OF WHAT BEFELL ON THE TERRACE
IT was dark when my senses deserted me; it was still dark when they
returned amidst the accompanying roar of the battlefield. I was
stretched at full length upon the ground, pressed down by some heavy
weight that rendered me powerless of moving hand or foot. Dimly through
the black pall of smoke that enveloped me I thought that I recognised
the outline of my old charger Gustavus, who had borne me in safety
through the perils of many a stricken field, to meet his death at last
amidst the rout of Teneffe. So it was Teneffe then! And yonder, where
the fire flashed redly, that was the village itself, fired by the Dutch
in that last charge in which a spent cannon-ball had struck me down.
Aye, I could see them now--a dense mass of men, fighting, struggling,
swaying to and fro amidst the blazing ruins of the hamlet. More, I
could see Conde’s veterans--victors of Naerden, Rhimberg and the Rhine,
recoiling before the berghers and traders of the Netherlands. Nearer
to me, upon an eminence some five hundred paces distant, a battery of
French artillery added their iron tongues to the increasing roar of the
field. Faintly, whenever the smoke drifted, I could see the gunners
working madly at their pieces; but as the retreat of their comrades
before William’s stolid infantry developed rapidly into a rout, the
guns ceased firing one by one, and limbering up, they advanced at a
gallop upon the spot where--totally incapable of movement--I lay full
in their path.
I struggled vainly to rise--a mountain seemed to press me down. I
strove to cry out, but no sound came from my parched lips. Nearer
and nearer, swifter and swifter, they swept down upon me, in one
fierce tempest of maddened horses and shouting men, with the great
guns swaying behind them. Now, so close were they, that I could see
the wild, straining eyes of the horses and the blackened faces of
the gunners, who lashed their teams to frenzy. Now with a trembling
of the ground beneath me--a nightmare of blood-red beasts and giant
riders--they were upon me, over me. With a despairing cry I flung out
my arm and awoke to a full consciousness of my surroundings.
I drew a deep breath and lay for a time gazing up at the ceiling
overhead, until the noises in my head gradually subsided, and I
became conscious of a fierce throbbing in my left shoulder, that most
effectually brought back the events of the previous day to my memory.
Glancing downwards, I saw that my arm was supported in a sling upon my
breast. At that I rose with an effort upon my right elbow and, despite
the feeling of faintness that oppressed me, took a rapid survey of my
surroundings. Clad only in my shirt and breeches, I lay upon a bed of
rugs in a room that I had never previously seen. In what part of the
manor it was situated I could not form a guess, but from its appearance
I judged that it was used for little else than a lumber room. Beside
my couch my eyes lighted upon a tray, whereon was set a flask of
spirits, put ready there, I opined, ’gainst my awaking. I reached for
the flask and drank deeply of its contents. It was cognac--in quality
the best--and with the generous spirit I felt my strength return to
me and the life blood course swifter through my veins. Presently I
staggered to my feet and moved somewhat unsteadily in the direction
of the window. It was guarded by three massive iron bars let into the
solid masonry, and of such a thickness as to effectually preclude all
possibility of escape in that direction. My prison was in the left
wing of the house, for below me was the stable yard, with the stables
themselves directly facing me. No one was about, so that taking this
fact, together with the coolness of the morning air into consideration,
I judged that the hour was yet early. Ah, but it was good to breathe
the fresh sea breeze into one’s lungs, to watch the sunlight dancing in
the courtyard, and the white, fleecy clouds chasing each other overhead.
I next turned my attention to the wound upon my shoulder, striving in
so far as I was able to ascertain the exact extent of injury inflicted.
To my surprise and gratification, upon slipping my arm from the sling
which supported it, I found that I could move it with tolerable
freedom, and with no very great addition to the pain that I already
endured.
Presently I made the discovery that the sling itself belonged to
me--was, in fact, no other than the very scarf which I had bound
around my lady’s wrist. Up till that moment I had been so absorbed in
examining my prison, that I had lost all recollection of the means
which had deprived me for the time being of my liberty. But now at the
sight of this scarf, bringing back in a flood of memory all my lady’s
treachery and my own humiliation, I fell into so fierce a rage as
surely never woman roused in man before.
In a sudden access of unreasoning passion I tore the silken sling from
around my neck and ground it savagely beneath my heel. Oh, for one hour
of liberty! One hour of revenge upon this woman who had beguiled me to
my undoing! One hour to break that haughty spirit--to bend, to crush,
to bring her grovelling upon her knees for pity! Pity? If that the time
should ever come that I could repay her for the present shame I felt
by striking her through those she loved, then let her not look for any
pity at the hands of the man whom she had wronged, for by all I held
most sacred I would not spare her!
After awhile, oppressed by a feeling that I could not breathe, I moved
again to the window, that the cool sea breeze might play upon my
burning forehead.
“Good-day to you, general,” said a mocking voice. “Will your lordship
be pleased to require your horse this morning?” I glanced swiftly down.
Below me in the courtyard was the youth Martin, and behind him the
grinning faces of the other two stable hands. All three carried
old-fashioned muskets in their hands, with more or less rusty swords
strapped to their waists. Evidently my prison was well guarded.
I stepped hastily back from the casement, yet not so quickly but that
I caught the jeering laugh with which the words were accompanied. It
was this laugh more than the insolence of the words themselves that
stung me once more to sudden rage; and I fell to pacing the floor in a
frenzy of impotent passion.
Doubtless my lady had taken a pleasure in relating to all within the
house the manner in which the poor dupe had fallen into her snare--aye,
and had laughed--laughed with them over my discomfiture! The latter
thought was maddening.
I stopped in my walk, and in order to seek any distraction rather than
to dwell further upon my shame, I set to work in feverish haste to
examine the lumber that the room contained, in the hope that I might
discover some weapon with which to arm myself. Though to what purpose,
seeing that I had no strength to use it, even if I had stumbled upon
that which I sought, I did not stop to reason. But there was no
weapon of any description to be found. Books there were in plenty,
old tapestry and pictures, china and odd-looking furniture, in shape
such as I had never previously seen, and all bearing the same mark of
extreme age.
Presently I desisted from my search and again peered cautiously out
of the window. The two louts still lingered in the doorway of the
stable opposite, but the youth Martin had disappeared. Even as I stood
watching the men before me somewhere within the house a door banged too
loudly, and there came the sound of footsteps nearing the room in which
I was confined. At that I reseated myself upon the chest and strove to
regain my ordinary composure, for I was determined that my gaolers
should not be witnesses of how deeply I felt the shame of my present
position. The footsteps ceased in the passage without, a key was thrust
into the lock, and a moment later the heavy door swung open, disclosing
the figure of the steward.
“You are to follow me,” he growled, with a sour smile.
“Whither?” I asked curtly.
“That you will soon know,” he replied, with all his old hatred of me
looking out of his eyes. “Come--no more words.”
“I will know now, or I do not stir from this room,” I said stubbornly.
“Hark you, Master Steward, I have asked you a civil question and I
await your answer.”
“What if I refuse?” he growled. “I have it in my power to compel you.”
“You may use force if it so please you,” I answered boldly, snatching
up the stool upon which I had been sitting.
“But in that case I warn you there will be more than one head broken
ere I am removed.”
For a few moments we faced each other in silence, and he half turned,
as though he was about to summon assistance, but apparently he thought
better of it, or my resolute attitude daunted him, for again he
hesitated.
“Very well, if you must know,” he said with a grim smile, “to my lady,
then.”
“Ah!” was all I answered, though I felt my heart quicken.
“And now I hope you are satisfied,” he continued, his former insolent
manner returning. “So come, let us have no further waste of time.”
“What, as I am?” I cried quickly, remembering on a sudden the
scantiness of my attire. Even the shirt I wore had been partly cut away
to enable them to dress my wound. “Where is my uniform, you rascal?”
“Burnt!” he answered sneeringly. “And I have no orders to play the part
of tailor.”
“To the devil with your orders!” I cried in a rage. “Get me some
clothes, fool! Would you have me appear before ladies in this guise?”
Still for a moment he hesitated, then, “Wait,” he said briefly. And
he went out, locking the heavy door behind him. When the last sound
of his footsteps had died away, I commenced to pace the floor in some
agitation. So I was to see my lady then? In good sooth I had need of
all my composure to face the coming interview. Not for the world would
I have her see that any words of hers had power to move me. Not for the
world would I give her cause to triumph at my humiliation. Rapidly I
shaped out in my own mind a course of conduct to pursue and had reduced
my face to a state of impassiveness ere, after the lapse of some ten
minutes, the steward’s returning footsteps again became audible.
This time he carried a bundle in his hand, which he flung as carelessly
at my feet as one might fling a bone to some stray cur.
I turned it over with my foot. It was a coat of coarse brown cloth such
as any groom might wear, and reeked indeed most vilely of the stable.
“Pah!” I said in disgust. “Is this the best you can find me, man?”
“Best?” he cried impatiently. “Aye, and too good at that, since it
comes from the back of an honest man. But make your choice and quickly!
Either you come of your own accord or we will drag you there. Time
presses. Which is it to be?”
I saw that the knave would keep his word, and now that I knew my
destination I was in no mind to appear before my lady in so undignified
a fashion. I bade him sharply then to hold his peace and to assist me
in donning the coat--of which a closer inspection lent but an increase
to the repugnance I felt in wearing. This, indeed, seeing that it was
impossible owing to my wound that I could accomplish of myself, he
presently did, though with much muttering the while, of which I took no
heed.
Even then I was forced to again resume my sling and to fasten the one
empty sleeve upon my breast, for I found that I could not yet force my
arm within it, owing to the latter’s stiffness. This done, I turned to
the steward.
“I am ready,” I said curtly. “Lead on, my friend.”
He looked at me with a cunning smile. “Not so fast,” he answered,
stepping quickly into the passage and drawing a pistol from his breast.
“You will go first, if you please; and play me no tricks, for I am
armed, as you see, and I have a good memory.”
In truth, I saw that the knave would only be too glad to revenge
himself upon me, so I shrugged my shoulders indifferently and turned
along the passage in the direction he indicated.
In this order we proceeded, then, until we reached the entrance hall.
Yet still the lout behind me pointed forward, and we passed out of the
main door, and so into the open air.
But it was only when I was descending the steps that I fully realised
the scene, and the meaning of the shouts that I had heard became plain
to me. For on my right, at the end of the terrace, where three broad
steps led down on to the grassland bordering the main avenue, was a
little group of some half dozen persons, among whom my eyes lighted
almost immediately upon the tall figure of my lady.
Below them, upon the grass, the whole of the villagers, men, women and
children, seemed to have gathered; and a clamour of derisive shouts
greeted my appearance.
Beyond bestowing one look of contempt upon them I took no heed, but
calling all my fortitude to my aid, with head erect and with a firm
step I passed along the terrace to where my lady awaited me.
As I approached nearer I scanned the persons before me more closely.
With some at least I was already acquainted. There was Mistress Grace,
who eyed me, I thought, with a glance that bespoke more of pity for
my forlorn condition than of triumph at the successful issue of their
enterprise. Near to her was my late adversary, the young Sir Rupert
Courtenay, and three or four of the neighbouring gentry, all of whom I
knew to be of the Jacobite persuasion; while at the head of the steps,
with a grim smile upon his face, stood the stalwart figure of Sampson
Dare. But it was with more curiosity that I gazed upon the two men
with whom my lady herself was conversing. They were seated at a small
table, a bottle and glasses before them, and a more villainous pair of
rogues it has seldom been my lot to set eyes upon. He who seemed to be
the spokesman was dressed in a voluminous skirted coat of blue, adorned
here and there with tarnished bold braid. Beneath this was a faded
silken vest, and I caught a glimpse of a brace of pistols garnishing
the broad belt at his waist. His legs, like those of his companion,
were encased in high sea-boots that reached all but to his thigh, and
upon his head was an old-fashioned three-cornered hat. In years he
might have been anything from forty to sixty, but his brown mahogany
face was so scarred and wrinkled that it gave no clear indication as to
his age. That he was a seaman I saw at a glance, and my mind instantly
reverted to the vessel I had seen in the bay. His companion was a
tall, gaunt man, dressed in a coarse blue jerkin and with a red cotton
cap upon his head. For the rest, both these worthies wore heavy gold
earrings and carried long swords at their sides. Master and mate I took
them to be, and as it subsequently proved, my surmise was correct.
At length I came to a halt, I caught the words which he of the blue
coat was addressing to my lady. “No, no,” he was saying in a harsh
voice that was well in keeping with his whole appearance, “have no fear
on that score, mistress. They shall be treated like gentlemen. Curse
me! like gentlemen. No more humane a man than I am ever set sail from
Bristol port, as Silas Ball here will tell you.”
Here he looked across at the mate, who grinned broadly, as at some
excellent jest--a jest which at the time I failed to comprehend, though
afterwards I came to experience more of the former gentleman’s humanity.
“Given a fair wind, in two days’ time they will be---- Is this the
man?” he added abruptly, setting down his half-emptied glass and
bending his brows upon me.
Up till now my lady had been standing with her back to me, but at
these words she turned, and we were face to face. For it may be twenty
seconds we stood thus, my lady proud and cold, I with a tumult of
conflicting emotions in my breast, in which a rapidly rising rage
against her treachery was the more predominant. At once the clamour
around us was stilled into the silence of a great expectancy.
“This is the man, Captain Barclay,” my lady said quietly. Then, with
her eyes still upon mine, she added: “I trust, sir, that your wound is
on a fair way towards recovery?”
“Madam,” I answered bitterly, striving to control the passion in my
voice, “awhile ago you accused me of hypocrisy in that I pitied you.
I think that the accusation might well be reversed. You have openly
rebelled against the government, you have defied the royal authority,
and, for all that I am aware, have slain the troopers under my command,
and, lastly, you have deprived me, a king’s officer, of my liberty by
such base trickery as only the heart of a woman could conceive. You
should have been an actress, madam, had fate not willed you to be born
a lady. I congratulate you. Satan himself might take lessons from you
in deceit!” For a moment she did not speak, and I saw the colour deepen
in her face.
“I fought you with a woman’s weapons,” she answered coldly--“your manly
wit against my woman’s beauty. If I succeeded, you have but yourself to
blame.”
“You say true, madam,” I cried hotly. “For falsehood, flattery and
guile--those are, indeed, a woman’s weapons--not a gentleman’s!”
“Then by your own words, sir,” she replied icily, “you do but prove the
truth of my assertion.”
“As to the sequel of your scheme, madam,” I continued, “the shame of it
rests rather in success than failure. To your own conscience I leave it
to justify your conduct. But I have little doubt that long practice has
rendered your ladyship proficient in the art of deception to which I
fell a victim.”
She threw back her proud head and gazed at me with flashing eyes. “And
do you imagine, sir, even for a moment, that the part I degraded myself
into playing was an easy one!” she replied scornfully. “To expose
myself to the shame of your approval?”
“No, madam,” I answered sternly. “There you are wrong. For a man’s
honest admiration, however humble his station in life, carries no shame
to the woman who inspires it--were she the highest in the land.”
“Oh, sir,” she cried ironically, “spare me your sophistry; for honesty
coupled with your name is too incongruous. And let me take this
opportunity of informing you that thanks to your credulity the army of
France, so long delayed, may land in safety on our shores to-night; and
thus, sir, indirectly, you have hastened the first step that restores
the Stuart to the throne.”
Then raising her voice so that all might hear: “God save King James!”
she cried clearly; and the cry was enthusiastically caught up both by
the gentlemen upon the terrace and the waiting crowd below.
“And you tell me this, madam?” I said in a choked voice when the
clamour had died away.
She turned upon me with a scornful smile. “If you think that you can
make use of the information, sir, you are welcome to do so,” she
replied. “But I think--and these gentlemen will bear me witness--that
your present position is scarcely to be envied.” And she mocked me.
Standing there in the pride of her power and her beauty she mocked
me--I, a weak and wounded prisoner!
“And you are wounded, too,” she continued pitilessly, “and by one
scarce more than a boy--a boy!” she added with intense scorn. “I think
if I remember right, sir, that you offered me the service of your
sword. When I require such service from any man on my behalf, it shall
be from one who has the wit and strength--aye, and skill enough to
handle it.”
I stood trembling and dumb before her, gazing from one to the other of
the ruthless, mocking faces around me, and back again to my lady’s
scornful countenance. Yet was there no real cause for me to wonder at
her present mood; for deep down in the heart of every woman--aye, even
in the very best of them, there is an innate well of cruelty, a delight
in inflicting pain upon our sex, which, it may be, is engendered by
their physical inferiority. It was at this moment that, as with a sense
of utter loneliness I faced my encircling enemies, a sudden faintness
seized me. I know not whether it was due unto my wound, or whether all
that I had passed through had overtaxed my strength, but I staggered
back against the terrace wall. Yet even in that moment I was not so far
unconscious but that I heard an exclamation of pity escape the lips of
Mistress Grace.
“Madam,” I gasped hoarsely--I could bear no more--“let us end this.
Kill me if you will, but for God’s sake end this!”
“You are right, sir,” she answered quickly. “I will end it, and spare
myself the further insult of your ‘honest admiration.’ There are depths
below depths of infamy and shame. But if admiration is based upon
kindred qualities of spirit, I can conceive no greater degradation than
to be the object of your passion.” Yet as she spoke I saw that the
colour had forsaken her face and she pressed her hand against her side,
as if in sudden pain. Aye, others saw it too, for, “Lettice, you are
ill!” her sister cried, hastening to her assistance. But my lady put
her aside.
“No, no,” she cried passionately. “It is nothing--nothing! Is not this
the hour of my triumph? And shall I not take it? Shall I not----” She
broke off abruptly with a slight shudder, then with a sudden change of
manner she ran to the terrace wall and beckoned to the expectant crowd
below.
“Look there,” she cried fiercely, flinging out her arm towards me.
“There is the man before whom for many days we have cowered and
trembled, who has held our safety and our lives in the hollow of
his hand; there is the man who has called himself our master--our
master--yours and mine--mine! Look well upon him now!”
A fierce shout answered her words and the crowd pressed forward to the
foot of the steps with menacing cries and curses, in which the voices
of the women joined the loudest.
“Give him to us!” a voice shouted, and the cry was quickly caught up
and repeated. “Aye, give him to us! To the cliffs with him!”
“To the cliffs, say you?” cried a wild-eyed woman shrilly, darting up
the steps and endeavouring to push her way past Sampson Dare. “To the
gallows with him! ’Twas such as he that hung my boy to the sign-post
of the inn for following King Monmouth! Aye, and played their drums
the while to drown his dying cries! This for you--butcher!” She
flung a clod of earth that struck me full in the face, and above the
fierce shout of approval that greeted her words, mingled with those
of “butcher!” and “to the sign-post with him!” I heard my lady give a
hard, cruel laugh at my discomfiture. Stung more by this than all the
indignities heaped upon me, I rallied all my strength and faced them
squarely at the head of the steps.
“Peace, you hounds,” I cried sternly. “You who yelp so loudly now for
James would, at a turn of Fortune’s wheel, bark louder still--for
William! Not with such as you have I to deal. But for you, madam!” I
cried hoarsely, turning to my lady, who stood pale and erect, her eyes
shining with defiance and a light I could not read--“you, who knowing
better, lure these senseless hinds to ruin with a cunning worthy of
yourself and of your cause--to you, I say, the debt between us is
no light one. Look to yourself in the day that I repay you for this
morning’s work!”
In the vehemence of my passion my wound reopened, and with the world
receding from my fading vision I fell back senseless in the arms of
Sampson Dare.