IS SUFFICIENT IN THAT IT TELLS OF IDONIA
There was a press of people about the door as I went forth, which so
hindered my passage as Mr. Nelson, who had started up in alarm of my
sudden departure, caught me ere I had run a dozen paces, and would have
reasoned me into returning. But I would not be led thus nor listen
either, and so telling him 'twas a man I greatly desired to have speech
of that I followed, shook myself free, and jostled hardly through the
throng. To my joy I could yet see the tall figure of my unknown
adversary about a stone's cast ahead of me and walking swiftly. But
the main part of the shops being now closed, there was but scant light
to serve me in my chase, and more than once I feared I had lost him or
ever he got half-way to the new tower by the Bridge end. Nevertheless,
by that time I had arrived pretty near, and, indeed, soon trod so close
in his steps, that I could hear the jar of his hanger against the
buckle of his belt; but it being no part of my design to accost him in
so public a place, I fell back a little, and when he passed under the
bow of the gate-house, where a pair of great lanterns hung suspended, I
made as if to tighten a lace of my shoe, bending low, lest upon a
sudden return he should observe me; which, however, he did not, but
went straight forward. I had supposed it probable he would go off to
the left hand, that is, westward, towards Baynards Castle, wherein, as
I already knew, he had his lodging; and was greatly surprised,
therefore, when, a little way up the street, he turned sharply to the
right hand, behind St. Magnus' Church, where the street goes down very
steep, and is moreover ill paved and (at such an hour) exceeding
darksome. The gallant descended this hill at a great pace, while I for
my better concealment followed him somewhat more tardily as being
secure of his escape thence, where there was but a scantling of folk
about the lane from whom he was very easily to be distinguished, they
being ill-habited and of the common sort. In such manner we proceeded
a great way, passing in our course by two or three alleys that led down
to the Thames, of which I could perceive the gleam of the water, yet so
narrowly visible that the sight of it was as a blade of steel hung up
between the houses. All this quarter of the City I was perfectly
ignorant of, my knowledge being limited to such parts of it only as I
had traversed betwixt the Bridge and Fetter Lane, if I except
Serjeant's Inn in Fleet Street, which to my cost I had come to know
pretty well.
Whereto my exact intention reached, I should have found it difficult to
determine, but a settled hatred of the man possessed me, beside some
motions of fear (I confess now) that his continued espial had stirred
within me; and under the influence of fear, much more than of hatred,
we be ever apt to run into an excess of cruelty. Thus I remember well
enough the coolness with which I rehearsed my attack upon him, and the
considerations I maintained in my mind for and against the waylaying
him before he could stand upon his defence. Overrunning him with a
critical eye, I could not but admire his great stature and apparent
strength, to which I had to add a probable skill in fence, that I
lacked, having never been lessoned therein, though I had sometimes
played a heat or two with Simon, using a pair of old foils we found one
day in the stable loft at home. Notwithstanding, this defect weighed
nothing against my will, but rather exalted the desire I had to prove
my courage upon him, whose advantage was so every way manifest.
A great moon hung above the Thames, but obscured now and then by
wreaths of river mist that a light wind lifted the edge of, yet could
not sustain the bulk to drive it. There was no sound but that my enemy
made with his accoutrements; for I, lurking along in the black shadows,
made none, and the street was now everywhere void. All went pat to my
purpose, and I loosened my sword in its sheath. Then I crossed the
road.
But even as I did so, my man came to a sudden stand before an old and
very ruinous house, having a porch of stone, and within that a door
with a grid, whereon I presently heard him give a great sounding rap
with the pummel of his sword. And so unexpected was that act of his
(though why it surprised me I know not) that I stood quite still in the
full light, nor could for my life put into execution my policy that he
had thus distracted. The place wherein we had come I saw was near
under the Tower, of which I could, by the dim light, perceive the
undistinguished mass thwarting the bottom of the lane; and the house to
which the man demanded admittance was the last upon the left hand this
side the open space before the Tower. He remained some while, half hid
in the deepness of the gateway above which a lantern swung with a small
creaking noise; the light of it very dim and uncertain. After my first
arrestment of surprise, I had gone aside a little, yet not so far but I
could observe him, and the low oaken door at which he knocked. There
was something about this silent and decayed building which I liked not,
though I could not tell precisely wherefore; for indeed it showed signs
of some magnificence in the design of it, but now was all worn out by
neglect and foul usage; being turned over to the occasions of shipmen
and victuallers for storage of such things as their craft requires.
Thus, from a fair great window above, that I judged to have been
formerly the window of the hall or chapel, was now projected a sort of
spars and rough tackle, by which the slender mullion-shafts were all
thrust aside and broken. A high penthouse of timber with a crane
under, stood by the wall a little beyond, for the getting of goods in
and out, with other such disfigurements and mean devices of trade as a
mansion is wont to suffer that great folk have left, and small folk
have cheaply come by.
At length I saw the grid within the door to be slid back very warily,
and by a faint access of light perceived that the porter bore a taper,
as being unwilling to open to one he knew not, or could not see.
A conversation followed, but too low for me to hear it, though I
suspected from the manner of the man that he first besought, and after
demanded, admittance, which was still denied. Then he betook himself
(as I could tell) to threats, and was soon come to wresting at the bars
of the grid, like a madman. But that which sent me from my ambush was
a cry of terror from the other side of the gate at his so insolent
violence; for it was the cry of a girl.
I strode forward.
"Hold!" I said, mastering myself to speak within compass, and taking
the man by the sleeve with my right hand, while I kept my left upon my
poniard. "A guest that is not welcome should have the modesty to know
it."
He swung round with a great oath, and would have flung me off, had I
not gripped him pretty hard.
"Ay, is it thou?" said he, when he saw who held him, and I could swear
there was some respect in his way of saying it.
"I come to tell you that your barber hath left his shop in Fetter
Lane," said I.
He laughed aloud at that, high, and with a sort of scornful jollity,
though his narrow eyes never left my face.
"You are right, lad," he said heartily, "and I have sought him
everywhere since."
"Even upon London Bridge," said I, nodding.
"Even there," replied the dark man.
"I have myself some skill in that sort," I said, "so if the hour be not
too late for shaving we will get to business straightway."
"As you will," said he, indifferently. "But now, to leave this
schoolboy humour a little, and seeing I have no quarrel with you nor
yet know (as I told you before) your name even, were it not better you
should state your grievance against me if you have one, as I suppose
you deem yourself to stand upon some right in thus constraining me?"
The while he was speaking thus and in such easy parlance as I had
before noted was proper to him, my thoughts had returned to that girl's
cry I had heard behind the grid, and looking about swiftly, I saw the
gate itself now opened a small way, and the girl's form within the
opening in a posture of infinite eagerness. So taken with this sight
was I, that insensibly I slacked my hold of the man, who suddenly
withdrew his arm and stood away jeering.
"The door is open," I said, in a low voice, and putting my hand on my
sword; "wherefore do you not enter?"
"I will do so," said he, and before I could hinder him, he had swept me
aside with a great buffet, and run forward to the gate. Cursing my
lack of readiness to repel him, I drew at once and followed him, while
the maid, who at his approach had fled backward, pushed to the door;
yet not so quick--the hinges turning heavily--but he prevented her,
thrusting in his arm betwixt the post and the door, and had gained his
purpose easily, had not I sprung upon him from behind and so hindered
him that his hand was caught and crushed, ere he could release himself.
"I owe you small thanks for that, Mr. Denis," said he, gravely, when he
had flung the door open and got his hand free; and by his disdain of
continuing the pretence not to know my name, I saw we were come into
the lists as open foes.
"You owe somewhat elsewhere," said I, "and that is amends to this lady
for your discourtesy," and as I spoke I looked across to where she
stood in the hall, a distance off from us twain, by the foot of the
great stair. A light from some lamp, hung aloft out of sight, diffused
itself about her, so that she stood clear from the obscurity which
wrapped all else; and by that light I knew her for the maid I sought,
and would thank, and did already supremely love. The light falling
directly from above lay upon her hair and seemed to burn there, so
splendid a shining did it make. Of her face and body, the most of
which was dim in shadow, I could yet discern the exceeding grace and
lithe bearing. Her hands were outspread in terror for our clamorous
intrusion, and I thought by her swaying she was about to swoon. But
small leisure had I to proffer service, or indeed to do aught but
return to my guard, which I resumed none too soon, for the tall man had
drawn his great sword already and now caught up a piece of sailcloth
from the rummage about the hall, wrapping it about his injured arm.
"So it would seem you know her, too, Mr. Denis," he let slip in a voice
of some wonder, and I thought paused upon the question how we were
become acquainted.
"Have a care!" I cried, and so thrust at him without further parley.
He caught the blow easily enough on his blade, turning it aside.
"Country play!" he muttered, and was content to let me recover myself
ere he took me in hand. However, I had the good luck to drive him a
pace or two backward, amidst the stuff that lay there about, bales and
cordage and the like, which hampered him not a little, though for the
rest I could not touch him; whereas he did me whenever he listed, but
so far without great harm. Yet notwithstanding his disdainful
clemency, or rather because of it, I lost all sense of the odds we
matched at, and laid about me with increasing fury, so that, for all he
was so expert and cool a swordsman, I kept him continually busy at the
fence and sometimes put him to more art than he would have wished to
use, in order to defend himself from my assaults.
Now the hall where we fought thus, was, as I have said, full of all
sorts of impediments and ship's furniture, and was, besides, very low
and lighted by nothing but the gleam of the stair-lamp at the far end,
so that though we both lost advantage by these hindrances, yet his loss
was the greater; for with due light and space he could have ended when
he chose; but now was forced to expect until I should abate somewhat of
my persistence ere he did so; which, seeing I bled more than at first,
he no doubt looked for presently. And so indeed did I; but the
expectation seconded my little art in such sort that I broke down his
guard and, before I was aware, had caught him high up in the breast, by
the shoulder, and I could have laughed for pleasure as I felt the steel
sink in. Howbeit 'twas a flesh wound only, and thus no great matter,
as I knew; but it served to put him quite from his coolness, and as
well by his manner of fetching his breath, I could tell he was
distressed, as by his level brow that he meant to be rid of me. But
then--
"Oh, stay it here, gentlemen," cried the girl, who saw that we breathed
a space, though we still kept our points up and ready to be at it anew.
"If the watch pass now, you will be certainly apprehended as you go
forth. Have pity of each other," she said, and came forward almost
between us. "And you, sir" (to me), "if you do thus because he would
have entered here, I thank you. But now let him go, I pray you, as he
shall promise no further to offend."
You may imagine how this talk of my letting him go, who was a thousand
times the better swordsman, angered my antagonist.
"Ay, Mistress Avenon," he said, in that wicked, scorning voice he had,
"we shall stay it here surely to please you. But yet there be some
slight formalities accustomed to be used which must first be done; and
after I will go."
"What be those formalities you speak of?" she asked, with an apparent
gladness that the worst was past.
"Just that I must kill him," said the dark man, very quietly between
his teeth.
"Good mistress," I cried out, for I was persuaded he spake truth and
dreaded lest she should see what in pity of her womanhood I would
should be hid, "go aside now. Go to your chamber." But to the man I
whispered, "Come without into the street."
"There spoke a coward," was his word, and drawing back upon his ground
he swung up his sword arm to the height, and husbanding the weight of
his whole body, stood poised to cut me down. I saw the blow coming,
even in the dark, and despairing to avoid it, let drive right forward,
at the same moment muffling up my eyes in the sleeve of my idle arm,
for the terror of death was upon me then. Our swords sang.... But
even as I struck I knew that a miracle had been wrought, for his sword
never fell. Sick with amazement I opened my eyes, to see him go over
amongst the bales, where he sank down with a great sobbing cry. His
sword hung quivering from a rafter of the ceiling, which it had bitten
into by the blade's breadth. His tallness of stature, and hardly I,
had overthrown him and left me victor.
"God be praised!" I said very low, when I perceived and could believe
how matters had gone; but "God have mercy!" whispered the maid.
I turned about.
"You had best go, Mistress Avenon," I said. "The rest must be my work."
"You will not surrender yourself?" she asked, very white.
"If he be dead..." I began, but could not finish for trembling.
"He is not dead, I think," she interrupted hastily, and went back to
the stair, whence she soon returned with the lamp, which she set down
upon a hogshead, and then bent over the wounded man.
"A kerchief," she said, briefly, "a scarf; something linen if you have
it."
I tore off a strip from my sleeve and with that she staunched the
worst. We made a compress of my band, drenching it in cold water, and
for tightness buckled my belt upon it, which I gave her.
"There is burnt wine in yonder firkin," she said, and I fetched a
draught in the cup of my two hands.
When he sighed we looked at each other, and I said--
"Who is he?"
"It is Master Guido Malpas," she whispered, and added, "I am glad you
have not killed him."
But that speech went near spoiling all, seeing that I had gone into
that tourney her champion.
"Ay, there would have been another tale to tell," I returned very
bitterly, "had your rafters been set but a span higher."
"Oh, you mistake me, Mr. Denis (I think they call you so)," said she,
and bent low over the wounded man again. "I mean I am glad your
kindness to me hath not run so far as you must needs have wished to
recall it."
It is a maid's voice more than her words that comforts a man, and so,
scarce had she spoken but I saw I had misjudged her.
"Denis is my name," I said eagerly, "but tell me yours now."
"You have heard it, and used it too," she answered smiling. "'Tis
Avenon."
"Ay, but the other?" I cried.
She paused before she told me "Idonia."
"He loves you?" I said very quick, and nodded toward Malpas.
"He saith so."
"Doth he often trouble you thus?"
"I fear him," she said so low I could scarce hear her.
"But your father?" said I, "or your brothers? Have you none to protect
you?"
"My father was slain in a sea-battle long since," she told me, "when he
went in the _Three Half Moons_ with others that traded with the Seville
merchants, but falling in with a fleet of Turkey, they were nearly all
taken prisoners, but my father was killed."
"You were a child then?" I asked her, and she said she was but an
infant; and that her mother was long since dead also, and that she had
no brothers.
She seemed as though she were about to add more, but just then the sick
man revived, opening his eyes and gazing upon us as one that seemed to
consider how we twain should be together in such a place. I got up
from where I had been kneeling beside him and stood to stretch myself;
but was surprised to find how painful my own hurts were, which I had
almost forgotten to have received. I suppose Idonia saw me flinch, for
she suddenly cried out, "Mr. Denis, Mr. Denis, I will come to you," and
leaving Malpas where he lay, rose and came over to me, when she took me
very gently by the arm and made me sit, as indeed I needed little
persuasion to do. Howbeit I was (as I have said) scarcely scratched,
and should have felt foolish at the elaborate business she made of it,
had not her hair been so near to my lips.
But presently, and while we were thus employed, she with dressing my
hurts, and I with such and such affairs, Idonia whispered--
"Doth he know where you lodge?"
"Yes," said I, "he discovered the place to-night," and told her where
it was, and of the kindness Master Gregory had shown me.
"I knew not his name," she interrupted me hurriedly, while making
pretence to busy herself with the tightening a bandage, "nor of what
authority he were that took you from me when you were hurt before; but
he looked at me as at one that would not use you well, and in the end
spoke something roughly to me, so that I dared not follow you. Ah!
these upright staid men!" she added with a world of bitterness; but
then, "Now your lodging is known, you must leave it straightway, sir."
"I am not used to run away," said I, more coldly than I had meant to
do, and she said no more. When we looked up Malpas had gone.
We looked at each other without speaking for admiration of the strength
and secrecy he had shown in thus stealing off.
"I must go too," I said presently, and saw her eyes widen in dismay.
"Beware of him!" she whispered. "He doth not forget. And see! he hath
not neglected to take his sword;" as indeed, most marvellously, he had
done.
"Well, he serves an honest gentleman," quoth I carelessly, "so that if
I have cause to think he plots against my life, I shall lay my
complaint before my lord Pembroke."
But she shook her head as doubting the wisdom, or at least the
efficacy, of that, though she said nought either way, but led me soon
after to the great oaken door (which Malpas had left ajar when he went)
and set it wide. The night was very dark, with the moon now gone down
into the bank of cloud, and so still that we heard a sentinel challenge
one at the Bulwark Gate of the Tower. I thought too I heard the rattle
of an oar against the thole, as though a boat put off from the Galley
Quay a little below, but of that I was not sure.
"God keep you," I said to the maid; but when she did not answer me I
looked down and saw she was weeping.
When I went away, I heard the bolt shoot into its rusted socket, and
asked myself: how would my case stand now, had Idonia shot it, as she
essayed to do, at the first?