The Black Arrow: A Tale of Two Roses

  CHAPTER V--NIGHT IN THE WOODS: ALICIA RISINGHAM

  It was almost certain that Sir Daniel had made for the Moat House; but,considering the heavy snow, the lateness of the hour, and the necessityunder which he would lie of avoiding the few roads and striking acrossthe wood, it was equally certain that he could not hope to reach it erethe morrow.

  There were two courses open to Dick; either to continue to follow in theknight's trail, and, if he were able, to fall upon him that very night incamp, or to strike out a path of his own, and seek to place himselfbetween Sir Daniel and his destination.

  Either scheme was open to serious objection, and Dick, who feared toexpose Joanna to the hazards of a fight, had not yet decided between themwhen he reached the borders of the wood.

  At this point Sir Daniel had turned a little to his left, and thenplunged straight under a grove of very lofty timber. His party had thenformed to a narrower front, in order to pass between the trees, and thetrack was trod proportionally deeper in the snow. The eye followed itunder the leafless tracery of the oaks, running direct and narrow; thetrees stood over it, with knotty joints and the great, uplifted forest oftheir boughs; there was no sound, whether of man or beast--not so much asthe stirring of a robin; and over the field of snow the winter sun laygolden among netted shadows.

  "How say ye," asked Dick of one of the men, "to follow straight on, orstrike across for Tunstall?"

  "Sir Richard," replied the man-at-arms, "I would follow the line untilthey scatter."

  "Ye are, doubtless, right," returned Dick; "but we came right hastilyupon the errand, even as the time commanded. Here are no houses, neitherfor food nor shelter, and by the morrow's dawn we shall know both coldfingers and an empty belly. How say ye, lads? Will ye stand a pinch forexpedition's sake, or shall we turn by Holywood and sup with MotherChurch? The case being somewhat doubtful, I will drive no man; yet if yewould suffer me to lead you, ye would choose the first."

  The men answered, almost with one voice, that they would follow SirRichard where he would.

  And Dick, setting spur to his horse, began once more to go forward.

  The snow in the trail had been trodden very hard, and the pursuers hadthus a great advantage over the pursued. They pushed on, indeed, at around trot, two hundred hoofs beating alternately on the dull pavement ofthe snow, and the jingle of weapons and the snorting of horses raising awarlike noise along the arches of the silent wood.

  Presently, the wide slot of the pursued came out upon the high road fromHolywood; it was there, for a moment, indistinguishable; and, where itonce more plunged into the unbeaten snow upon the farther side, Dick wassurprised to see it narrower and lighter trod. Plainly, profiting by theroad, Sir Daniel had begun already to scatter his command.

  At all hazards, one chance being equal to another, Dick continued topursue the straight trail; and that, after an hour's riding, in which itled into the very depths of the forest, suddenly split, like a burstingshell, into two dozen others, leading to every point of the compass.

  Dick drew bridle in despair. The short winter's day was near an end; thesun, a dull red orange, shorn of rays, swam low among the leaflessthickets; the shadows were a mile long upon the snow; the frost bitcruelly at the finger-nails; and the breath and steam of the horsesmounted in a cloud.

  "Well, we are outwitted," Dick confessed. "Strike we for Holywood, afterall. It is still nearer us than Tunstall--or should be by the station ofthe sun."

  So they wheeled to their left, turning their backs on the red shield ofsun, and made across country for the abbey. But now times were changedwith them; they could no longer spank forth briskly on a path beaten firmby the passage of their foes, and for a goal to which that path itselfconducted them. Now they must plough at a dull pace through theencumbering snow, continually pausing to decide their course, continuallyfloundering in drifts. The sun soon left them; the glow of the westdecayed; and presently they were wandering in a shadow of blackness,under frosty stars.

  Presently, indeed, the moon would clear the hilltops, and they mightresume their march. But till then, every random step might carry themwider of their march. There was nothing for it but to camp and wait.

  Sentries were posted; a spot of ground was cleared of snow, and, aftersome failures, a good fire blazed in the midst. The men-at-arms satclose about this forest hearth, sharing such provisions as they had, andpassing about the flask; and Dick, having collected the most delicate ofthe rough and scanty fare, brought it to Lord Risingham's niece, whereshe sat apart from the soldiery against a tree.

  She sat upon one horse-cloth, wrapped in another, and stared straightbefore her at the firelit scene. At the offer of food she started, likeone wakened from a dream, and then silently refused.

  "Madam," said Dick, "let me beseech you, punish me not so cruelly.Wherein I have offended you, I know not; I have, indeed, carried youaway, but with a friendly violence; I have, indeed, exposed you to theinclemency of night, but the hurry that lies upon me hath for its end thepreservation of another, who is no less frail and no less unfriended thanyourself. At least, madam, punish not yourself; and eat, if not forhunger, then for strength."

  "I will eat nothing at the hands that slew my kinsman," she replied.

  "Dear madam," Dick cried, "I swear to you upon the rood I touched himnot."

  "Swear to me that he still lives," she returned.

  "I will not palter with you," answered Dick. "Pity bids me to wound you.In my heart I do believe him dead."

  "And ye ask me to eat!" she cried. "Ay, and they call you 'sir!' Y'have won your spurs by my good kinsman's murder. And had I not been fooland traitor both, and saved you in your enemy's house, ye should havedied the death, and he--he that was worth twelve of you--were living."

  "I did but my man's best, even as your kinsman did upon the other party,"answered Dick. "Were he still living--as I vow to Heaven I wish it!--hewould praise, not blame me."

  "Sir Daniel hath told me," she replied. "He marked you at the barricade.Upon you, he saith, their party foundered; it was you that won thebattle. Well, then, it was you that killed my good Lord Risingham, assure as though ye had strangled him. And ye would have me eat withyou--and your hands not washed from killing? But Sir Daniel hath swornyour downfall. He 'tis that will avenge me!"

  The unfortunate Dick was plunged in gloom. Old Arblaster returned uponhis mind, and he groaned aloud.

  "Do ye hold me so guilty?" he said; "you that defended me--you that areJoanna's friend?"

  "What made ye in the battle?" she retorted. "Y' are of no party; y' arebut a lad--but legs and body, without government of wit or counsel!Wherefore did ye fight? For the love of hurt, pardy!"

  "Nay," cried Dick, "I know not. But as the realm of England goes, ifthat a poor gentleman fight not upon the one side, perforce he must fightupon the other. He may not stand alone; 'tis not in nature."

  "They that have no judgment should not draw the sword," replied the younglady. "Ye that fight but for a hazard, what are ye but a butcher? Waris but noble by the cause, and y' have disgraced it."

  "Madam," said the miserable Dick, "I do partly see mine error. I havemade too much haste; I have been busy before my time. Already I stole aship--thinking, I do swear it, to do well--and thereby brought about thedeath of many innocent, and the grief and ruin of a poor old man whoseface this very day hath stabbed me like a dagger. And for this morning,I did but design to do myself credit, and get fame to marry with, and,behold! I have brought about the death of your dear kinsman that was goodto me. And what besides, I know not. For, alas! I may have set Yorkupon the throne, and that may be the worser cause, and may do hurt toEngland. O, madam, I do see my sin. I am unfit for life. I will, forpenance sake and to avoid worse evil, once I have finished thisadventure, get me to a cloister. I will forswear Joanna and the trade ofarms. I will be a friar, and pray for your good kinsman's spirit all mydays."

  It appeared to Dick, in this extremity of his humiliation
and repentance,that the young lady had laughed.

  Raising his countenance, he found her looking down upon him, in thefire-light, with a somewhat peculiar but not unkind expression.

  "Madam," he cried, thinking the laughter to have been an illusion of hishearing, but still, from her changed looks, hoping to have touched herheart, "madam, will not this content you? I give up all to undo what Ihave done amiss; I make heaven certain for Lord Risingham. And all thisupon the very day that I have won my spurs, and thought myself thehappiest young gentleman on ground."

  "O boy," she said--"good boy!"

  And then, to the extreme surprise of Dick, she first very tenderly wipedthe tears away from his cheeks, and then, as if yielding to a suddenimpulse, threw both her arms about his neck, drew up his face, and kissedhim. A pitiful bewilderment came over simple-minded Dick.

  "But come," she said, with great cheerfulness, "you that are a captain,ye must eat. Why sup ye not?"

  "Dear Mistress Risingham," replied Dick, "I did but wait first upon myprisoner; but, to say truth, penitence will no longer suffer me to endurethe sight of food. I were better to fast, dear lady, and to pray."

  "Call me Alicia," she said; "are we not old friends? And now, come, Iwill eat with you, bit for bit and sup for sup; so if ye eat not, neitherwill I; but if ye eat hearty, I will dine like a ploughman."

  So there and then she fell to; and Dick, who had an excellent stomach,proceeded to bear her company, at first with great reluctance, butgradually, as he entered into the spirit, with more and more vigour anddevotion: until, at last, he forgot even to watch his model, and mostheartily repaired the expenses of his day of labour and excitement.

  "Lion-driver," she said, at length, "ye do not admire a maid in a man'sjerkin?"

  The moon was now up; and they were only waiting to repose the weariedhorses. By the moon's light, the still penitent but now well-fed Richardbeheld her looking somewhat coquettishly down upon him.

  "Madam"--he stammered, surprised at this new turn in her manners.

  "Nay," she interrupted, "it skills not to deny; Joanna hath told me, butcome, Sir Lion-driver, look at me--am I so homely--come!"

  And she made bright eyes at him.

  "Ye are something smallish, indeed"--began Dick.

  And here again she interrupted him, this time with a ringing peal oflaughter that completed his confusion and surprise.

  "Smallish!" she cried. "Nay, now, be honest as ye are bold; I am adwarf, or little better; but for all that--come, tell me!--for all that,passably fair to look upon; is't not so?"

  "Nay, madam, exceedingly fair," said the distressed knight, pitifullytrying to seem easy.

  "And a man would be right glad to wed me?" she pursued.

  "O, madam, right glad!" agreed Dick.

  "Call me Alicia," said she.

  "Alicia," quoth Sir Richard.

  "Well, then, lion-driver," she continued, "sith that ye slew my kinsman,and left me without stay, ye owe me, in honour, every reparation; do yenot?"

  "I do, madam," said Dick. "Although, upon my heart, I do hold me butpartially guilty of that brave knight's blood."

  "Would ye evade me?" she cried.

  "Madam, not so. I have told you; at your bidding, I will even turn me amonk," said Richard.

  "Then, in honour, ye belong to me?" she concluded.

  "In honour, madam, I suppose"--began the young man.

  "Go to!" she interrupted; "ye are too full of catches. In honour do yebelong to me, till ye have paid the evil?"

  "In honour, I do," said Dick.

  "Hear, then," she continued; "Ye would make but a sad friar, methinks;and since I am to dispose of you at pleasure, I will even take you for myhusband. Nay, now, no words!" cried she. "They will avail you nothing.For see how just it is, that you who deprived me of one home, shouldsupply me with another. And as for Joanna, she will be the first,believe me, to commend the change; for, after all, as we be dear friends,what matters it with which of us ye wed? Not one whit!"

  "Madam," said Dick, "I will go into a cloister, an ye please to bid me;but to wed with anyone in this big world besides Joanna Sedley is what Iwill consent to neither for man's force nor yet for lady's pleasure.Pardon me if I speak my plain thoughts plainly; but where a maid is verybold, a poor man must even be the bolder."

  "Dick," she said, "ye sweet boy, ye must come and kiss me for that word.Nay, fear not, ye shall kiss me for Joanna; and when we meet, I shallgive it back to her, and say I stole it. And as for what ye owe me, why,dear simpleton, methinks ye were not alone in that great battle; and evenif York be on the throne, it was not you that set him there. But for agood, sweet, honest heart, Dick, y' are all that; and if I could find itin my soul to envy your Joanna anything, I would even envy her yourlove."