AND THE GENTLEMAN PROVES HIMSELF A PLAYER.
"Let the world think me a bad counterfeit, if I cannot give him the slip
at an instant."--_Every Man in His Humor._
There was a moment's silence in the chamber. Then--
"Play-acting!" muttered Anthony, with a dark frown, followed by an
upturning of the eyes.
"Thou'lt pass, my son!" said the physician, his eyes alight with
approval and new-found hope. "Truly, I think he will, Sir
Valentine,--with a touch of the scissors to shape his beard more like!"
And he took up from the table a pair of scissors, doubtless used in
cutting bandages for the wounded man, and striding toward Master
Marryott, applied them with careful dexterity. "Behold," said he, when
he had finished. "Thou'lt surely fool them in the lanthorn's light and
the haste. By close work thou mightst truly lead them off in the night,
but in daylight the falseness of thy beard may easily be seen, for the
strings 'tis tied withal."
"But the officers shall not see my face after the starting. I'll not
stay near enough to them for that. 'Tis by word of innkeepers and
townspeople and country-folk, of my passage through the country, that I
shall be traced. And mark: save to officers that keep note of Catholics,
Sir Valentine is scarce known ten miles hence, so much hath he lived
abroad. And I'm not known out of London and Oxfordshire. So who's to set
the pursuers right?"
"But what then?" said the physician. "Those same innkeepers and such can
but report the passage of a man with a false beard, at best. More like,
they will cause thy detention as a questionable person, till the
council's men come up to thee. Either way, the pursuivant will see the
trick, and speed hotfoot back to this house."
"Why, look you," said Hal, "early in the morning I will hastily enter
some inn, my face muffled as for cold. There, in a private chamber, I
will take off the beard, and come forth as if I had but shaved. And so
report will remain of me, that I came bearded and departed shaven; and
the men in pursuit will take this very shaving as a means of disguise.
They'll be the more convinced I'm the man."
"Ay, but there you risk their losing trace of you; for the absence of
the beard will show your youth, and make you at odds with their
description of you."
"Why, the loss of a beard will sometimes give an elder man a look of
youth. And the same companion shall ride with me,--he that now keeps
watch without. By the description of him as my attendant, 'twill be
known I am the gentleman that rode from Fleetwood house. And to make my
trace the more certain, let a second accompany me,--one of Sir
Valentine's servants that live here constantly and are better known than
their master is. And he shall also guide me on the roads hereabouts, in
my first dash from the gates; for, look you, there will be fleet riding
for an hour or two!"
"Thou hearest, Sir Valentine," said the physician, turning to the
wounded gentleman.
"Ay," replied the knight, "and being weak of breath, have waited for a
breach to put my word in. 'Tis all madness, this ye talk of! E'en were't
possible. I should let no man risk life for me as this young gentleman
offereth. Why, lad, they'd catch thee, of a surety--"
"I make question of that, Sir Valentine," quoth Hal.
"Some time or other, they would," said the knight. "And thou knowest the
penalty of aiding the escape of one accused of treason! The act itself
is treason."
"And what if I have already incurred penalties as grievous, on mine own
account? And what if I have some running away to do, for myself? May not
one flight suffice for both? While I lead these men on a false chase
from thee, I but put distance 'twixt myself and danger," said Hal, with
less regard for truth than for leading Sir Valentine into his plans.
"What, Harry?" cried Sir Valentine. "Is it true? But still, thou'rt yet
in good way to make thine own escape. To wait for these officers, and to
keep them at thy tail, will doubly imperil thee. Thou shalt not multiply
thine own danger for me,--by Mary, thou shalt not!"
"But I mean not to be caught, Sir Valentine. Have I no skill, no
hardihood? Shall youth serve nothing, and strong arms, and hard legs? I
will elude them, I swear! But first I will keep them on my tail time
enough for thy removal. Ten days, the doctor said. An I lead off these
fellows a five days' ride from Fleetwood house, straight north toward
Scotland, and then drop them, 'twill take five days for them to ride
back. And there, of but five days' work on my part, come the ten days'
delay thou needest!"
"But thou canst not do it, Harry," persisted Sir Valentine, while the
physician silently paced the floor in thought, and the Puritan looked on
with outward indifference. "Why, bethink you! To escape thy pursuers,
and yet not to let them lose trace of thee; to outride them ever, yet
never ride too far away from them; to elude them, yet not to drop them;
this for five days, and then to break off the track and leave them
baffled, at the last! Tis impossible!"
"'Tis a glorious kind of sport, Sir Valentine!" cried Hal, his eyes
aglow. "'Tis a game worth playing! Nay, 'tis a stage play, wherein I
undertake to act the part of Sir Valentine Fleetwood in flight and
disguise! Ods-body, I shall prove I am a player! Thou shalt not refuse,
Sir Valentine! Do as thou wilt, I am for the gate, and when the officers
come up, the devil seize me an I do not lead them off again!"
"Sir Valentine doth not refuse," cried the physician, who had manifestly
made up his mind. "Thou need'st fresh horses? Anthony shall fetch them
to the gate. And one of Sir Valentine's known servants, to show the road
and leave the better trace? Anthony shall go. Continual residence here,
in his master's absence, hath made him as well known for Sir Valentine's
man as Sir Valentine is little known for Anthony's master. On your way
to the stable. Anthony, send Mary hither, and John. They shall help me
house Sir Valentine yonder, with store of food and drink. Straight north
toward Scotland, sayest thou, Master Marryott? The right road for thy
wild-goose chase. We shall do our part, my son. Only gain us the ten
days."
And the physician strode to the side of the chamber, put aside some
faded hangings, and began to loosen a section of the panelling.
Anthony, frowning haughtily at the physician's giving him orders, looked
inquiringly at Sir Valentine.
"But, my good father," began the knight, addressing the physician. Hal
shot a glance of discovery at the latter. My father! This "doctor" was a
doctor of other than the body, then! Hal had wondered to see a physician
of such mien and manner in this country place, and had thought he might
have been summoned from London. But now all was clear. He was a popish
priest, disguised in ordinary habit, to escape the severity of the
Elizabethan statutes; though, doubtless, he knew enough of surgery and
medicine for the treatment of Sir Valentine's wound.
"There is no time for talk, my son," said this doctor, interrupting Sir
Valentine. "Remember those in France. And let Anthony do as I said."
"Thou hast heard, Anthony," said the knight, compliantly, after a
moment's reflection. "Lead out the horses--"
"Three, Sir Valentine," put in Hal, to whom time was beginning to appear
extremely precious, "as Anthony is to go with us. I shall leave my two
for thy use."
"And take money, Anthony," went on Sir Valentine, while the priest
continued to open the way to the secret closet.
"I have money, sir," said Hal.
"But Anthony shall take some,--the half of what is in the chest,
Anthony. The rest will serve me to France, an this plan indeed be not
madness."
"You have sure ways of going to France, I doubt not," said Hal to Sir
Valentine.
"Ay," said the knight, with a smiling side glance at the busy priest,
"we have made that voyage when ports were e'en closer watched than now.
And hear this, Anthony, before you go,--Anthony will show thee, Harry,
how to make for France on thine own account, if indeed thou dost ride
free of these messengers. And he will tell thee where in Paris I am to
be found. When we meet there,--the saints intercede that we may!--I
shall have a way of thanking thee, perchance. Go, Anthony!"
The servant left the room, with a glumness belonging rather to a general
habit of surly disapproval than to any particular objection to the task
before him.
"This house and land," Sir Valentine went on, "will be confiscate, of
course, and myself outlawed. But thou see'st how this estate hath
fallen, Harry. I keep here but two servants besides Anthony, where once
I kept twenty. But in all these years I have built up some means of
living, across the narrow seas; and thou shalt not want in France.
Harry!"
"Think not of me, but of thyself, Sir Valentine. I'd best leave thee
now, and hasten Anthony with the horses. I can find him by his
lanthorn's light. We have lost much time."
But Sir Valentine would embrace him ere he left, as well as a man so
wounded might; and the knight, touched with gratitude, wept as the youth
bent over him. Hal then turned to take swift leave of the priest, who
had now caused a dark hole to gape in the wooden panelling. The latter,
at this, took up a cloak from a chair, detached Hal's own shorter cloak,
and put the other over the youth's shoulders, saying:
"'Tis Sir Valentine's own cloak, and more befitting the part thou hast
to play, Master Actor! Take my blessing, and the saints watch over
thee!"
With no more ado, Hal hastened from the room, and down to the hall,
where Anthony, bearing the lanthorn, was ordering the two other servants
to their master's chamber. Hal held his cloak over his face till they
were gone up the stairs; then he bade Anthony show him quickly to the
stables, adding:
"As for the money, if you must obey orders, you may get it while I am
saddling the horses."
The steward gave a grunt, and led the way out to the stables, where he
indicated the three best horses. He then returned to the house, leaving
the lanthorn; but presently reappeared, in time to help Hal with the
horses, and to receive at the same time the player's explicit directions
for the conduct of matters on the arrival of the officers.
The two men then led the horses to the front gate, where Anthony tied a
pair of them, that he might take Hal's London horse to the stable.
Master Marryott mounted and rode toward the village to acquaint Captain
Bottle with what was to be done. On perceiving Kit's stalwart figure,
black against the dim night, Hal called out to him to follow back to the
mansion. While the two were covering the distance thereto, Hal briefly
put the soldier in possession of what it was needful for the latter to
know. Anthony had now returned from the stable, and the lanthorn
revealed Hal's transformation, which the captain viewed with critical
approval while transferring himself from his tired horse to one of the
fresh ones.
"And the Puritan rides with us?" queried Bottle, while Anthony was gone
with the second horse to the stable. "Sad company, sad company! An the
dull rogue sermon me upon the sins of the flesh, I'll knock in his teeth
to shut up his throat withal! Well, well! This mixing in matters of
state maketh strange bedfellows. I mind me once--lend ear. Hal! Hoofs
yonder, or I'm an owl else!"
Hal listened. Yes, horses were crossing the wooden bridge of the brook
on the Londonward side of the village.
"Should these be the men?" whispered Hal in a low voice. "They come
slowly."
"Who else should be on the road at this hour?" replied Kit. "They know
not any reason for haste."
"A red murrain on that Puritan, then!" said Hal. "What holds him so long
at the stable? All is lost, without his lanthorn. I'll ride in and fetch
him."
"Nay, they must use time enough in coming hither. Hark! They have halted
in the village. Mayhap they must needs ask the way to Fleetwood house."
"'Tis well, then. They will learn of Sir Valentine's hurt."
There was then a very trying time of silence and waiting, during which
Hal's heart beat somewhat as it had beaten in the tiring-room before the
performance of "Hamlet."
"Hear them again," he said at last, through his teeth. "And that rascal
Puritan--"
"Save thy breath! Here he comes."
Anthony indeed now appeared with the light, crossing the yard with
longer strides than he had previously taken; he, too, had heard the
approaching horses.
"Into thy saddle, dog!" muttered Hal. "And a plague on thee for thy
slowness! Now do as I bid, or I'll give thee a bellyful of steel!"
The steward having got on horseback, Hal led the way back into the yard.
The three then wheeled about, and stood just within the now wide-open
gate. Anthony at Hal's right and bearing the lanthorn in his left hand,
Kit at Hal's left. Hal measured with his ears the constantly decreasing
distance of the hoof-beats on the hard road, as they advanced at a
steady walking pace. Through the silence came the sound of a far-off
clock striking eight, and then of the approaching horsemen talking to
one another in low tones.
At last Hal said, "Now!" and rode forth into the road, which was here of
exceptional width. The three, riding abreast, turned toward London, as
if intending to ride southward. Had they continued, they would soon have
met the approaching horsemen face to face. But suddenly Hal, as if he
now for the first time discovered the presence of newcomers, stopped
short, as did also his two attendants. Anthony, in pretence of enabling
the make-believe Sir Valentine to perceive who the horsemen were, held
the lanthorn up, a little to the right and rear of Hal's body, so that
it revealed his attitude and left his face in shadow. Leaning forward,
as in pain, yet with head stiffly set, shoulders forced back, hat low on
brow, left elbow thrust out, and beard well outlined against the light,
Hal peered anxiously into the gloom. Out of that gloom there came, after
a startled exclamation and a hush of low voices, the clear greeting:
"Give you good even, Sir Valentine!"
Hal uttered a swift order to his men. Anthony instantly wheeled around,
to take the lead, and rode northward. Hal did likewise, and was
immediately followed by Captain Bottle. As soon as Hal made sure that
Kit had turned, he called to the steward ahead to make speed; and a
moment later the three were galloping over the frozen road at the
devil's gait.
"Halt! In the queen's name!" rang out of the darkness behind, in the
voice that had been heard before.
"Go to hell, Roger Barnet!" shouted back Kit Bottle, to Hal's
astonishment.
"You know him?" queried Hal, as the horses flew onward.
"Yes, and a taker of traitors he is, sure enough!" growled Kit through
the night. "A very hell-hound, at a man's heels! Hear him cursing, back
yonder, for his pistol will not go off! They have whipped up; the whole
pack is on the scent!"
"Good!" cried Hal. "Sir Valentine and the priest will have plain
sailing. The chase is begun, old Kit! Five days of this, and the hounds
must neither lose nor catch us! Ods-body, the Puritan's lanthorn is out!
I hope he knows the road in the dark!"