CHAPTER II
THE FIGHT BY THE RIVER
For a while Hugh and Eve heard nothing, but Grey Dick's ears weresharper than theirs, quick as these might be. About half a minute later,however, they caught the sound of horses' hoofs ringing on the hardearth, followed by that of voices and the crackle of breaking reeds.
Two of the speakers appeared and pulled up their horses near by in adry hollow that lay between them and the river bank. Peeping between thereeds that grew about the mouth of the earth-dwelling, Eve saw them.
"My father and the Frenchman," she whispered. "Look!" And she slid backa little so that Hugh might see.
Peering through the stems of the undergrowth, set as it were in a littleframe against the red and ominous sky, the eyes of Hugh de Cressi fellupon Sir Edmund Acour, a gallant, even a splendid-looking knight--thatwas his first impression of him. Broad shouldered, graceful, in ageneither young nor old, clean featured, quick eyed, with a mobile mouthand a little, square-cut beard, soft and languid voiced, black haired,richly dressed in a fur robe, and mounted on a fine black horse, suchwas the man.
Staring at Acour, and remembering that he, too, loved Red Eve, Hugh grewsuddenly ashamed. How could a mere merchant compare himself with thismagnificent lord, this high-bred, many-titled favourite of courts andof fortune? How could he rival him, he who had never yet travelleda hundred miles from the place where he was born, save once, when hesailed on a trading voyage to Calais? As well might a hooded crow try tomatch a peregrine that swooped to snatch away the dove from beneath itsclaws. Yes, he, Hugh, was the grey crow, Eve was the dove whom he hadcaptured, and yonder shifty-eyed Count was the fleet, fierce peregrinewho soon would tear out his heart and bear the quarry far away. Hughshivered a little as the thought struck him, not with fear for himself,but at the dread of that great and close bereavement.
The girl at his side felt the shiver, and her mind, quickened bylove and peril, guessed its purport. She said nothing, for words weredangerous; only turning her beautiful face she pressed her lips uponher lover's hand. It was her message to him; thereby, as he knew well,humble as he might be, she acknowledged him her lord forever. I am withyou, said that kiss. Have no fear; in life or in death none shall divideus. He looked at her with grateful eyes, and would have spoken had shenot placed her hand upon his mouth and pointed.
Acour was speaking in English, which he used with a strong Frenchaccent.
"Well, we do not find your beautiful runaway, Sir John," he said, in aclear and cultivated voice; "and although I am not vain, for my partI cannot believe that she has come to such a place as this to meet amerchant's clerk, she who should company with kings."
"Yet I fear it is so, Sir Edmund," answered Sir John Clavering, a stout,dark man of middle age. "This girl of mine is very heady, as I givewarning you will find out when she is your wife. For years she hasset her fancy upon Hugh de Cressi; yes, since they were boy and girltogether, as I think, and while he lives I doubt she'll never changeit."
"While he lives--then why should he continue to live, Sir John?" askedthe Count indifferently. "Surely the world will not miss a chapman'sson!"
"The de Cressis are my kin, although I hate them, Sir Edmund. Also theyare rich and powerful, and have many friends in high places. If thisyoung man died by my command it would start a blood feud of which nonecan tell the end, for, after all, he is nobly born."
"Then, Sir John, he shall die by mine. No, not at my own hands, sinceI do not fight with traders. But I have those about me who are prettyswordsmen and know how to pick a quarrel. Before a week is out therewill be a funeral in Dunwich."
"I know nothing of your men, and do not want to hear of their quarrels,past or future," said Sir John testily.
"Of course not," answered the Count. "I pray you, forget my words. Nameof God! what an accursed and ill-omened spot is this. I feel as thoughI were standing by my own grave--it came upon me suddenly." And heshivered and turned pale.
Dick lifted his bow, but Hugh knocked the arrow aside ere he could looseit.
"To those who talk of death, death often draws near," replied Clavering,crossing himself, "though I find the place well enough, seeing the hourand season."
"Do you--do you, Sir John? Look at that sky; look at the river beneathwhich has turned to blood. Hark to the howl of the wind in the reeds andthe cry of the birds we cannot see. Ay, and look at our shadows on thesnow. Mine lies flat by a great hole, and yours rising against yonderbank is that of a hooded man with hollow eyes--Death himself as I shouldlimn him! There, it is gone! What a fool am I, or how strong is thatwine of yours! Shall we be going also?"
"Nay, here comes my son with tidings. Well, Jack, have you found yoursister?" he added, addressing a dark and somewhat saturnine young manwho now rode up to them from over the crest of the hollow.
"No, sir, though we have beat the marsh through and through, so thatscarce an otter could have escaped us. And yet she's here, for Thomas ofKessland caught sight of her red cloak among the reeds, and what's more,Hugh de Cressi is with her, and Grey Dick too, for both were seen."
"I am glad there's a third," said Sir John drily, "though God save mefrom his arrows! This Grey Dick," he added to the Count, "is a wild,homeless half-wit whom they call Hugh de Cressi's shadow, but the finestarcher in Suffolk, with Norfolk thrown in; one who can put a shaftthrough every button on your doublet at fifty paces--ay, and bring downwild geese on the wing twice out of four times, for I have seen him doit with that black bow of his."
"Indeed? Then I should like to see him shoot--at somebody else,"answered Acour, for in those days such skill was of interest to allsoldiers. "Kill Hugh de Cressi if you will, friend, but spare Grey Dick;he might be useful."
"Ay, Sir Edmund," broke in the young man furiously, "I'll kill him if Ican catch him, the dog who dares to bring scandal on my sister's name.Let the Saints but give me five minutes face to face with him alone,with none to help either of us, and I'll beat him to a pulp, and hangwhat's left of him upon the nearest tree to be a warning to all suchpuppies."
"I note the challenge," said Sir Edmund, "and should the chance come myway will keep the lists for you with pleasure, since whatever this Hughmay be I doubt that from his blood he'll prove no coward. But, youngsir, you must catch your puppy ere you hang him, and if he is in thismarsh he must have gone to ground."
"I think so, too, Sir Edmund; but, if so, we'll soon start the badger.Look yonder." And he pointed to smoke rising at several spots half amile or more away.
"What have you done, son?" asked Sir John anxiously.
"Fired the reeds," he said with a savage laugh, "and set men to watchthat the game does not break back. Oh, have no fear, father! Red Evewill take no harm. The girl ever loved fire. Moreover, if she is thereshe will run to the water before it, and be caught."
"Fool," thundered Sir John, "do you know your sister so little? As likeas not she'll stay and burn, and then I'll lose my girl, who, when allis said, is worth ten of you! Well, what is done cannot be undone, butif death comes of this mad trick it is on your head, not mine! To thebank, and watch with me, Sir Edmund, for we can do no more."