THE MAJOR COMES TO A RESOLUTION
Colonel Lord George Cleeve sat perched astride a chair on the desk in
the corner and watched where the Major and Sergeant Zebedee fronted
each other for their wonted morning's fencing-bout:
"You'll find me a little sluggish as 'twere after last night, Zeb,"
said the Major, taking his ground.
"Why there have been other nights, sir, and I never found you so yet,"
answered the Sergeant, as, returning the Major's salute, he came to his
guard, and, with a tinkle and clash of steel, they engaged, the Major,
light-poised and graceful, the Sergeant balanced upon stockinged feet,
cunning, swift and throbbing with vigorous strength. Now as their play
became closer it seemed that the weapons were part of themselves, this
darting, twining steel seemed instinct with life and foreknowledge as
lightning thrust was met by lightning parry; while the Colonel, craning
forward in his chair, cursed rapturously under his breath, snorted and
wriggled ecstatic. It was a long, close rally ending in a sudden
grinding flurry of pliant blades followed by a swift and deadly lunge
from the Sergeant met by an almost miraculous riposte, and he stepped
back to shake his head and smile; while the Colonel slapped his thigh
and roared for pure joy of it.
"Sir," said the Sergeant, "'tis me is sluggish it seems! Clean through
my sword-arm!"
"Faith, Zeb, I saw it coming in time."
"Joy!" cried the Colonel, sprinkling himself copiously with snuff, "O
man Jack 'tis a delight t' the eye, a balm t' the soul, a comfort t'
the heart! Rabbit me, Jack, Sergeant Zeb is improved out o' knowledge."
"Aye, George, Zeb is an apt pupil. Come again, Sergeant."
At this moment the door opened and the Viscount lounged in, but seeing
what was toward, seated himself on a corner of the desk as the foils
rang together again. Before the next venue was decided the Colonel was
on his legs with excitement and the Viscount's languor was forgotten
quite, for, despite their buttoned foils, they fought with a grim yet
joyous ferocity, as if death itself had hung upon the issue. Their
blades whirled and clashed, or grinding lightly together seemed to feel
out and sense each other's attack; followed cunning feints, vicious
thrust or lunge and dexterous parry until, at last, the Major stepped
back and lowered his point:
"'Tis your hit, Zeb--here on my wrist!"
"Why 'twas scarce a hit, your honour."
"Most palpable, Zeb!"
"Gad love me!" murmured the Viscount, "and they don't sweat and they
ain't panting!"
"Music!" snorted the Colonel, bestriding his chair again, "poetry,
pictures--bah! Here you have 'em all together! A fine 'ooman's a
graceful sight I'll allow, but sirs, for beauty and music, poetry and
grace all in one, give me a couple o' well-matched small-sworders!"
"Parfectly, sir!" bowed the Viscount. "Though, nunky, if I may venture
the remark and with all the deference in the world, your play is
perhaps a trifle austere--lacking those small elegancies and delicate
refinements----"
The Colonel rolled truculent eye and sprinkled himself with snuff again.
"Master Tom sir--Pancras my lud," said the Sergeant, "I were thinking
p'r'aps you'd play this third venue with his honour?"
"Gad, nunky, 'twould be a joy," murmured the Viscount. So saying he
took the Sergeant's foil. "You'll mind sir, how you disarmed me last
time----"
"'Twas but a trick, Tom, and you were all unsuspecting."
"At least, sir, this time I shall play more cautious." And the
Viscount saluted and fell to his guard, one white hand fanning the air
daintily aloft. The foils crossed and, as the bout progressed, the
Viscount's self-assurance grew, he even pressed the Major repeatedly
and twice forced him to break ground; time and again his point missed
by inches while the Sergeant watched between a smile and a frown and
the Colonel wriggled on his chair again:
"Faith!" cried he, as the foils were lowered by common consent. "The
lad hath a wrist, Jack, and a quick eye for distance--he should make a
fencer one o' these days--with pains----"
"Gad so, sir!" exclaimed the Viscount, a little huffed, "I rejoice to
know it!"
"And though his point wavers out o' the line like a straw i' the wind
and his parade is curst inviting and open, still----"
"Let me perish, what d'ye mean, my lord?"
"Come again, Tom and I'll show you!" said the Major.
"Those are fairly large buttons on your waistcoat. I'll take the top
four. On guard, Tom!"
Again the foils met and almost immediately the Major's blade leapt and
the Sergeant counted "One--two!" The Viscount broke ground, then
lunged in turn and the Sergeant counted again, "Three--four!" The
Viscount stepped back, pitched his foil into a corner and stared at the
Major in rueful amaze, whereupon Lord Cleeve laughed, and, clambering
from the table, clapped him on the shoulder:
"Never be discouraged, Viscount," said he, "never be peevish, sir, in
your place I should ha' fared little better. Few may cope with d'Arcy
o' the Buffs--or Sergeant Zebedee for that matter!"
"Gad love me sir," answered the Viscount smiling, "'twould seem so."
"And now, man Jack, I'm for Sevenoaks on small matter o' business,
moreover 'tis like my lady Carlyon will be thereabouts and young
Marchdale promised to make me known to 'Our Admirable Betty.' Will ye
ride with me, Jack?"
"Why thank'ee George, no--there's my chapter on the Defects of Salient
Angles d'ye see, for one thing----"
"Devil burn your salient angles!"
"But here's Tom now. Tom might join you," suggested the Major with a
meaning glance at his nephew.
"'Twould be a joy, sir!" murmured the Viscount dutifully.
"Why then I'll go get into my boots," nodded the Colonel and strode
from the room.
"Nunky," said the Viscount, rearranging his cravat before the mirror
with scrupulous care, "there are soldiers at Sevenoaks and the man they
seek lieth hid--next door, if I mistake not!"
"Art sure, Pancras?"
"I spoke with Charles himself a while since, and my lady Belinda saw
the soldiers to-day. Question, what's to do, sir?"
"'Tis a problem, nephew, and one requiring a nice judgment. Let me
think! Sergeant, I'll thank you for my Ramillie coat. And she hath
him hid?" enquired the Major, getting into the garment in question.
"Under lock and key, nunky. Charles would have been away ere this for
her sake, but she'd locked him in. You see he is still scarce
recovered of his wound and hardships, and Betty is determined to keep
him till he be quite strong again."
"To be sure!" nodded the Major, fingering the tarnished buttons of his
old campaigning coat. "And she locked him in--'twas like her! As for
the soldiers, Tom, having traced him so far, they will be here next
'tis sure and her house will be searched first, of course."
"Gad sir!" exclaimed the Viscount, striding to and fro in sudden
perturbation. "You take it devilish calm and serene! If they search
there they'll find him beyond doubt----"
"Not so, Tom, I'll see to that."
"You sir--how?"
"He shall come here."
"Here nunky--here in this house--with Colonel Cleeve your guest?"
"Precisely, Tom--I must hide him under old George's honest nose. 'Tis
irregular, as 'twere--aye, 'tis vastly irregular, and yet----" Here
there rose a distant roaring, a hoarse and intermittent clamour.
"Gad love us!" exclaimed the Viscount, starting, "what's here?"
"'Tis only George roaring for thee, Tom."
"And the horses are at the door, my lud!" added the Sergeant, glancing
from the window.
"So begone, Tom and----"
"No no, sir, I'll stay and aid you with----"
"Nay, look'ee Tom, you ride to Sevenoaks with George. You learn
precisely when the soldiers march for Westerham and, if need be, you
make your excuses and ride back to warn me of their coming. Your
dapple-grey is the fastest thing on four legs and--ah, George--I do but
stay my nephew to give him certain commissions and, as I was saying,
his big dapple-grey is the fastest----"
"Ha--rot me, Viscount, we'll see that--we'll see that!" nodded the
Colonel pulling on his gauntlets. "Now, if you're ready, sir?"
"Quite, my lord, quite!" smiled the Viscount, and, taking hat, gloves
and whip from Sergeant Zebedee, he bowed and followed the Colonel out.
Thereafter rose the clatter of their horse-hoofs which died rapidly
away until they were lost altogether.
"Zeb," said the Major, sinking heavily into his chair and leaning head
on hand, "Sergeant Zebedee, I go about to do a thing I never thought to
do. We fought and bled for England and Queen Anne Zeb, you and I, and
after for King William and then for King George, and now, it seems, I
must forget my loyalty for the sake of a youth I've never seen, a
Jacobite fugitive, Zeb, whose life is held forfeit--but, he is the
brother of one--one I hold--very dear, Zeb. And for her sake I am
about to be false to the oath I swore as an officer, I am about to give
aid and shelter to an enemy of my king. This is a grief to me, Zeb, a
great grief, since honour was very dear to me, but she--is dearer
still! So shall I do this thing gladly--aye, even though it lose me
all as well as honour--even life itself because 'tis for--her." Here
the Major paused to sigh and the Sergeant finding nothing to say,
saluted. "But as for you yourself, Zeb, all these long, hard years
you've served faithfully and kept your record clean, and God forbid I
should smirch it. So, Zebedee, you will take a week's leave--you will
get you to London or----"
"Which, saving your presence, can't nowise be, your honour!" answered
the Sergeant. "King George is very well and I say, God bless same.
But then King George and me don't chance t' have fought for England
together side by side, nor yet have saved each other's life, sir--very
good! But, says I, in action or out, wheres'ever you've led I've
folleyed most determined, and I'm too old to change my tactics, sir.
So, your honour, I'm with you in this, in that, or in t'other,
heretofore, now and hereafter, so be it, amen!" Having said which, the
Sergeant saluted again and stood at ease.
"You risk your neck, Zeb!"
"I've risked every member I possess afore now, like your honour."
"I mean there is a danger that----"
"Dangers has been our daily meat and drink, sir, and perils our
portion. Consequently if dangers and perils should threaten your
honour 'tis only nat'ral I should share same, besides 'tis become a
matter o' dooty wi' me, d'ye see, sir?"
"Zeb," said the Major, rising, "Zebedee--ha--Sergeant Tring, give me
your hand! And now," he continued, as their hands gripped and fell
apart, "bring me my hat and cane, Zeb, I'll to my lady." These being
produced, the Major clapped on laced hat, took ebony cane in hand and
crossed to the door; but there the Sergeant stayed him:
"Sir," said he in gentle remonstrance, "you'll never go in your old
coat?
"And wherefore not, Zeb?"
"'Tis not in keeping wi' your brave new hat, your honour!"
"Maybe not, Zeb," sighed the Major, "but then 'tis in most excellent
keeping with my--my limp, d'ye see. So let be, Zeb, let be!"
And so the Major went forth upon his errand and, being a little
perturbed as to his possible reception, fell to planning himself a line
of conduct for the forthcoming interview and forming stern resolutions
that should govern him throughout. Thus, as he walked, head a-droop
and deep-plunged in thought, his limp was rather more pronounced than
usual.