CHAPTER XIII
IN BORROWED PLUMES
At first Merrylips could only laugh and cry and repeat her brother's name, while all the time she clung tight to him. It seemed too good to be true that Munn had really come at last! If once she let go of him, she feared that he would vanish, as the shapes of her dear ones had so many times vanished in her homesick dreams.
Little by little she grew sure that the figures on which she looked were real. The horses that drooped their heads to crop the brown grass were real. The big trooper, who held their bridles with one hand, was real, and in his face, which was all one broad grin, she recognized the features of that same Stephen Plasket, the serving-man who had gone with her when she went walking in London. From him she turned to Herbert Lowry, who stood scared and shaking, with his arm in Stephen's grasp, and she found him so real that she knew this was no dream.
Then she looked up again, at the sunburnt young face under the plumed hat, that bent above her. She was certain now that it was indeed Munn, in flesh and blood. So she kept back the tears of which he would not approve.
"And what's the news from Walsover?" she begged, as soon as she could speak. "Oh, tell me how it is with daddy and with my godmother!"
Very hastily Munn told her all that she wished to know. First he told how Lady Sybil had come safe to Walsover with her jewels, which had long since been spent in the king's service. After that Lady Sybil had gone a long journey into France, to beg some of the great folk in those parts, whom she had known in her girlhood, to send aid to the cause she served. For a time also she had been in the king's camp at Oxford, but now she had come back to Walsover.
Then he went on to tell how Lady Venner and Puss and Pug were full of cares, for Walsover had been fortified and garrisoned. Besides, many cousins and kinsfolk had come there for shelter, so the great house was full to overflowing.
Of more interest to Merrylips, he said that their father, Sir Thomas, was in command of a troop of horse, with headquarters at Walsover. Longkin, who was now a tall gallant with mustaches, was a lieutenant under him, and Flip hoped soon to be an officer. But at present Flip was thought too young to hold a commission, and so he had to stay, much against his will, and mind his book at Walsover.
For his own part, Munn ended, he had got him a cornetcy in the horse-troop of Lord Eversfield, the father of one of his schoolfellows. Just now he was serving under one Captain Norris, at a fortified house called Monksfield, in the rape of Arundel.
While Munn was speaking, he kept glancing up and down the bridle-path, and when Merrylips noticed this, she cut him short.
"Leave the rest!" she said. "Thou'lt have time enough to tell it me on our way. And now let us be off quickly, lest we be stayed."
At that Herbert lifted his voice.
"Don't you dare to go with these vile knaves!" he shrilled. "My mother will be angered. Don't you dare!"
Merrylips laughed and turned her back on him. Then she saw that Munn stood biting his lip, with his eyes upon the ground, and she stopped laughing.
"Munn!" she gasped. "But surely thou art come to fetch me? Thou wilt never think to go and leave me here behind?"
With a gesture that she remembered, Munn took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair.
"Look 'ee, Merrylips," said he, "I was i' the wrong, belike, to come hither at all. 'Twas that I was sent from Monksfield with others of our troop to gather cattle and provender for our garrison. We seized this morn upon the village of Storringham, a league or so to the west of here. And Lieutenant Crashaw who commandeth our party bade me ride forward with a trusty man, to spy out the country. And so I shaped our course toward Larkland, on the chance that I might see thee, honey, or get news of thee, for I was fain to know how thou wert faring."
"Yes, yes!" said Merrylips. "But now that thou hast found me, Munn, dear, what shall hinder me to go away with thee?"
Munn shook his head.
"How can I take thee, Merrylips? I tell thee, I am in garrison, in a house where no women dwell, among men ruder than any thou hast ever dreamed on, or should dream on, little maid. Our captain indeed hath straitly charged us to bring thither no women of our kindred, nor young children. For the life in garrison is rough and hard, and more, we are in daily peril of assault from our enemies. Thou seest well, thou canst not come with me. Thou must be content to stay at Larkland, where thou art safe from danger."
"But I do not fear danger!" cried Merrylips, flinging back her head.
Then once more she clung to Munn, and begged and pleaded as never before in her little life.
"Oh, Munn! Sweetest brother! Thou canst not have the heart to leave me, when I have waited long. And 'tis so hateful at Larkland, with Mistress Lowry ever chiding and lessoning me, and Mr. Lowry, he cometh almost never among us now. And they say that daddy and thou and Longkin are evil men, and that I must hate the king—"
"Say they so?" growled Stephen, the trooper. "Quiet, ye rebel imp!"
As he said that, he shook Herbert, though Herbert had not so much as stirred.
"And," Merrylips hurried on, "they say when I am older, I must wed Herbert Lowry yonder."
Then it was Munn's turn to break into words.
"Now renounce my soul!" he cried, and flushed to the hair, and then grew white under his coat of tan. "So that's Will Lowry's bent—to mate my sister with his ill-conditioned brat! Upon my conscience, Merrylips, I be half minded—"
She held her breath, waiting to hear him bid her scramble on his horse's back. But after a moment he shook his head.
"Nay, it must not be," he said sadly. "Monksfield is no place to which to bring a girl child. Ah, Merrylips, if thou wert but a young boy!"
Merrylips clenched her hands. She was fairly trembling with a great idea that had come to her. When she tried to speak, she almost stammered.
"Munn! Dearest Munn! Why should I not go as a boy—as thy little brother? Oh, I'll bear me like a boy! I'll never cry nor fret nor be weary. Oh, do but try me, Munn! Best brother! Sweetest brother! Let me go with thee as a little boy!"
"Thou lookest a boy," said Munn, and tried to smile, as he pointed at her petticoat. "What of clothes?"
"Faith, sir," cried Stephen, "if the little mistress be stayed for naught but a doublet and a pair of breeches, here they be, ready to hand!"
As he spoke, the trooper began to unfasten Herbert's ruddy brown doublet, and at that Herbert screamed:—
"Do thou but wait! 'Tis thou shalt pay for this, Sybil Venner, when my mother cometh to hear on it!"
"Be quiet!" bade Munn, in a stern voice. "And you, Stephen Plasket, hold your hand. Let me think!"
He stood in the bridle-path, with his brows knit and his lips stiffened, while he tried to see his way clear, this young officer, who himself was after all no more than a boy. He knew that Monksfield was no place for Merrylips. He knew that he would disobey his captain's orders, if he should take a little girl thither.
Yet he dreaded to leave her behind at Larkland. Not only did he hate to disappoint her so cruelly, but he was angry at the mere hint of her being brought up to make Herbert Lowry a wife. Besides he was afraid, hearing Herbert's outcry, that if she were left behind, she might be punished only for thinking to escape.
In short, Munn felt that he could not leave his sister at Larkland. But at the same time he knew that he could not take her, as a girl, to Monksfield.
In this dilemma he began to turn over her childish proposal that she should go with him disguised as a boy. He felt almost sure that he should be allowed to bring a young lad into the garrison for a few days. Within those few days he hoped to find means to send Merrylips on to Walsover, before any one could discover that she was no boy, but a little girl.
He knew that this was a risky undertaking, and he knew that the burden of it would fall upon the child, but he thought that he could trust her. He noted how straight and vigorous was her slim young figure, how brown and healthy her color, how brave her carriage. She had always been a boyish little girl, and in her boyishness he now placed his hope.
From Merrylips Munn turned to that pallid and ill-favored Herbert, who was squirming in Stephen's grip. Suddenly all that in Munn which was still a schoolboy thought it a rare jest to put Herbert into petticoats, where he belonged, and set brave little Merrylips, for once, in the breeches that all her life she had longed to wear. So good a jest it was, that he thought, for the jest's sake, he might win forgiveness even from his captain, if he should be found out.
Carried away by the fun of it, he turned to Merrylips, and his eyes were dancing.
"Run thou behind yonder thick holly bush," he spoke the words that bound him to this plan. "Off with thy gown and fling it forth to me. Thou shalt speedily have other gear to replace it."
Before he had done speaking, Merrylips was screened behind the holly bush, and with fingers that shook was casting off her bodice and her petticoat. As she did so, she heard an angry cry from Herbert.
"I'll tell my mother! I'll tell my—"
There the cry changed, and from the sounds that went with it she knew that at last Herbert was getting, from Stephen Plasket, the whipping that for months he had so sorely needed.
A moment later a little ruddy brown bundle came tumbling over the holly bush, and Merrylips, in all haste, turned herself into a boy. She kept her own worsted stockings and stout country-made shoes. Over her own plain little smock she drew the ruddy brown breeches, which she gartered trimly at the knee, and the ruddy brown doublet, with the slashed sleeves and the pretty buttons of gilt. She unbound the lace that tied her hair and shook her flyaway mop about her face. Her hair was so curly that it had never grown long enough to fall below her shoulders, and that was a very fit length for a little Cavalier. She tied Herbert's white collar round her neck. Last of all she set Herbert's felt hat upon her head, and then she was ready.
But she did not feel at all as she had thought she should feel. Instead of feeling bold and manly, she was suddenly afraid lest, in spite of the clothes, she should not be boy enough to please Munn. So great was her fear that she stood shrinking behind the holly bush till she heard Munn call, a little impatiently. Then she crept out, with her head hanging.
Munn looked at her, and gave a whistle between his teeth—a whistle of dismay. He had thought her a boyish little girl, but he saw her now a very girlish little boy. He doubted if, when they came to Monksfield, he could keep up for one moment the deception that he had planned. But come what might, he knew that he had now gone too far to draw back. After the rough way in which he had let Master Herbert be used, he dared not leave his little sister in the hands of Herbert's kin.
"Into the saddle with thee!" he bade more cheerily than he felt.
He had to help Merrylips to his horse's back. When he had vaulted into the saddle behind her and put his arm about her, he felt that she was quivering with excitement and nervousness. He called himself a fool to have ventured on such a hare-brained prank.
But just then Stephen, who all this time had held Herbert silent with a hand upon his mouth, let go of him in order that he might mount his horse. And straightway up jumped Herbert, right by Munn's stirrup, half in and half out of Merrylips' gown, with his face all smeared with tears.
"Oh, thou Sybil Venner!" he wailed. "I'll tell my mother! I'll—"
Then Merrylips threw back her head and laughed, with the color bright in her cheeks once more.
"See how thou dost like it thyself to walk in petticoats!" she cried. "Go tell thy mother—tell her what thou wilt. Thou canst tell her I'm off to the wars to fight for the king."
"Well said!" laughed Munn, as he gathered up the reins. "Upon my word, I believe that after all thou'lt do thy part fairly, Merrylips, my little new brother!"