by
which they had entered, left my lady's pleasaunce as solitary as they
had found it.