A WILLFUL MAN'S WAY.
Only to feel that we were moving was a relief, though our march was
very slow. Master Bertie carried the child slung in a cloak before
him, and, thus burdened, could not well go beyond a smooth amble,
while the guides, who were on foot, and the pack-horses, found this
pace as much as they could manage. A little while and the exhilaration
of the start died away. The fine morning was followed by a wet
evening, and before we had left Emmerich three miles behind us Master
Bertie and I had come to look at one another meaningly. We were moving
in a dreary, silent procession through heavy rain, with the prospect
of the night closing in early. The road, too, grew more heavy with
each furlong, and presently began to be covered with pools of water.
We tried to avoid this inconvenience by resorting to the hill slopes
on our left, but found the attempt a waste of time, as a deep stream
or backwater, bordered by marshes, intervened. The narrow road, raised
but little above the level of the swiftly flowing river on our right,
turned out to be our only possible path; and when Master Bertie
discerned this his face grew more and more grave.
We soon found, indeed, as we plodded along, that a sheet of water,
which palely reflected the evening light, was taking the place of the
road; and through this we had to plash and plash at a snail's pace,
one of the guides on a pack-horse leading the way, and Master Bertie
in charge of his wife coming next; then, at some distance, for her
horse did not take kindly to the water, the younger woman followed in
my care. The other guide brought up the rear. In this way, stopped
constantly by the fears of the horses, which were scared by the
expanse of flood before them, we crept wearily on until the moon rose.
It brought, alas, an access of light, but no comfort! The water seemed
continually to grow deeper, the current on our right swifter; and each
moment I dreaded the announcement that farther advance was impossible.
It seemed to have come to that at last, for I saw the Duchess and her
husband stop and stand waiting for me, their dark shadows projected
far over the moonlit surface.
"What is to be done?" Master Bertie called out, as we moved up to
them. "The guide tells me that there is a broken piece of road in
front which will be impassable with this depth of water."
I had expected to hear this; yet I was so dumfoundered--for, this
being true, we were lost indeed--that for a time I could not answer.
No one had uttered a word of reproach, but I knew what they must be
thinking. I had brought them to this. It was my foolish insistence had
done it. The poor beast under me shivered. I struck him with my heels.
"We must go forward!" I said desperately. "Or what? What do you think?
Go back?"
"Steady! steady, Master Knight Errant!" the Duchess cried in her calm,
brave voice. "I never knew you so bad a counselor before!"
"It is my fault that you are here," I said, looking dismally around.
"Perhaps the other road is as bad," Master Bertie replied. "At any
rate, that is past and gone. The question is, what are we to do now?
To remain here is to die of cold and misery. To go back may be to run
into the enemy's arms. To go forward----"
"Will be to be drowned!" Mistress Anne cried with a pitiful sob.
I could not blame her. A more gloomy outlook than ours, as we sat on
our jaded horses in the middle of this waste of waters, which appeared
in the moonlight to be boundless, could scarcely be imagined. The
night was cold for the time of year, and the keen wind pierced our
garments and benumbed our limbs. At any moment the rain might begin
afresh, and the moon be overcast. Of ourselves, we could not take a
step without danger, and our guides had manifestly lost their heads
and longed only to return.
"Yet, I am for going forward," the Duchess urged. "If there be but
this one bad place we may pass it with care."
"We may," her husband assented dubiously. "But suppose when we have
passed it we can go no farther. Suppose the----"
"It is no good supposing!" she retorted with some sharpness. "Let us
cross this place first, Richard, and we will deal with the other when
we come to it."
He nodded assent, and we moved slowly forward, compelling the guides
to go first. In this order we waded some hundred yards through water,
which grew deeper with each step, until it rose nearly to our girths.
Then the lads stopped.
"Are we over?" said the Duchess eagerly.
For answer one of them pointed to the flood before him, and peering
forward I made out a current sweeping silently and swiftly across our
path--a current with an ominous rush and swirl.
"Over?" grunted Master Bertie. "No, this is the place. See, the road
has given way, and the stream is pouring through from the river. I
expect it is getting worse every minute as the banks crumble."
We all craned forward, looking at it. It was impossible to say how
deep the water was, or how far the deep part might extend. And we had
with us a child and two women.
"We must go back!" said Master Bertie resolutely. "There is no doubt
about it. The flood is rising. If we do not take care, we shall be cut
off, and be able to go neither backward nor forward. I cannot see a
foot of dry land, as it is, before or behind us."
He was right. Far and wide, wherever our eyes could reach, the
moonlight was reflected in a sheet of water. We were nearly up to our
girths in water. On one side was the hurrying river, on the other were
the treacherous depths of the backwater. I asked the guide as well as
I could whether the road was good beyond. He answered that he did not
know. He and his companion were so terrified that we only kept them
beside us by threats.
"I fear we must go back," I said, assenting sorrowfully.
Even the Duchess agreed, and we were in the act of turning to
retrace our steps with what spirit we might, when a distant sound
brought us all to a standstill again. The wind was blowing from the
quarter whence we had come--from Emmerich; and it brought to us the
sound of voices. We all stopped to listen. Yes, they were voices we
heard--loud, strident tones, mingled now with the sullen plash of
horses tramping through the water. I looked at the Duchess. Her face
was pale, but her courage did not fail her. She understood in a trice
that the danger we had so much dreaded was upon us--that we were
followed, and the followers were at our heels; and she turned her
horse round again. Without a word she spurred it back toward the deep
part. I seized Anne's rein and followed, notwithstanding that the poor
girl in her terror would have resisted. Letting the guides go as they
pleased, we four in a moment found ourselves abreast again, our horses
craning over the stream, while we, with whip and spur, urged them on.
In cold blood we should scarcely have done it. Indeed, for a minute,
as our steeds stumbled, and recovered themselves, and slid forward,
only to draw back trembling--as the water rose above our boots or was
flung by our fellows in our eyes, and all was flogging and scrambling
and splashing, it seemed as if we were to be caught in a trap despite
our resolve. But at last Master Bertie's horse took the plunge. His
wife's followed; and both, partly floundering and partly swimming, set
forward snorting the while in fear. To my joy I saw them emerge safely
not ten yards away, and, shaking themselves, stand comparatively high
out of the water.
"Come!" cried my lady imperatively, as she turned in her saddle with a
gesture of defiance. "Come! It is all right."
Come, indeed! I wanted nothing better, for I was beside myself with
passion. But, flog as I might, I could not get Anne's brute to take
the plunge. The girl herself could give me no aid; clinging to her
saddle, pale and half-fainting, she could only beg me to leave her,
crying out again and again in a terrified voice that she would be
drowned. With her cry there suddenly mingled another, the hail of our
pursuers as they sighted us. I could hear them drawing nearer, and I
grew desperate. Luckily they could not make any speed in water so
deep, and time was given me for one last furious effort. It succeeded.
My horse literally fell into the stream; it dragged Anne's after it.
How we kept our seats, how they their footing, I never understood;
but, somehow, splashing and stumbling and blinded by the water dashed
in our faces, we came out on the other side, where the Duchess and her
husband, too faithful to us to save themselves, had watched the
struggle in an agony of suspense. I did but fling the girl's rein to
Master Bertie; and then I wheeled my horse to the stream again. I had
made up my mind what I must do. "Go on," I cried, waving my hand with
a gesture of farewell. "Go on! I can keep them here for a while."
"Nonsense!" I heard the Duchess cry, her voice high and shrill. "It
is----"
"Go on!" I cried. "Go on! Do not lose a moment, or it will be
useless."
Master Bertie hesitated. But he too saw that this was the only chance.
The Spaniards were on the brink of the stream now, and must, if they
passed it, overtake us easily. He hesitated, I have said, for a
moment. Then he seized his wife's rein and drew her on, and I heard
the three horses go splashing away through the flood. I threw a
glance at them over my shoulder, bethinking me that I had not told
the Duchess my story, and that Sir Anthony and Petronilla would
never--but, pish! What was I thinking of? That was a thought for a
woman. I had only to harden my heart now, and set my teeth together.
My task was very simple indeed. I had just to keep these men--there
were four--here as long as I could, and if possible to stop Clarence's
pursuit altogether.
For I had made no mistake. The first man to come up was
Clarence--Clarence himself. He let fall a savage word as his horse
stopped suddenly with its fore feet spread out on the edge of the
stream, and his dark face grew darker as he saw the swirling eddies,
and me standing fronting him in the moonlight with my sword out. He
discerned at once, I think, the strength of my position. Where I stood
the water was scarcely over my horse's fetlocks. Where he stood it was
over his horse's knees. And between us it flowed nearly four feet
deep.
He held a hasty parley with his companions. And then he hailed me.
"Will you surrender?" he cried in English. "We will give you quarter."
"Surrender? To whom?" I said. "And why--why should I surrender? Are
you robbers and cutpurses?"
"Surrender in the name of the Emperor, you fool!" he answered sternly
and roughly.
"I know nothing about the Emperor!" I retorted. "What Emperor?"
"In the Queen's name, then!"
"The Duke of Cleves is queen here!" I cried. "And as the flood is
rising," I added scornfully, "I would advise you to go home again."
"You would advise, would you? Who _are_ you?" he replied, in a kind of
wrathful curiosity.
I gave him no answer. I have often since reflected, with a fuller
knowledge of certain facts, that no stranger interview ever took place
than this short colloquy between us, that no stranger fight ever was
fought than that which we contemplated as we stood there bathed in the
May moonlight, with the water all round us, and the cold sky above. A
strange fight indeed it would have been between him and me, had it
ever come to the sword's point!
But this was what happened. His last words had scarcely rung out when
my horse began to quiver under me and sway backward and forward. I had
just time to take the alarm, when the poor beast sank down and rolled
gently over, leaving me bestriding its body, my feet in the water.
Whatever the cause of this, I had to disentangle myself, and that
quickly, for the four men opposite me, seeing me dismounted, plunged
with a cry of triumph into the water, and began to flounder across.
Without more ado I stepped forward to keep the ford.
The foremost and nearest to me was Clarence, whose horse began,
half-way across, to swim. It was still scrambling to regain its
footing when it came within my reach, and I slashed it cruelly across
the nostrils. It turned in an instant on its side. I saw the rider's
face gleam white in the water; his stirrup shone a moment as the horse
rolled over, then in a second the two were gone down the stream. It
was done so easily, so quickly, it amazed me. One gone! hurrah! I
turned quickly to the others, who were about landing. My blood was
fired, and my yell of victory, as I dashed at them, scared back two of
the horses. Despite their riders' urging, they turned and scrambled
out on the side from which they had entered. Only one was left, the
farthest from me. He got across indeed. Yet he was the most unlucky of
all, for his horse stumbled on landing, came down heavily on its head,
and flung him at my very feet.
[Illustration: I LUNGED TWICE AT THE RIDER]
It was no time for quarter--I had to think of my friends--and while
with one hand I seized the flying rein as the horse scrambled
trembling to its feet, with the other I lunged twice at the rider as
he half tried to rise, half tried to grasp at me. The second time I
ran him through, and he screamed shrilly. In those days I was young
and hotheaded, and I answered only by a shout of defiance, as I flung
myself into the saddle and dashed away through the water after my
friends.
_V[oe] victis!_ I had done enough to check the pursuit, and had yet
escaped myself. If I could join the others again, what a triumph it
would be! I had no guide, but neither had those in front of me; and
luckily at this point a row of pollard willows defined the line
between the road and the river. Keeping this on my right, I made good
way. The horse seemed strong under me, the water was shallow, and
appeared to be growing more so, and presently across the waste of
flood I discerned before me a dark, solitary tower, the tower
seemingly of a church, for it was topped by a stumpy spire, which
daylight would probably have shown to be of wood.
There was a little dry ground round the church, a mere patch in a sea
of water, but my horse rang its hoofs on it with every sign of joy,
and arched its neck as it trotted up to the neighborhood of the
church, whinnying with pleasure. From the back of the building, I was
not surprised, came an answering neigh. As I pulled up, a man, his
weapon in his hand, came from the porch, and a woman followed him. I
called to them gayly. "I fancied you would be here the moment I saw
the church!" I said, sliding to the ground.
"Thank Heaven you are safe!" the Duchess answered, and to my
astonishment she flung her arms round my neck and kissed me. "What has
happened?" she asked, looking in my eyes, her own full of tears.
"I think I have stopped them," I answered, turning suddenly shy,
though, boylike, I had been longing a few minutes before to talk of my
victory. "They tried to cross, and----"
I had not sheathed my sword. Master Bertie caught my wrist, and,
lifting the blade, looked at it. "So, so!" he said nodding. "Are you
hurt?"
"Not touched!" I answered. Before more was said he compelled his wife
to go back into the porch. The wind blew keenly across the open
ground, and we were all wet and shivering. When we had fastened up the
horse we followed her. The door of the church was locked, it seemed,
and the porch afforded the best shelter to be had. Its upper part was
of open woodwork, and freely admitted the wind; but wide eaves
projected over these openings, and over the door, so that at least it
was dry within. By huddling together on the floor against the windward
side we got some protection. I hastily told what had happened.
"So Clarence is gone!" My lady's voice as she said the words trembled,
but not in sorrow or pity as I judged. Rather in relief. Her dread and
hatred of the man were strange and terrible, and so seemed to me then.
Afterward, I learned that something had passed between them which made
almost natural such feelings on her part, and made natural also a
bitter resentment on his. But of that no more. "You are quite sure,"
she said--pressing me anxiously for confirmation--"that it was he!"
"Yes. But I am not sure that he is dead," I explained.
"You seem to bear a charmed life yourself," she said.
"Hush!" cried her husband quickly. "Do not say that to the lad. It is
unlucky. But do you think," he continued--the porch was in darkness,
and we could scarcely make out one another's faces--"that there is any
further chance of pursuit?"
"Not by that party to-night," I said grimly. "Nor I think to-morrow."
"Good!" he answered. "For I can see nothing but water ahead, and it
would be madness to go on by night without a guide. We must stay here
until morning, whatever the risk."
He spoke gloomily--and with reason. Our position was a miserable,
almost a desperate one, even on the supposition that pursuit had
ceased. We had lost all our baggage, food, wraps. We had no guides,
and we were in the midst of a flooded country, with two tender women
and a baby, our only shelter the porch of God's house. Mistress Anne,
who was crouching in the darkest corner next the church, seemed to
have collapsed entirely. I remembered afterward that I did not once
hear her speak that night. The Duchess tried to maintain our spirits
and her own; but in the face of cold, damp, and hunger, she could do
little. Master Bertie and I took it by turns to keep a kind of watch,
but by morning--it was a long night and a bitter one--we were worn
out, and slept despite our misery. We should have been surprised and
captured without a blow if the enemy had come upon us then.
I awoke with a start to find the gray light of a raw misty morning
falling upon and showing up our wretched group. The Duchess's head was
hidden in her cloak; her husband's had sunk on his breast; but
Mistress Anne--I looked at her and shuddered. Had she sat so all
night? Sat staring with that stony face of pain, and those tearless
eyes on the moonlight, on the darkness which had been before the dawn,
on the cold first rays of morning? Stared on all alike, and seen none?
I shuddered and peered at her, alarmed, doubtful, wondering, asking
myself what this was that had happened to her. Had fear and cold
killed her, or turned her brain? "Anne!" I said timidly. "Anne!"
She did not answer nor turn; nor did the fixed gaze of her eyes waver.
I thought she did not hear. "Anne!" I cried again, so loudly that the
Duchess stirred, and muttered something in her sleep. But the girl
showed no sign of consciousness. I put out my hand and touched her.
She turned sharply and saw me, and in an instant drew her skirt away
with a gesture of such dread, loathing repulsion as froze me; while a
violent shudder convulsed her whole frame. Afterward she seemed unable
to withdraw her eyes from me, but sat in the same attitude, gazing at
me with a fixed look of horror, as one might gaze at a serpent, while
tremor after tremor shook her.
I was frightened and puzzled, and was still staring at her, wondering
what I had done, when a footstep fell on the road outside and called
away my attention. I turned from her to see a man's figure looming
dark in the doorway. He looked at us--I suppose he had found the
horses outside--gazing in surprise at the queer group. I bade him
good-morning in Dutch, and he answered as well as his astonishment
would let him. He was a short, stout fellow, with a big face, capable
of expressing a good deal of astonishment. He seemed to be a peasant
or farmer. "What do you here?" he continued, his guttural phrases
tolerably intelligible to me.
I explained as clearly as I could that we were on the way to Wesel.
Then I awoke the Duchess and her husband, and stretching our chilled
and aching limbs, we went outside, the man still gazing at us. Alas!
the day was not much better than the night. We could see but a very
little way, a couple of hundred yards round us only. The rest was
mist--all mist. We appealed to the man for food and shelter, and he
nodded, and, obeying his signs rather than his words, we kicked up our
starved beasts and plodded out into the fog by his side. Anne mounted
silently and without objection, but it was plain that something
strange had happened to her. Her condition was unnatural. The Duchess
gazed at her very anxiously, and, getting no answers, or very scanty
ones, to her questions, shook her head gravely.
But we were on the verge of one pleasure at least. When we reached the
hospitable kitchen of the farmhouse it was joy indeed to stand before
the great turf fire, and feel the heat stealing into our half-frozen
bodies; to turn and warm back and front, while the good wife set bread
and hot milk before us. How differently we three felt in half an hour!
How the Duchess's eyes shone once more! How easily rose the laugh to
our lips! Joy had indeed come with the morning. To be warm and dry and
well fed after being cold and wet and hungry--what a thing this is!
But on one neither food nor warmth seemed to have any effect. Mistress
Anne did, indeed, in obedience to my lady's sharp words, raise her
bowl to her lips. But she set it down quickly and sat looking in dull
apathy at the glowing peat. What had come over her?
Master Bertie went out with the farmer to attend to the horses, and
when he came back he had news.
"There is a lad here," he said in some excitement, "who has just seen
three foreigners ride past on the road, along with two Germans on
pack-horses; five in all. They must be three of the party who followed
us yesterday."
I whistled. "Then Clarence got himself out," I said, shrugging my
shoulders. "Well! well!"
"I expect that is so," Master Bertie answered, the Duchess remaining
silent. "The question arises again, what is to be done?" he continued.
"We may follow them to Wesel, but the good man says the floods are
deep between here and the town, and we shall have Clarence and his
party before us all the way--shall perhaps run straight into their
arms."
"But what else can we do?" I said. "It is impossible to go back."
We held a long conference, and by much questioning of our host learned
that half a league away was a ferry-boat, which could carry as many as
two horses over the river at a time. On the farther side we might hit
a road leading to Santon, three leagues distant. Should we go to
Santon after all? The farmer thought the roads on that side of the
river might not be flooded. We should then be in touch once more with
our Dutch friends and might profit by Master Lindstrom's advice, on
which I for one was now inclined to set a higher value.
"The river is bank full. Are you sure the ferry-boat can cross?" I
asked.
Our host was not certain. And thereupon an unexpected voice struck in.
"Oh, dear, do not let us run any more risks!" it said. It was Mistress
Anne's. She was herself again, trembling, excited, bright-eyed; as
different as possible from the Anne of a few minutes before. A great
change had come over her. Perhaps the warmth had done it.
A third course was suggested, to stay quietly where we were. The
farmhouse stood at some little distance from the road; and though it
was rough--it was very rough, consisting only of two rooms, in one of
which a cow was stalled--still it could furnish food and shelter. Why
not stay there?
But the Duchess wisely, I think, decided against this. "It is
unpleasant to go wandering again," she said with a shiver. "But I
shall not rest until we are within the walls of a town. Master
Lindstrom laid so much stress on that. And I fancy that the party who
overtook us last night are not the main body. Others will have gone to
Wesel by boat perhaps, or along the other bank. There they will meet,
and, learning we have not arrived, they will probably return this way
and search for us."
"Clarence----"
"Yes, if we have Clarence to deal with," Master Bertie assented
gravely, "we cannot afford to lose a point. We will try the ferry."
It was something gained to start dry and warm. But the women's pale
faces--for little by little the fatigue, the want of rest, the fear,
were telling even on the Duchess--were sad to see. I was sore and
stiff myself. The wound I had received so mysteriously had bled
afresh, probably during last night's fight. We needed all our courage
to put a brave face on the matter, and bear up and go out again into
the air, which for the first week in May was cold and nipping.
Suspense and anxiety had told in various ways on all of us. While I
felt a fierce anger against those who were driving us to these
straits. Master Bertie was nervous and excited, alarmed for his wife
and child, and inclined to see an enemy in every bush.
However, we cheered up a little when we reached the ferry and found
the boat could cross without much risk. We had to go over in two
detachments, and it was nearly an hour past noon before we all stood
on the farther bank and bade farewell to the honest soul whose help
had been of so much importance to us. He told us we had three leagues
to go, and we hoped to be at rest in Santon by four o'clock.
But the three leagues turned out to be more nearly five, while the
road was so founderous that we had again and again to quit it.
The evening came on, the light waned, and still we were feeling our
way, so to speak--the women tired and on the verge of tears; the men
muddy to the waist, savage, and impatient. It was eight o'clock, and
dusk was well upon us before we caught sight of the first lights of
Santon, and in fear lest the gates might be shut, pressed forward at
such speed as our horses could compass.
"Do you go on!" the Duchess adjured us. "Anne and I will be safe
enough behind you. Let me take the child, and do you ride on. We
cannot pass the night in the fields."
The importance of securing admission was so great that Master Bertie
and I agreed; and cantered on, soon outstripping our companions, and
almost in the gloom losing sight of them. Dark masses of woods, the
last remnants, apparently, of a forest, lay about the road we had to
traverse. We were passing one of these, scarcely three hundred paces
short of the town, and I was turning in the saddle to see that the
ladies were following safely, when I heard Master Bertie, who was a
bow-shot in front of me, give a sudden cry.
I wheeled round hastily to learn the reason, and was just in time to
see three horsemen sweep into the road before him from the cover of
the trees. They were so close to him--and they filled the road--that
his horse carried him amongst them almost before he could check it, or
so it seemed to me. I heard their loud challenge, saw his arm wave,
and guessed that his sword was out. I spurred desperately to join him,
giving a wild shout of encouragement as I did so. But before I could
come up, or indeed cross half the distance, the scuffle was over. One
man fell headlong from his saddle, one horse fled riderless down the
road, and at sight of this, or perhaps of me, the others turned tail
without more ado and made off, leaving Master Bertie in possession of
the field. The whole thing had passed in the shadow of the wood in
less than half a minute. When I drew rein by him he was sheathing his
sword. "Is it Clarence?" I cried eagerly.
"No, no; I did not see him. I think not," he answered. He was
breathing hard and was very much excited. "They were poor swordsmen,
for Spaniards," he added--"very poor, I thought."
I jumped off my horse, and, kneeling beside the man, turned him over.
He was badly hurt, if not dying, cut across the neck. He looked hard
at him by such light as there was, and did not recognize him as one of
our assailants of the night before.
"I do not think he is a Spaniard," I said slowly. Then a certain
suspicion occurred to my mind, and I stooped lower over him.
"Not a Spaniard?" Master Bertie said stupidly. "How is that?"
Before I answered I raised the man in my arms, and, carrying him
carefully to the side of the road, set him with his back to a tree.
Then I got quickly on my horse. The women were just coming up. "Master
Bertie," I said in a low voice, as I looked this way and that to see
if the alarm had spread, "I am afraid there is a mistake. But say
nothing to them. It is one of the town-guard you have killed!"
"One of the town-guard!" he cried, a light bursting in on him, and
the reins dropping from his hand. "What shall we do? We are lost, man!"