Therewas a familiar rattling of chains and sliding bolts. The door swung cautiously inward, the evil face of Zenas appearing within the narrow opening.
"Ah! The puppet again!" he exclaimed, his baleful eyes glowering down upon the traveler. "And where hast thou left Sir James, my good brother?"
"He was foiled in making his escape with me from Castle Yewe," explained Sir Richard. "Are there messages awaiting me from Bishop Kennedy?" he added.
"Nay. But tarry not without, sir puppet knight. The sharp wind doth penetrate keenly to my twisted bones. Come thou inside, ... I'll have a groom to bestow thy horse for the night."
"Get you out of the cold and send him here. I but wish the animal baited, Zenas. I'll not tarry the night."
In a few minutes the hostler appeared from behind the tavern, received instructions as to the care of the horse, and relieved the young knight of the reins; Sir Richard then opened the door and stepped inside.
"Ah ha! with a golden patch upon the eye, by my faith!" growled the hunchback as the young knight seated himself upon the high-backed bench beside the chimney-place. "Methinks, sir puppet knight, that I've often seen that self same color."
Zenas stationed himself with his back to the blaze, where he stood, rubbing his hands together and laughing shrilly.
"You have seen it. Certes you have seen it!" observed Sir Richard quietly. "Yea—Zenas, and I mean to bear away the maiden to whom it once belonged, I give you true warrant upon that."
He arose as he spoke, with his hand resting menacingly upon the hilt of his sword.
Without a word Zenas thereupon clapped together his hands; three men, armed at every point, came instantly into the room. Three blades were unsheathed, flashing in the firelight.
"Not so fast, puppet knight; ... I pray you, not so fast," whispered the hunchback withan uncanny leer and stretching out toward Sir Richard his enormously long arms. "Wilt treat with me quietly now, or shall I have the guards at you for a dangerous interloper? Say the word, sir puppet knight, say the word," he hissed between his teeth. "More good men there are where these came from, an these be not enough to truss thee up and render thee harmless."
"Send the men away," said Sir Richard sullenly. "I'll treat with you."
"Tell me then," resumed Zenas, when the guards had betaken themselves at his command through the door, "hast ever seen this maid whom thou art thus eager to rescue?"
The young knight pondered deeply before committing himself to an answer. It would be obviously improper, he thought, to explain the manner in which the cutting of velvet had come into his possession. But he concluded that a portion of the truth would answer as well as a whole falsehood,so——
"In truth, I have never seen the maid," he replied accordingly.
"Well, thou shalt see her.... Yea—and thou shalt have her! Even this night, ...now, ... an it be thy wish, sir puppet knight," said Zenas, apparently in a transport of glee. "She hath been fair eating her heart out to be gone. But mayhap thou wouldst first down a flitch of bacon and a tankard or so of stum? A full belly for a hard task, I tell thee! Belike 'twould embolden thee for the work in hand."
"Nor sup nor drink will I taste till I have the maiden beside me," Sir Richard declared.
"Wait, ... I'll fetch her to thee," Zenas said, and thereupon went out of the room, muttering and laughing.
The young knight could hear his catlike footfalls, then, go limping up the stairs. Apprehending upon a sudden that the dwarf might be meditating some act of violence or harm, Sir Richard rushed to the door through which Zenas had made his exit. "Thy life, sir, shall answer for her safety," he shouted from the foot of the steps.
"Fear not, Sir Richard Daredevil," the hunchback called back from the landing above. "Fear not, I'll bring her to thee all safe enough."
Zenas's undisguised willingness to relinquish the maiden into his hands was very puzzling toSir Richard. Though this perplexity presently gave way to a sense of delightful anticipation. At last, he mused, he was to see her; to hold her hand; to listen to the sweet accents of her voice. He could not control himself in quiet, and went to pacing to and fro across the floor in a fever of impatience.
Above stairs a scene was being enacted that, could he have been witness to it, would have proved highly interesting to the young knight. The half-maniacal hunchback respected and admired his brother, Sir James; he loved his brother's sweet daughter, Rocelia, but he feared and hated Isabel, whom he had never been able to intimidate or make to do his bidding. The maid was indeed possessed of a breezy temper, and upon many an occasion the hunchback had been made to feel the sting of her words. When he had discovered that she was secretly preparing for her departure, he had at once embraced the opportunity to avenge himself, causing her to be imprisoned in earnest. He had overheard her conversation with an emissary of the Renegade Duke, during which Isabel had given her word that she would come to Castle Yewe to join herchampion. Isabel had a mind of her own, and a keen appreciation of the welfare of number one. She was, besides, a capital conspiratress, and had availed herself of every chance to acquaint herself with the true character and title of the one whom she had chosen for her champion. When she had grown familiar with Sir Richard's history, she had concluded that through him she might achieve deliverance from her monotonous life under the guardianship of her uncle, Sir James, and at the same time elevate herself to a higher plane within the social world, which were her chief ambitions. She had not been acute enough, however, to be aware that, in promising to go to Yewe, she was but falling into a trap set for her by the Renegade Duke. She still believed that the word was from the Earl of Warwick, by which title she always referred to Sir Richard within her mind.
The blaze of anger with which Isabel now greeted Zenas's advent into her presence subsided quickly when he told her who was waiting to see her below. She made short work of her preparations to depart, promising to do so secretly, and without stopping to bid her cousin or governess a farewell. As the hunchback was precedingher below he was exulting to himself over the circumstance that was to rid him of one of whom he was jealous and hated, and another whom he feared. He looked upon it as a happy stroke of fortune that had put it in his way to send them off together. He chuckled aloud as he thought of how cleverly he was cheating the young knight.
"I am yielding him the wrong maid," he said to himself; "the wrong maid. The saffron gown doth belong to Rocelia, by my faith!"
It seemed an age to Sir Richard before he heard again the hunchback's tread upon the stairs. Another step came to his straining ears, light and firm, with an accompaniment of gently rustling skirts.
What would his first words be? And what her whispered answer? He thought of the saffron patch above his eye and the unkempt growth of beard upon his chin. For but two minutes' service, a barber might have earned a handful of rose nobles.
Thereupon the door swung open. Without any apparent hesitation the maid, whom the young knight had always pictured as shy andprettily diffident, advanced into the ring of firelight. Like an abashed boy, he hung his head in an utter confusion. If a fortune had been laid at his feet he would have found himself powerless to look up into her waiting eyes. It seemed to him that the whole world should be pausing to view this meeting. Then his hands were caught within the grasp of soft fingers. "Richard, ... my faithful champion," a voice broke low upon the dead silence.
Sir Richard then looked up. His eyes fell upon a pair of firm, curved lips, a row of dazzling white teeth, a wonderful quantity of raven-black hair, shadowing beautifully marked brows and masterful, deep-gray eyes. His sight was too blurred to see altogether clearly, but he knew her to be comely and bewitching withal.
In despite of this, a sort of vague but exquisite melancholy fell upon his highly wrought spirits. It was as indefinable as a fevered dream, but it seemed to him to answer to the name of disappointment. He felt that he would have been more pleased had the maid displayed in her manner less of assurance and more of timidity and reserve.
Isabel began by busily removing the patch from Sir Richard's eye, assuring him of her genuine appreciation of his knightly conduct in so long having worn it. He did not tell her that it had been there but a day. Then, commanding Zenas to bring food and wine, which he did without a word of remonstrance, she set the table and bade Sir Richard to eat. When the hunchback went out of the room he told her of his meeting with the Douglas foot-boys.
"I divined that they were waiting," Isabel said. "But Zenas locked and barred the door and would not suffer me to come. It was full kind of you to send for me, Sir Richard."
"I? But 'twas not I who sent for thee, fair maid."
"Not you? There was a note signed with your name."
"'Twas written by Douglas, or the Renegade Duke then. An I could, I would have sent for thee, though——"
"Isabel, Sir Richard; ... call me Isabel. 'Twas then but a trap to lure me within the power of the Duke. Well—we'll attend to him, once we come to Castle Yewe, Sir Richard."
"To Castle Yewe? It is the one place on earth from which I would remain away. We'll go not to Castle Yewe, Isabel," Sir Richard declared.
"But has not Douglas a plan on foot to set you high in power? And has not my uncle gone to him to effect a truce and a combining of forces? In truth, Sir Richard, will you go to Yewe?" Isabel insisted.
"I know not what plans they may have," said Sir Richard. "But, an there be such, it is all the more reason why I should get me safely away. I am come to detest this conspiracy business."
"Well—we'll have that out on the way," observed Isabel. "Come, let us be upon our journey before the band returns to thwart our going."
They accordingly set out soon, with the moon low and exceedingly bright upon the far horizon. Zenas had improvised a kind of pillion behind the young knight's saddle, and upon this Isabel took her seat.
"I wish thee a great joy of thy bargain, sir puppet knight!" the hunchback shouted shrilly after them as they started off. "And believe me," he added, "I am well and truly requited for the death of poor Demon."
"He would not dare to say thus, an I were but off this horse," declared Isabel angrily.
Sir Richard could not divine what the hunchback had meant to convey. He, therefore, made no reply, but looked back and remarked his squat, bent figure standing free upon the nethermost point of the brae against the moonlit sky. He reminded the young knight of a monstrous, black, and forbidding spider.
Not till they had reached within the cavernous depths of the forest did it occur to Sir Richard that he now had before him a long and hazardous journey to the coast, with, for companion, a maiden whom he had torn from the care of her lawful guardian. But he had pledged his knightly word, and apparently there was nothing now to do above seeking a priest, and carrying her with him as Mistress Rohan. He quarreled and fell out with himself because of his dearth of enthusiasm over the project.
"Richard, dear?" Isabel interrupted his thoughts, "is it not nearabouts that the Douglas foot-boys are posted?"
"Yea—in a glade upon our right hand. About here, I fancy," Sir Richard answered.
"Then stop instantly and summon them to us."
"Indeed, nay!" Sir Richard amazedly exclaimed. "I'm not again for running my head into a hornet's nest," he said, by way of borrowing de Claverlok's simile. "But," an inspiration dawning upon him, "do you wish to leave me and go on to Castle Yewe?"
"Without you—Richard?"
The manner of her reply sent a cold sweat to oozing at his every pore. He felt himself caught fair.
"Ho, boys!" Isabel suddenly shouted aloud, clapping her hands. "Draw rein, Richard," she commanded.
"Well, by the mass!" the young knight exclaimed. But he drew rein.
There was a great noise of stumbling horses, and the sharp crackling of breaking twigs, as the foot-boys hurriedly drew toward the road. When they had observed the young knight's companion, they were the most relieved and happy of youths. They immediately set about making Isabel comfortable upon the back of the housed palfrey, after which the march was begun, with the foot-boys singing merrily on before.
Harold rode back presently to announce that he knew of a cave something less than a league ahead where they could be rendered comfortable for the night. Both Thomas and he would do their best, the youth assured Sir Richard in extravagant terms, to have them a fresh hare, a crisp loaf of bread, and a sufficiency of sweet goat's milk wherewith to break their fasts in the morning. Already, the young knight thought, their journey was beginning to assume somewhat of the complexion of a wedding tour.
They then directed their course toward the cave; and by an ingenious arrangement of the tent, which Harold and Thomas were carrying with them, they contrived for Isabel a comfortable and perfectly secluded chamber within its depths.
While the foot-boys were engaged in building a roaring fire just outside the cavern's broad mouth, Isabel sat upon a boulder and engaged Sir Richard in an entertaining and animated conversation. It was the first opportunity he had enjoyed since their meeting of having a quiet look at her. As she talked, the young knight noted with a certain satisfaction the ever-changing expressionof her fair and mobile countenance as the filmy veils of light and shadow played across it. "Certes," he yielded to himself, "she is beautiful. But 'tis beauty, methinks, of a rather dangerous and sirenlike kind."
When she was near ready to retire behind the curtain she held up a foot abounding in dainty, graceful curves.
"Unfasten me my boot, sir champion," she said archly.
They were alone, the foot-boys having disappeared within the forest to gather a fresh supply of hemlock twigs.
"Give thee a right good-night, Richard," said Isabel sweetly, when the boots were undone. She was becoming of a ravishing loveliness in the weird light of the flickering fire.
Sir Richard was blind to everything at that moment, saving his companion's captivating grace.
"Often have I bethought me of that kiss which you sped me through the wall," said he, catching and holding her hand. "No wall is there here now but one of darkness, ... and we are within."
She cast him one bewitching glance, raising herhand to his waiting lips. "Not till we are come within sight of Castle Yewe," said Isabel. "Then, brave champion of a maiden in distress, you shall have earned it."
Sir Richard realized all too soon, however, that his had been but a transitory fascination. The moment that Isabel was swallowed within the cave he felt the spell leaving him. So when Harold and Thomas returned with their burdens of fuel, he told them in a purposely lifted voice that he would help them to gather more. He laid down the law before the meek foot-boys once he had enticed them beyond earshot of the cave. They were free to give the lady safe conduct into Yewe, Sir Richard told them, but he was to make choice of the way. A signal for the right, one for the left, and another to indicate straight ahead he gave them. Beside every forking road or path they were instructed to seek his secret and peremptory command.
"Remember, boys, Sandufferin!" he added, by way of a parting shot. "And have a care that you fall not foul of old fox here," he concluded, tapping the hilt of his sword.
"Said I not 'twas the same that cut him downthe great Sandufferin?" Sir Richard heard one of the foot-boys whisper, as he was falling into a pleasant forgetfulness of his many troubles beside the crackling blaze.
Agreeable with their sworn promises, the faithful foot-boys contrived to set before Sir Richard and Isabel an appetizing and ample meal. Somewhere within the forest they had come upon a spring, and had filled a deep hollow in the rocks with limpid water. Accordingly, when Isabel sat down to breakfast, she was looking as fresh and sparkling as any of the frost-covered fir trees growing round about.
All of that day they pushed steadily forward, halting but once to sup and drink within a herdsman's cottage. When the evening had fallen they were among the upland hills, and had journeyed a full two leagues beyond the Back Friar's Monastery.
They found shelter for that night in a wayside peasant's hut. Here Sir Richard enjoyed a long talk with Isabel, sitting alone with her by the chimney-side. He tried to win from her an elucidation of the mystery of the moving tavern, but she refused to gratify his curiosity. Whenevershe chanced to discover that Sir Richard desired particularly a certain favor, always she would say, "Not till we are come within sight of Castle Yewe, ... then you shall have earned it."
She was leading the young knight a merry dance, with her "Richard, fetch me this," and "Richard, dear, fetch me that"; her "Are you certain that this is the nearest path to Castle Yewe?" When the young knight would grow sullen and demur against returning there, "How absurd of you, my brave champion," Isabel would say, "to set yourself against those whose only desire it is to put you where you rightfully belong!"
Scarcely an hour passed without seeing its quarrel between them, which inevitably ended by her riding close alongside her companion, taking his hand and wheedling him, willy-nilly, into the best of good humors. Her wonderful eyes during one moment would be flashing cold steel, and in the next would radiate the warmth and glory of a tropic sun. Isabel was, indeed, a most extraordinary young woman.
Within his mind Sir Richard had made a completesurrender to her continued importunings. He was staking his last hope of liberation from his uncomfortable, and that which he considered dangerous, position upon the slight chance of finding de Claverlok in the deserted hut. "An the good fellow happens not to be there," he thought, "why—I'll fare on and discover me the things that Lord Douglas has in waiting."
Sir Richard's system of secret signals to the foot-boys worked admirably, and quite as well as he could wish. By giving them the proper signs he was enabled to follow the path along which the Renegade Duke and he had so furiously ridden. He even remarked the patch of broken gorse and brambles that plainly marked his fall.
It was upon the afternoon of the third day of their journey that they turned into the sandy highway where the young knight had momentarily outwitted his pursuer. He recalled to his mind the image of de Claverlok's rugged, honest face set fantastically against the moon, as he had seen it upon that memorable night. Sir Richard was obliged to confess that his hope of discovering him at their appointed rendezvouswas sinking in proportion with the nearness of his approach thereto.
At length, as they rode free of the forest through which a part of the road lay, he made out the little hut standing close beside a down something near a quarter of a league distant. There was a monk, on foot, moving in their direction along the highway. As the churchman drew nearer, Sir Richard noted that he was tallying his string of black beads and muttering over his open breviary.
Isabel, just then, rode close to his saddle.
"Richard," said she, "here now is our good priest."
The maiden had left Sir Richard in no possible doubt of her meaning.
A thought came to him, though it was not a happy one, for nothing, now, he fancied, could ever more be happy. Carrying out the thought, however, he called to the monk to halt and attend upon his words.
"Canst thou go with us, good father, into yonder hut?" he said. "We would have thy service at a simple service of wedding. See, ... my witnesses are riding hither, ...and I have papers bearing upon my knightly reputation."
"Right willingly would I do thee a service, sir knight, but not in that hut there," replied the monk, looking up at his questioner with eyes distended with fear. "I am but now come from there, ... the good Lord forgive him!"
"Forgive who? What is 't, goodman?" cried Sir Richard.
"There abides a great giant there.... Indeed, a tremendous man, ... ill with some diresome fever, or fiendish obsession. He made threat to slay me, an I but dared set foot within, bellowing fierce oaths the while from his pallet of rushes. He will die; ... yea, he will die, for he had the white drawn look of death upon his bearded face. I shrove him from the doorway—then came away. The Lord have mercy——"
He got no further with the sentence within Sir Richard's hearing. Ignoring the road, the young knight went galloping in mighty bounds away over the gorse-grown meadow.
Itwas not above a few swift winks of the eye till Sir Richard had flung himself from off the back of his frothing stallion and was within the hut's door.
"Dick!" exclaimed its solitary occupant, rising upon a lean elbow. "I'm damned, an it be not yourself, ... eh?" Then, sternly, as the young knight made toward the pallet of rushes whereupon he was outstretched: "Betake you out of this accursed place," he shouted. "Do you want to get you the sweating sickness?"
"An it had been the sweating sickness," said Sir Richard, advancing to the sick warrior's side and grasping his woefully thin hand, "I'd have found nothing here beyond a moldering corpse. This four years, de Claverlok, has the sweating sickness slept. 'Tis but some devastating fever brought with you from out of the dungeon inCastle Yewe. You'll get you well, man, I know it."
"Meseems I know it, too, Sir Dick," agreed the grizzled warrior weakly. "By the mass, 'tis the very first day I've had the courage to swear, ... eh! And a good monk for auditor, too. The Christian fellow shrove me through yon open door. A murrain upon you, Dick! and how is 't you're here? And after cutting me some ten stone of stout rope in my eye, ... Ingrate!"
After this good-natured outburst de Claverlok threw himself back upon the rush-mat, breathing heavily. Noting that his pallor had somewhat increased, Sir Richard begged him to remain quiet, the while he would recount his adventures since parting from him upon the runway of the tower. "God's sake! but there's a woman for you, ... a king-maker, Dick," he made a muttered comment, when the young knight gave him the story of Lady Anna. He went on with his tale, and had just come to that part of it where he had stumbled so unexpectedly upon the Red Tavern,when——
"Richard!" a firm and musical voice called from outside; and then again, "Richard!"
"Wait. 'Tis the maid herself," said the young knight, going obediently to the door.
"My dearest friend on earth is in that hut, Isabel," he said, stepping to the side of her palfrey; "and sick well nigh to death. 'Twill be my duty and pleasure to remain by his side. When I have nursed him back to health, I shall be free. Until then, you must consent to await me in Castle Yewe. 'Tis not far, Isabel. But over the hills, there. You'll do this thing for me?"
"And a right pretty nurse you'd make," observed Isabel breezily, slipping at once from off the round back of her palfrey. "Why, Richard, my generous boy," said she, "you have sore trouble in looking after your own tangled affairs. An he be your friend, right gladly will I attend to the nursing of him myself. Happily, some experience have I had of such matters."
Then, in her usual masterful way, she bade the foot-boys strip the bags off her horse and started for the hut door. With more of admiration for the maid than Sir Richard had felt since their meeting, he followed her brisk steps through the door.
After that there was nothing left for him todo but run upon errands. It would be—"Richard, do you do so?" and "Richard, do you do thus?" "Richard, ride you to the nearest goodwife and fetch me a gourd of goat's milk," or a measure of stum, or whatever other toothsome thing it chanced to be. Sir Richard was soon thinking that his friend's lean body must have grown to be a receptacle for all of the dainties from the multitude of hills about them. Almost every hour of the day he might have been seen careering over their round summits.
The clever foot-boys made over the lean-to into a quite habitable dwelling, thatching its sides and top with dried grass from off the meadow. Within its shelter Sir Richard and Harold and Thomas ate, slept, and loitered away the time.
There was a quaint old Scots herdsman who used often to visit them, bringing with him upon every such occasion his bagpipes, whereupon he could play with an uncommon deftness. It was this same simple, good-hearted herdsman who had looked in on de Claverlok twice or three times every day while the warrior was alone during the interval of his sickness. Sir Richardtried in many ways to make him the richer, or rather the less poor, because of the timely succor he had brought his friend, but the old herdsman would have none of the young knight's nobles.
It seemed curious to Sir Richard that, among the countless gruesome legends and wild tales that Kimbuchie had ever ready at his tongue's end, there was the same one of the Red Tavern that he had heard so often repeated whilst riding with Belwiggar along the Sauchieburn Pass. Good Tammas would not have it that twice the young knight had been beneath its roof, and was yet there before him to tell the tale. "Awell, lad," he would say, "awell. I ken well thou'st a muckle lang tongue betwixt thy teeth, ... a muckle lang tongue."
Following the first two or three days of their arrival, there remained but little for Sir Richard to do within the sick knight's quarters. Isabel had both a keen eye and a right willing hand. By stretching the tent cloth across one side of the room she secured to herself a fair sized retiring room of her own. She appeared to take a positive delight in the task of transformingthe rude and not over clean interior of the hut into a place that was neat, cozy, and altogether inviting.
Sir Richard began to wonder why, in such a pleasing environment, de Claverlok was not making a more rapid progress toward health. They had been there now nearly a fortnight, and he appeared to have gained but little, if anything, in the way of weight or strength. Indeed, after the first day or two the sick knight had fallen into an unusual and melancholy silence. Often Sir Richard would steal a glance at him through the window, and always he would see him idly plucking at his coverings, the while his big, hollow eyes would be bent upon every movement of his fair nurse.
"Richard!" Isabel called to him one morning while he was having breakfast in the lean-to. It was just past dawn, with the sun painting a rose-glory above the eastern hills. When the young knight went to her she was standing just outside the closed door of the hut. He remarked to himself how pale seemed her face in despite of the sun's warm reflection upon it.
"What is it, Isabel?" he inquired, feeling avague apprehension as to the welfare of his friend.
"'Tis this, Richard," said Isabel gravely, "one of the foot-boys must you post me on to Bannockburn. Counsel him to bring instantly a leech, ... the best in the town. I would e'en send you, but you may be needed here."
"I pray you, Isabel, tell me not that he is worse."
"I fear me.... Ah! Much I fear me that you are soon to lose your friend," Isabel answered drearily.
In all haste Sir Richard filled Harold's wallet with coins and sent him clipping above the hills toward Bannockburn, whereupon he sat down upon a boulder, yielding himself to the gloomiest of reflections. He was staring, with chin buried deep in his hands, along the winding roadway. Upon a sudden, looming gaunt against the sky, he saw the familiar figure of the knight in black riding slowly over the hills. Hurrying to the opposite side of the hut, Sir Richard stood outside the window and signed Isabel to come out.
"Make haste; what is it? Your friend has butthis moment begged to speak with you in private," said she, when she had joined the young knight outside.
"Tyrrell is approaching in this direction," said Sir Richard. "I saw him but now riding over the northern hill."
"Give thanks to God!" exclaimed Isabel with an earnest and deep fervor, clasping tightly together her white hands.
"Why, because that you shall now be discovered?"
"Nay; what care I for that, ... now! But because yonder tyrant," she hurriedly went on, leading Sir Richard to the side of the cabin whence Tyrrell could be seen, "is a cunning chymist, a famous physician, ... a student of Linacre. Go, join your friend, ... but have a care, excite him not. I'll await my uncle here."
For days Sir Richard had noted a change in Isabel's manner. Bit by bit she seemed to have grown more grave and thoughtful, and less breezily abrupt in her way of speaking. He had remarked the humility with which she obeyed de Claverlok's slightest wish. Upon this morningshe had displayed a depth of feeling of which he had considered her quite incapable. In seeking out the reason as he was making his way into the hut, the answer dawned suddenly upon him. He understood.
"Well, my good friend de Claverlok," said he, with an attempt to be cheerful, as he came beside the sick man's bed. "Methought that by now you would be on horse and a-tilting."
"Hark thee, Dick," de Claverlok whispered. "I'll be a-tilting with the devil by to-morrow, ... eh!" whereupon he smiled, a wan, brave smile. Then, looking soberly up into the young knight's eyes—"Dick, ... friend, ... I have a confession to make ere I lay down my last lance," he said. "God's sake! To think that I should play the fool at my age, ... two score and four, come the seventeenth day of next month—" he paused for a space, drooping his dimmed eyes. "But to my confession: I meant no harm, ... God wot, my boy, and I intended not to do it, Dick; ... but I loved the maid with whom your troth is plighted from the moment her dainty foot stepped across yon sill.... I ask your forgiveness——"
"De Claverlok, ... dear old friend, ... are you serious?"
"Serious, ... eh?"
"God of my fathers! Do you mean it?" Sir Richard fervently exclaimed. "An this be imperiling your precious life, take her, man, and let health return upon you."
Thereupon the grizzled knight discovered a strength wherewith to frown.
"'Tis most unseemly this, ... most unseemly, ... eh! And you, Dick, with your troth but fresh——"
"De Claverlok," interrupted Sir Richard firmly, "no promises have passed. She thinks me but a silly youth—which is true.... I am. Isabel cares not a fig for me, nor, by my faith, do I for her! We shall never wed. Get you back inside your coat of mail and make her happy, for she loves you, my friend. I read it in her sad eyes but this moment gone."
"Say you truly, Dick? God's sake, boy, you—you, ... but when I get me inside my harness I'll have a lance at you, Dick, for saying somewhat against her."
Sir Richard pressed then the fevered handthat the sick man tried to lift within his. Whereupon de Claverlok smiled, and, sighing happily, seemed to fall into a deep and peaceful sleep.
When the young knight stepped lightly through the door he saw Tyrrell seated upon his horse, with Isabel pleading at his stirrup for him to dismount and wait upon the sick man.
"Attend upon my words, Sir Richard Rohan," Tyrrell said as the young knight drew beside them. "This ungrateful maid, having withdrawn herself by stealth from beneath the shelter of my roof, now desires me to succor a knight of whom she is enamored. Let her first take solemn oath, in thy presence, that she will not journey inside of Castle Yewe. Nor shall she, an she be carried there by force, make known my plans to Douglas. As to her inheritance: I have it safe invested, and will yield her warrant to have it delivered into her hands either in Glasgow or in London. Art thou witness to this?"
"Yea, Sir James, I am."
"Isabel Savoy," resumed Tyrrell, "do thou lift up thy right hand to Heaven and swear?"
She looked at the two men with big eyes,proudly, her lips firmly set. It was as though the victory was hers. She took the oath.
"And now, a word with thee, Sir Richard," grim Tyrrell said, turning toward the young knight. "The man stricken within is thy dearest friend, I have been told. Mayhap I can save him to thee; mayhap not. Everything of skill that I possess shall be used in his behalf, an thou wilt agree upon thy knightly word to return with me anon to the Red Tavern and listen there to some things that I have to say. Thy honest word, ... 'twill be sufficient?"
"I give it willingly," Sir Richard said.
"Then assist me to dismount.... I'm sorry, sore, and lame. Friend Douglas, suspecting something of my conniving at thy escape, Sir Richard, gave me a bit taste of the torture. Whereupon, learning nothing from my sealed lips, apologized, and set me free. He would have done for me for all, an he dared. Beshrew me, though, an I can see how thou art still abroad, with all of the Douglas forces searching so diligently for thee. Thy proximity to his citadel it must have been that hath saved thee."
Sir Richard remarked that he was looking exceedinglypale, seeming old and decrepit when compared with his sturdy appearance upon the day that he had shattered lances with him in the lists. The young knight helped him to dismount and led him, cursing at every step, to the door of the hut.
"I should have known," Tyrrell said to Sir Richard, upon joining him in the thatched lean-to about an hour later, "that faithful de Claverlok would be somewhere in thy vicinity. Prithee, and how is 't? Tell me, Sir Richard?"
"Suffer me first to hear news of my friend," said the young knight. "Thinkest thou that he will make a return to his old good health?"
"Methinks he is sore in love with the maiden, Isabel," Tyrrell answered, nodding his head and smiling grimly. "Well—'tis a most powerful stimulating nostrum. An I miss not my guess, he'll get him well."
Thereupon, with a right good heart, Sir Richard recounted to Tyrrell the story of his travels with de Claverlok.
"And dost tell me that he has been all of these days in thy company without divulging word of our plans, or of thy part therein?"
"Not one word—his knightly vow withheld his honest tongue. But I am certes ready to hear them now," declared Sir Richard.
"God wot, but there's a man to maintain his knightly vow! Though 'twould have been better had he broken faith and told thee of some things. So thou art ready to listen now, Sir Richard? Well, there's a good reason for thy desire to become acquainted with these mysterious haps. But, have patience yet a little time. Everything shalt thou know when we return to the tavern; ... everything, Sir Richard."
After that he sat for a long space, smiling, rubbing his hands together, and muttering to himself. Upon returning to himself, he commanded the foot-boy, Thomas, to bring him his saddle-bags. Taking from them many packages, herbs and powders, he called Isabel to him and instructed her as to the manner in which they should be administered. When he was done, she signed Sir Richard with her eyes to follow her outside.
"He will soon be well, Richard," she said, taking the young knight's hand. "And now, boy, you are free—and happy, too, I make no doubt.Ah! What hosts of enemies have my sharp tongue made for me! But I'll curb it now, Richard—I've found its master," she added, laughing lightly, and thereupon went tripping through the cabin door.
WhenSir Richard came again into the outer hut Tyrrell was setting a pot to boil upon the fire. As he bent above the red blaze, dropping pinches of various herbs within the kettle the while he peered closely, from time to time, into the open pages of a book lying beside him upon a stool, he minded the young knight of a black wizard, engaged in weaving some unholy incantation.
"Bear me company over the hills, Sir Richard," he said presently, setting the now steaming pot upon the ground. "We must procure us another herb to complete the nostrum. I' faith, and what a smell is here!" he added, taking up a staff and starting, lame and halting, for the door. "But 'tis as efficacious to the body, withal, as the odor is displeasing to the nostrils."
Sir Richard noted Tyrrell's strange demeanor as they moved slowly from hillock to hillock. When his keen eyes were not bent upon the earth, they would be regarding him with an intent and somewhat of an inquiring glance.
Times he would kick aside a plant, stoop with a painful deliberation, and convey a fragment of its root or leaf to his lips. If it happened to be of the kind of which he was in search, he would unearth it with the point of his mailed foot and continue upon his way. Though by now he was carrying a considerable quantity of the herbs, he was making no move to return. Several times he appeared upon the point of speaking, but always his glance would fall swiftly from that of his companion and engage the ground at his feet. In this silent manner they drew, at length, within the shadows of the wood.
"A strange foreboding of some direful happening doth rest heavily upon my mind," he said then. "Our grasp on life is indeed a slender thing, and easily broken. Mayhap 'twould be the better part of wisdom to say some things to thee here ... and now." He paused, measuring the young knight carefully with his eye.
"Dost know, Sir Richard," he said then, after somewhat of an impulsive manner, as he went stirring about with his staff among the fallen leaves, "that in history I shall ever be written down as a base and cowardly murderer? Thou hast belike heard the dismal story of the boy princes in the Tower?"
"In very truth, I have," Sir Richard made answer.
"'Tis known of the whole world, I doubt not," he gloomily pursued. "And yet ... and yet, I was but plotting ... plotting deeply, daringly ... to save their precious lives. Hark ye, Sir Richard ... and mark thee well that which I am about to say. An it were not for a fiendish knave, called Forrest,—upon whom God's direst curse rest!—they had been both saved to England.
"Forrest, learning of the command laid upon me by King Richard foully to murder both his nephews whilst they did sleep, procured quittance of the keys from Brakenbury and smothered the younger prince before I rushed, with Dighton, my groom, into the Tower room. Commanding my faithful servant to put pillow lightly abovethe mouth of the living prince, the Duke of York, I bade Forrest instantly to carry tidings of their death to the bloodless rooting hog, who was gnawing his nails and awaiting news in the palace. With Forrest safe dispatched to the King, we hastily garbed the prince in kirtles, thus giving him the semblance of a young maid. My men were waiting by the side of the Tower gate ... they brought him safe to Scotland."
"But——"
"Nay ... prithee, listen!" he said, seating himself upon a lightning-riven log, whilst Sir Richard took stand against its splintered, upright trunk. "The royal youth was fair-haired, pale and sickly. All my cunning arts were impotent to stay the implacable hand of death. Thus, Sir Knight, did the young Duke pass into oblivion ... beneath my very roof, and here in bleak Scotland. I durst not even acclaim his passing; but laid him, then, within an unmarked, though not an unmourned, grave. Slowly, stealthily, but surely, I had been massing a power behind him that would have swept him straight upon England's throne. Upon either coast, Sir Richard, this power is still augmenting. Shipsspeed me soldiers from France and Spain upon the east, and from Holland and Italy upon the west." He paused for a space, then,—"Dost find my tale interesting?" he asked.
"Above any I have ever heard," Sir Richard told him.
"And what wouldst thou say," he resumed, raising his hand impressively, "an I swore to thee that I had found a brave-hearted and goodly youth whose right to a seat upon the throne of England took precedence over that of the usurper now sitting there? A tyrant ... who gave warrant of death into the hands of his God-brother, and laid command upon him to deliver it upon that brother's executioner ... what wouldst thou say—Sir Richard Rohan, Earl of Warwick, son of Edward, Duke of Clarence?"
Sir Richard felt as though the meshes of a far-spread net were dropping down about him.
"I cannot say.... Even I cannot think!" he cried, burying his face in his arms.
"Thou art but a brave-hearted, artless youth, Sir Richard ... Sire. Enough hast thou heard to-day to turn the head of Cæsar. Think upon what I have said ... upon what I have yet tosay ... and make answer at thy calmer leisure," said Tyrrell in a manner of voice dignified, pacific, kind. Then, reaching across, he grasped the young knight's arm and drew him to a seat beside him upon the fallen log.
"Once Lord Douglas," he then resumed, "was sworn ally of mine; but a craven traitor, whom we now know to be the Renegade Duke of Buckingham, carried tidings of the prince's death and my untoward interest in thy welfare into Castle Yewe. Twice since thy coming have the Douglas forces given me battle.... And yet, without the warrants, he cannot be acquainted with thy true identity ... 'tis passing——"
"But I had duplicates of the warrants," Sir Richard said to him; "the which you may be sure I made haste to deliver."
"Duplicates!"
"Sewn within my doublet—they were passed over in thy search."
"God in Heaven absolve me for this inadvertence!" roared Tyrrell, getting to his feet, and, in seeming forgetfulness of his infirmities, strode furiously back and forth above the brown and crackling leaves. "Much, indeed, is now madeplain to me. Yet ... after losing his hold of him," he went on, communing with himself, "why did Douglas so stoutly maintain his position ... there remains no other claimant ... 'tis passing strange—passing strange!"
For some time thereafter he continued setting restless footfalls amidst the carpet of dead leaves, clenching his hands and biting his thin lips.
Upon a sudden Sir Richard recalled the circumstance of the fair-haired youth imprisoned in Castle Yewe.
"Mayhap I can lesson thee of some things, Sir James," he volunteered.
"Then thou wilt discover in me a right willing listener," said Tyrrell, seating himself again upon the riven log.
So, briefly as might be, and clearly as he could compass it, Sir Richard related the story of the secret passageway and of Lady Douglas' daily teaching of the imprisoned youth.
"Ah! what monstrous iniquity!" Tyrrell cried when his companion had finished, thrusting his staff deep into the black mould. "Now is everything made transparent ... as plain as the hapsof yesterday! So false Douglas would impose him a counterfeit prince upon the credulous people of England? Marry! marry! to what depths of dishonor doth self ambition lead us! But what saidst thou was this youth's name, Sir Richard?"
"Perkin Warbeck."
"I' faith I know it not. Some yeoman's son, forsooth. Poor boy! an he follow this adventure to its end, he'll be gazing upon his body from another view-point than atop his shoulders. But more upon this same subject when we are come into the Tavern. Let all of that which has been said to thee to-day assimilate perfectly with thy understanding. Papers shall be laid before thee in substantiation of all my statements."
Stooping, Tyrrell took up the herbs which he had gathered by the way.
"Let us now return and finish the brewing of good de Claverlok's nostrum," he said.
Tyrrellappeared singularly nervous and distraught; and, after having finished with the brewing of the nostrum, was for setting out immediately upon his journey with Sir Richard to the tavern. But the young knight remained firm in his determination not to leave de Claverlok till he was well assured of his ultimate recovery. His great, sinewy frame had been sore racked with fever, Tyrrell told him, and it would be many weeks ere de Claverlok could be expected to regain his usual health.
It was late in the evening when the foot-boy, Harold, returned from Bannockburn with a doctor. This good man was a fat, bulbous-faced person, wearing a flamboyant badge in the shape of an enormous wart directly upon the tip of hisnose. He arrived with a tremendous fuss and bustle, wheezing so that he was to be heard in every corner of the place. He subsided upon the instant, however, when he learned that he was expected to consult with a student of the eminent Linacre.
Soon he came out to take sup with Tyrrell and Sir Richard in their little hut. When the young knight made haste to inquire as to what case his friend was in:
"It doth mightily please me," answered the fat doctor from Bannockburn, "to agree with his worshipful lordship inside ... ahem! I may e'en say that mine own opinions were exactly one with his ... and him, sir knight, a celebrated student and co-worker with the famous Thomas Linacre, of London; who, as thou dost probably know, doth entertain many a cunning precept somewhat at variance from the accepted standards of the older ... and ... well—schools ... ahem! Yet did his worshipful lordship do me the distinguished honor to inform me that my humble ... er ... prognosis was infinitely similar, if not somewhat superior, withal,—an thou'lt permit me to say thus—to that whichwould have been arrived upon by a great many ... er ... practitioners and chymists of ... ahem! ... London."
"Gramercy for thy learned opinion," said Sir Richard winking above the doctor's bald head at the foot-boys. "So! thou'rt of opinion that the good knight will surely recover?"
"Ah! assuredly will he. Though in cases of this kind, where the ... ahem!—alimentary passages have become somewhat flabby ... yes ... flabby, I may say, from long disuse (Sir Richard thought of all his scourings over the hills for goats-milk, goodies, and wine!)—there may follow, anon, a more or less ... ahem!—more or less, I say, violent inflammation of the ... er ... esophagus; which, if not immediately allayed—but, by the mass, and what a delicious odor is that!"
Harold, just then, had happily uncovered the simmering kettle.
"Yes," said Sir Richard, "art hungry, good doctor?"
"In sooth, an I be not, sir knight, thou mayst call me a fustian shove-groat shilling! marry! marry! and were not such a ride as I've had to-day full fatiguing to a gentleman of my avoirdupois?"
Well, after contemplating the widespread devastation which the amiable doctor wrought upon the viands set before him, right willingly would anyone have yielded to him the palm of gluttony—though it must be said of Sir Richard that his own appetite was something not below the average. And how the man could drink, too! It seemed to Sir Richard that he would never have done with pouring their hard-fetched wine into his gullet. He might appropriately have been girded with iron hoops and set aside as a filled hogshead when the last drop trickled within his vast interior. A flabby esophagus could never have been attributed to the good doctor, withal.
But he warmed up famously under the wine's genial influence, and regaled his hosts throughout the evening with many a merry tale. Sir Richard misliked him not at all; and, before the good doctor set up his thunderous snoring before the pleasing warmth of the blaze, the young knight had secured his promise to remain with de Claverlok till he was safe on the road to health. It may be said further, too, that he was a gainerof the half of Sir Richard's remaining nobles because of the bargain.
The young knight passed a sleepless night, interspersed with fanciful dreams wrought around the circumstance of his new-discovered ancestry. He seemed to be always alone and lonely, sitting upon a lofty eminence, with a ray of dazzling white light, ever broadening, sweeping from where he sat into illimitable space. The vast area thus brilliantly illumined ever seemed peopled with a countless multitude of kneeling beings; reminding him of the glimmering sun of evening lying softly upon the woolly backs of innumerable sheep.
It chanced that Sir Richard was the last member of their little company to be abroad the next morning, and when he came out into the sunshine Harold and Thomas, who had been whispering together, dropped in concert to their knees. Then Sir James Tyrrell, now more than ever bent and gray looking, drew toward him, limping around the corner of the sick knight's hut. He bowed to Sir Richard after a grave and courtly fashion, and, when the young knight extended his hand, saluted it deferentially with his lips. Notanyone could have been more abject in his obsequiousness than the fat doctor from Bannockburn. He begged Sir Richard but to lay some command upon him so that he might give proof of his devotion to his cause and person. To the young knight it seemed to be the beginning of the fulfillment of his visions. Only good de Claverlok and unconquerable Isabel remained the same; the which resulted in Sir Richard deriving the greater pleasure from their companionship.
All of the while it was to be remarked that shrewd Tyrrell's eyes bent close upon Sir Richard's every action. By reaching out to him a taste of sovereignty, he felt that he was tempting him to desire it in a greater portion.
Sir Richard divined that it was to be a silent duel between them; and he was bound to confess to himself that he was already becoming conscious of the tightening of the net about him. He was becoming fearful that the master politician might win.
It was like a transitory release from the clutch of an unseen, iron hand to get within the larger hut and enjoy a talk with de Claverlok and Isabel.Though still pitifully weak, it was clearly to be seen that Sir Richard's faithful friend and squire was now leaving his illness behind him.
"Think well and deeply, boy, before deciding upon thy course," he advised Sir Richard when he arose to take leave of him. "'Tis no small thing to hurl a great power at a sleeping, peaceful nation; thereby to embroil it in bloody strife and dissensions ... eh. But, once thy path be laid, follow it without halt or deviation to the end. Thus let me say," he added, taking the young knight's hand, "'twill be a right brave day for England when thy consent be won to sit upon her throne."
"But, whatever I do, de Claverlok, and whereever I go," Sir Richard said, "your own good self shall sure be with me."
"Within this very hovel, Sir Richard, we will await thy further command," he replied.
"Sir Richard!" Isabel called to the young knight as he was about to step to the door. "Take this bit packet," she said, handing him the smallest of parcels. "Guard it next thy heart till thou hast reached into the Forest of Lammermuir—then, thou mayst open it. But remember,boy, not before! And now," she added, standing a-tiptoe, "I'll kiss thee a good-bye ... one for myself—one for Lionel. Thou art a brave, good youth, Sir Richard."
There were tears in the young knight's eyes when he stepped outside the hut ready to start with Tyrrell, who was on horse and waiting, upon their journey.
Sir Richard was surprised to discover that Harold's jennet was trapped and standing beside his saddled stallion. When he inquired what it meant, the foot-boy went on his knees before him and besought the young knight to permit him to become his lowly squire. When Sir Richard inquired of him what Thomas intended doing, the foot-boy informed him that his mate had sought a like service with de Claverlok.
"Then get off your knees," Sir Richard told him, "and come along; or, by the mass! I'll have the broad of my sword this moment at your hinder quarters."
Whereupon they mounted and started for the road. Sir Richard looked several times over his shoulder-piece; and always his backward glance would be met by a waving of Isabel's lace scarfin the doorway, and two profound bows from in front of the smaller hut. 'Twas a sight well worth seeing—that awkward curtsy of the fat doctor from Bannockburn.
They were perforce obliged to travel slowly, as Tyrrell's infirmities seemed fast growing upon him. From the drawn and haggard look of his thin countenance it could plainly be seen that he was in constant and extreme pain. Moreover, Sir Richard noted that by now he had ceased attributing his sufferings to the tortures to which he had been put in Castle Yewe. Times he would be seized with a fit of coughing of so violent a nature that Sir Richard bethought him it might well have shattered his very insides.
Then, for the space of two days, a most unpleasant transition of weathers set in upon them, marked by incessant and dense fogs, heavy rains and sharp, driving flurries of snow. So alarmingly was Tyrrell's sickness increasing that upon the morning of the fourth day, it appeared impossible that he would have sufficient strength longer to sit horse. Sir Richard begged him to stay within the herdsman's cottage, where they had stopped for the night, till he had riddenahead to summon help. But Tyrrell stubbornly refused to listen to the young knight's entreaties.
That day had broken bright, was almost balmy, and brilliantly clear, the gray storm-pall having rolled seaward during the night.
"'Twill be a salve to my sore lungs, sire ... this blessed warmth," Tyrrell said to Sir Richard, lifting his nose into the thin air as he tottered upon the young knight's arm toward his waiting barb.
With Harold's assistance Sir Richard contrived to seat Tyrrell upon his horse; though it was no easy task, all encumbered as he was in the heaviest of armor.
"Put hand upon my shoulder, man," Sir Richard said to him after they had started, riding close to his side.
"Without aid have I come through life ... alone I'll sit till I fall ... sire," Tyrrell answered gloomily.
"An you call me king rightfully," said Sir Richard sternly, "put hand on my shoulder ... 'tis a command!"
Tyrrell turned upon the young knight a wan smile and then capitulated.
"Now thou art becoming an apt pupil ... sire," he answered in a whisper.
By now they were riding along a part of the Sauchieburn Pass with which Sir Richard was not familiar. It was that portion stretching northward from the point where he had left it to give battle with the Renegade Duke. The country here was more thickly populated than any through which they had passed. Drawing upon a high eminence, the three travelers could see the smoke from many chimney-tops curling above the downs. Away to the left was a cluster of cottages, surmounted by the steeple of a church. A good two leagues ahead could be distinguished that which appeared to be an inn standing alone against the roadside.
Like a yellow and much broken ribbon the highway fell away from their feet, threading in wide, sweeping curves along the narrow, winding valley. Upon this roadway, and appearing and disappearing with it around the bases of the hills, a company of armed horsemen was riding.
For some time the weight of Tyrrell's body had been bearing momentarily more heavily against that of Sir Richard. It could be notedthat his eyes had lost a great measure of their accustomed brilliancy, and that his breaths were coming thick and painfully labored. Sir Richard leaned toward him and told him of the approaching horsemen.
"Canst decipher the colors beneath which they ride?" Tyrrell asked weakly.
"Methinks I can but just make me out a device in sable upon a field gules. The banners do so flutter in the wind," Sir Richard added, "that I cannot guess its form."
"Sable upon gules," Tyrrell whispered, without raising his head. "They are thine own good men ... sire."
As they drew within easy distance Sir Richard recognized them to be a part of the company of knights who had bivouaced around the pavilion of purple and black. When the approaching company made out who the three horsemen were they set up a great shouting, driving down upon them with waving swords and lances. They grew quiet upon the instant, however, when they observed that their leader, Sir James Tyrrell, lifted not his head, and bore in around him with grave and apprehensive faces.
Suddenly, then, and with a supreme effort of will, Tyrrell straightened his tall, gaunt form upon his saddle, scowling meanwhile with deep-knitted brows upon the circle of grim warriors gathered about him. Sir Richard noted still the pitiful half-haze upon his eyes.
"Knights," he cried, in a deep and penetrating voice; "I have kept my vows to thee. Here, now, I bring thee thy leader—Sir Richard Rohan, Earl of Warwick; Son of Edward, Duke of Clarence"—he swayed so it seemed that he must surely fall. Then, raising himself with that which seemed to be a superhuman effort high upon his stirrups: "I acclaim this young knight, before all the world,King Richard IV!" he shouted, and pitched forward, inert, insensible, into the arms of one of his men.
Right tenderly did they bear him down the hill till they came to the tavern which Sir Richard had glimpsed from the promontory but a short while gone.
"'Tis an inflammation of the pleura," he whispered to Sir Richard when the young knight was standing beside his bed within a small room of the tavern. "'Tis a dangerous sickness ... Godwot, an I may or may not survive, sire, to witness the fruition of all my labors. But the torch is now ready trimmed, awaiting but the application of the spark. Grant me the boon of thy promise to continue on thy journey to the Red Tavern. Lord Bishop Kennedy shall soon seek thee there. In him thou canst repose the utmost confidence; I yield thee into his hands. Give thee adieu, sire," he whispered, saluting Sir Richard's outstretched hand with his feverish lips.
The dim passageway outside the small room in which Tyrrell had been disposed was filled with the low humming of voices, a subdued sound of clanking swords and the pale gleamings of points of light on polished armor. As Sir Richard stepped through the door, these solemn-visaged knights moved silently against the wall and balustrade, thus opening him an avenue down the stairs. They made him obeisance, one by one, as he passed between; each whispering him a princely name and title, the which sang loud in the young knight's ears of the fame of many valorous deeds long since set down in history.
A round dozen of them followed him upon the highway, intending to give him safe conduct tohis destination. Experiencing an intense longing to be alone, however, Sir Richard summoned courage to decline their proffered services, and thereupon set his stallion's head again toward the Red Tavern with none but Harold in his train.