A strange journey it was. My comrade, for the most part, stalked
silently half a pace in front of me, sometimes, it seemed to me,
heedless of my presence, and sometimes as if troubled by it. Yet often
enough he brightened up, and began carolling some wild song; or else
darted off the road after a hare or other game which he rarely failed to
bring down with his arrow; or else rallied me for my silence, and bade
me talk to him.
At these times I asked him about his own country, and his father, and
then his face lit up. For though he had not seen either since he was a
child, it was clear he longed to be back.
"What prevents your returning now?" said I.
He looked at me in his strange wondering way.
"Know you not that McDonnell is an exile, and that the hated Sassenach
holds his castle?" demanded he.
I confessed I did not; for a London 'prentice hears little of the news
outside. Besides, though I durst not tell him as much, I did not know
who McDonnell, his father, might be; or what he meant by Sassenach.
"But he will feast in Dunluce once more," cried he, "and I shall be
there too. And the usurper woman Elizabeth shall--"
Here I sprang at him, and felled him to the ground!
The blood left my heart as I saw what I had done. As he lay there, I
could hardly believe it was I who had done it; for I loved him as my own
brother, and never more so than when he leapt to his feet, and with
white lips and heaving chest stood and faced me.
I was so sure he would fly at me, that I did not even wait for him to
begin, but flung myself blindly on him. But he only caught me by the
arm and shoulder, and flung me off with such strength that I reeled and
staggered for a dozen yards before I finally fell headlong with my face
in the dust.
Then he turned on his heel and walked on slowly.
It was no light thing, after that, to pick myself up and, spitting the
dust from my mouth, go after him. But I did. He never turned as I came
up behind, or heeded me till I stood before him and said:
"Sir Ludar, I smote you just now for speaking ill of my Queen. A man
who is disloyal to her is no friend of mine; therefore farewell."
He glanced me over, and his face had lost all its anger.
"She is no Queen of mine," said he. "I was born her enemy. For all
that, you did well to strike when I spoke ill of her. I would do as
much to you were you to speak evil of my Queen." And here he raised his
cap.
"Your Queen?" said I. "And who may she be? There is but one Queen in
these realms."
"I know it," said he. "Her I serve."
"Do you mean," said I, "that you serve--"
"Hush!" said he, with his hand at his belt. "I serve Queen Mary, and
all the saints in Heaven preserve her! Now, Humphrey Dexter, is it
peace or war?"
"I pray every day for the confusion of her Majesty's enemies."
"Why not?" said he, "so you pray not aloud. I do the same."
"Not so," said I, "or I should not have struck you. Nor shall it be
peace if you dare to breathe her Majesty's name again in my hearing."
"Heaven is my witness I have no wish to breathe it," said he, with a
curl of his lips. "Nor, if you breathe the name of mine, need you look
for so gentle a tumble as I dealt you just now. Come, your hand on it."
So we struck hands for the third time and went on.
My conscience troubled me sore the rest of that day. What had I come
to, to assort thus with a declared enemy of our gracious Queen, and,
more than that, to love him more every mile we walked? I could not help
it, as I said before. He was so unlike a common rebel, and so big in
his heart to every one and everything that claimed his aid.
Once that day, as we toiled along the hot road, we overtook a poor woman
carrying a bundle in one arm, while with the other she strove to help
along a little, footsore child, who whimpered and stumbled at every
step. Without a word, Sir Ludar took the child and bundle both from the
scared mother, who gave herself up for lost, until he asked her gently
whither she went, and might he help her so far with her burdens? Then
she wept, and led us a clean four miles off our road to her cottage,
where Sir Ludar put down the bundle and the now sleeping urchin and bade
her adieu before she could thank him.
Another time, as we were mounting a hill, we came up with a hay-cart
which the patient horse could scarcely drag. Whereupon he set-to to
push the cart behind, calling on me and the bewildered carter to do the
same, till we had fairly hoisted it to the crown of the hill.
Another time he fell foul of a parcel of gipsies who were ill-using an
old man of their tribe, and a lively fight we had of it, we two against
six of them, amongst whom was the old man himself. When at last we had
got rid of them I hoped that our adventures for the day were done, for I
was tired and wanted to rest my bones in a bed.
But as we passed through Reading the righteous soul of my comrade was
vexed by the sight of a boy sitting howling in the stocks.
"No doubt he deserves punishment," said I.
"Deserve or not, he has had enough, for me," said Ludar, and began
kicking away at the boards.
Of course there was a commotion at that, and the constable came to see
what the noise was about. Ludar desired nothing better, for he made the
fellow disgorge his key, which saved a vast power of kicking. Then,
when the boy was free and had darted off to the woods. Sir Ludar, with
a grim smile, locked up the beadle in his place, and flung the key into
the pond. Then as the watch and a posse of the townsfolk turned out to
see what the uproar was, we ran for it and got clear.
This last proceeding did not please me. For it was defying the Queen's
law, and as I said to my comrade, it was not for us to set ourselves up
against authority.
But Sir Ludar would listen to no reason.
"The lad was miserable where he was," said he.
"So is the beadle now," said I.
"The better the lesson for him," said Ludar.
There was no use arguing, so we trudged on some miles further till night
fell, and we took shelter again in a barn.
The next day, guiding ourselves chiefly by the river, we came to
Windsor, where I had much ado to hinder my comrade from going a-hunting
in her Majesty's forest. Had it not been that I persuaded him we might
almost reach Richmond that night, I think, for mere spite of the law, he
would have stayed.
As it fell out, we were far from reaching Richmond that night. For the
way was difficult with swamps and thickets, so that we were glad enough
to reach Chertsey by sundown. I was for spending what little remained
of my money at the inn, but this he would not hear of; so we took our
supper, and then, as the night was fine, slept in a field of hay. Sweet
lying it was too, and when early next day we plunged into the clear
river and refreshed out travel-stained limbs, we felt men again.
It was well on in the afternoon when we arrived at Richmond. We should
have been there sooner, but that my comrade was for ever calling a halt
or turning aside on some errand of chivalry. Mad enough I thought some
of them, but then he never asked me what I thought; and if ever I hung
back, he did what he needed without me. Yet whatever he did, it was to
help some one weaker than himself, and if my patience now and then
failed me, the honour I had for him grew, as I said, with every mile we
went.
I say it was afternoon when we reached Richmond. As we approached the
place my comrade's desire to see his guardian waxed cool, and he cast
about him for an excuse, if not to avoid going to the house, at least to
put it off till night. I proposed that we should rest ourselves under
the trees in the park, to which he agreed. But it was an unlucky move.
For we had not lain half an hour, enjoying the shade, and I half asleep,
when he started up with a "hist," and slipped an arrow into his bow.
At that moment a fine buck went by. He had not spied us while we lay
still, but the moment my comrade moved, he threw up his head and bounded
off. Yet not before a quick twang from Sir Ludar's bowstring had sent
an arrow into his quarter. "Are you mad?" cried I, in terror, "it is
the Queen's deer!"
"Follow! follow!" shouted Sir Ludar, who was every inch a sportsman.
I tried to hold him back, but he heeded me no more than had I been a
fly. With a loud whoop, he dashed away in pursuit. He had not gone
twenty yards from me, when there was a great shout and clatter of
horsemen, and before I well knew what had happened, I saw Sir Ludar
disarmed in the clutches of half a dozen men. I rushed to his help, but
could do nothing except share his fate. For they were too many for us,
and we had no time even to hit out.
"Where is the captain?" cried one of the men.
Just then up rode a man at sight of whom the blood tingled in all my
veins. I mean Captain Merriman.
I do not know if he recognised me at first, for he scarcely gave us a
look.
"Away with them to your master," said he, riding on, "and see they give
you not the slip."
So we were marched off, a pretty end to our jaunt. And to make our
plight worse, Sir Ludar whispered to me as we went along, "Unless I
mistake, the master of these men is my guardian, Sir William Carleton."
Sure enough it was.
The house we were conducted to stood in a large park with a view far
over the river, perhaps the fairest view in England. Yet I had no mind
just then to admire it; for the presence of that hated horseman made me
forget all except one fair face, which I seemed to see as I had seen it
that day at Finsbury Fields. He rode forward as we entered the park and
bade the men bring us safely in.
"Come, step out," said one of the men, giving me a flick with his
riding-whip, "we have been waiting for you these three weeks, my
gentlemen; and I promise you a warm welcome from his worship. The
captain, his visitor, will be in high favour, now that he has run the
vermin to earth--what say you, Hugh?"
"I warrant you that," said Hugh. "For our master had set his heart on
catching the vagabonds, and nothing could please him better."
"Heigho! It is we have had all the watching these weeks past; but this
gay spark will have all the glory now. Well, so the world goes. I
shall be glad to see him started on his Irish wars, for I like him not."
"Nor I--and yet we are not like to see the last of him soon, if the
rumour which my lady's maid hath whispered me, that some fair company is
expected shortly at the hall, be true."
The other laughed.
"No, truly, he is no proof against the flutter of a skirt, as some here
know. Did I tell you what befel him not long since in London town, at
the place where the 'prentice boys' sport? I had it from one of his own
men. But here we are at his worship's. You shall hear the story
another time, and I warrant you will crack your sides over it."
Sir William, being an old man and gouty to boot, saw his prisoners in
his own room, whither we were accordingly conducted. I had no chance to
get a word with my comrade, who, I noticed, kept his hand to his mouth,
and pulled his cap over his eyes--I suppose, to conceal himself from
those about the place who might know him. As for me, I had no desire to
hide myself from the only man there who knew me.
Sir William was a fine, red-faced, white-headed old gentleman, with
something of the old soldier in his air, and (when he came to speak), a
good deal of him in his words. He sat in a great chair, with one foot
swaddled on a stool before him; and the oaths with which he greeted each
twinge as it came, boded ill for us his prisoners.
He kept us waiting a long time at the dimly lit end of the hall, while
he spoke to his guest. At last he ordered us to be led forward. As we
advanced, and their eyes fell on us, each uttered an exclamation. I
kept my eye on Captain Merriman, and watched the storm that gathered on
his brow, and the crimson flush that sprung to his cheeks. It was plain
he knew me again, and I was content.
As for Sir Ludar, he stared listlessly at his guardian till it should
please his worship to speak.
His worship began with a string of oaths.
"Why, what means this, sirrah! How came _you_ here, you vagabond Irish
whelp, in this company? Speak, or by my beard, I'll--I'll--"
He did not say what he would do, for his foot gave him a twinge which
demanded of him every word he could spare.
"I have left Oxford, Sir Guardian," said Ludar, "I liked not the place,
or the ways of the place, or the Welshman, my keeper; and as for my
present company," said he, turning to me, "'tis good enough for me. It
was I shot the deer, not he; and so pray bid these fellows loose him."
At this the angry old soldier nearly went off in a fit. He flourished
his stick towards the offender, and even tried to rise from his chair, a
proceeding which brought on fresh pangs, and set him swearing hard for a
minute or more.
"How now! what, a murrain on you, puppy! Am I to be told my duty by a
raw-boned, ill-conditioned Irish gallowglass that I have fed at my table
and spent half my life in making a gentleman of? What do you think of
that, Sir Captain? How would you like to be saddled with a young wolf-
hound cub like that--Sorley Boy's son he is, no other, on my life--that
I was fool enough to take wardship of when he was a puling puppy and his
father an honest man? What do you think of that? Curse the whole tribe
of them, say I."
"By your leave, Sir William," said the captain in a smooth soft voice,
that made every hair on my body bristle, "good deeds have always their
reward; but as for the deer that was shot, your ward is generous enough
to shield the real offender at his own cost. I should be sorry indeed
had it been otherwise."
I could see the veins in my comrade's neck swell while this talk went
on. But he remained silent, while Sir William said:
"By my soul, it wants but to look at the varlet to see poacher written
in his face! And the Queen's deer too! Come, you men, which of you was
it caught the rogue?"
Here one of the men, seeing how the wind lay, swore before heaven that
he saw me shoot the deer, and took me red-handed, with my bow in my
hand. And when one sheep leads the way, the others follow. They all
swore it was I; while some added that my comrade lay asleep under a
tree, and knew nothing of the matter till I was captured.
Then Sir William grunted, and turned to his ward.
"'Tis well for you, sir puppy, these honest fellows give you the lie.
Had they done otherwise, I could have believed them; and I promise you,
ward and all as you are, I would have hanged thee for slaying the
Queen's deer, as surely as I will hang this cunning rogue here. Let the
boy go, men; and now you," said he, turning to me, "you ill-looking
hang-dog, you, say your prayers, for to-morrow you ride to the Assizes,
and then the Lord have mercy on thy black soul!"
It surprised me that Sir Ludar took his release quietly, and now stood
by with thunderous face, but apparently heedless of my sentence.
"Take him away there," said his worship, "and make him fast in the
cellar. These dogs are slippery vermin, so take care. When the rope is
round his neck he may wriggle to his heart's content. Come, be off with
him."
I looked at Ludar, but his back was turned. I looked at Captain
Merriman, and he was smiling to himself. I looked at his worship, and
he was swearing at his foot. So as all seemed against me, I turned
sadly enough and followed my guard to the dungeon. I cared little
enough what came to me. Ever since I set foot out of London things had
gone against me. I was steeped breast-high in disloyalty and
lawlessness; I had staked my peace of mind on a rebel, and now it seemed
even he had done with me. Yet I could not believe that. Had I done so,
I think I should have beaten out my brains upon the wall of that damp
cellar. As it was, I sat there, too bewildered to think. And so, for
lack of anything else to do, I fell asleep.
I know not how long I had slept, when I was aroused by a hand on my arm.
As I might have known, it was Ludar. He had a dish of venison pasty
and a flagon of wine in his hands, which he set before me, and in dumb
show bade me eat. I obeyed heartily, for I had not tasted food since
the morning. Then he took me by the hand, and led me in the darkness up
the steps and into the open air. Once clear of the house he broke
silence.
"Farewell," said he, "I may stay here. My guardian threatens to send me
back to Oxford in charge of a troop, but I think I shall stay here a
while."
"But," said I, "will you not get yourself into trouble over this?"
"Over what? your release?" said he, laughing, "I think not. The old
gentleman will rave somewhat at first, but when it comes to hanging me
or nobody, he will hold his peace. He cannot afford to see a ward of
his swing with his feet off the ground. Moreover, as soon as I can hear
news from the north, I shall go to find my father. So, farewell,
Humphrey. Expect me in London ere long, and forget not our oath."