CHAPTER XXV
OF THE END OF THE RED TAVERN AND ITS FITTING EPITAPH
A score of times during the next morning Sir Richard berated thesun for a laggard orb. When he was not stationed in front of hisnarrow window gazing out upon the reddening sky, the filmy rags ofundulating mist floating above the moor, and the round summits of thedowns blushing rosily above them, he would be polishing up his gearand industriously brushing the kinks out of his horse-hair plume. Inlieu of a Venetian glass, he trimmed his beard to a proper point byreflecting his image against his glittering breast-plate, which he hungfrom a nail in the wall beside the window.
Zenas was but just kindling a fire when Sir Richard came down into themain room, the while the hunchback was cursing roundly at Harold forrefusing to bring in more logs. It was their habit to begin quibblingthe moment they clapt eyes upon each other. Being in the merriestof tempers, the young knight soon contrived to straighten out theirquarrel, posting the foot-boy, happily whistling, in quest of anarmload of wood. He even succeeded in enticing somewhat of a grin intothe sullen visage of the crook-back.
"An thou canst keep me in this gallant humor, sire," said he, "thoumayst buy me a garb of motley and call me thy fool. See! this twisted,gnarled form ... these masque-like features ... and the yellowfang-teeth, all loose and tottering.... By'r Lady! sire, they were aright famous complement of the cap and bells, quoth 'a."
"An I am king, good, my Zenas," said Sir Richard, "why, thou shalt evenplay the fool."
"An thou be ever a king ... with a proper throne," said he, grinningand rubbing his hands together, "then I _am_ a fool. These be parlousundertakings, sire ... parlous, deadly undertakings. An I mistake not,there'll be a pretty row of poled heads on London Bridge to mark theend."
The young knight had it on his tongue to tell him that there'd beno heads lopped off on his behalf, but he thought better of it andremained silent.
"And the appetite ... the appetite, prithee," Zenas went on croaking,as Sir Richard sat beside the loaded table, idly dreaming. "'Tis aright savory pasty, this," said he, cutting through its brown covering.
"I'll have naught of sup now, Zenas," the young knight said. "But keepit warm ... mayhap later I'll be an hungered."
Downing a goblet of canary, to calm his shaking inwards, the youngknight went outside. Ordering his stallion instantly to be made ready,he galloped madly then against the face of the rising sun, hoping inthis manner to cool his heated temples.
The light air coming into his nostrils, the swift moving against thewind, made him soon feel like a puffed giant upon a pigmy land; anenchanted prince upon a magic road.
Sir Richard must have ridden after this fashion something above twoleagues. Then he came suddenly within sight of the sea, which rolledvast above him, like a shimmering green curtain hanging pendant fromthe sky. Hull down on the vague horizon, he saw a ship that seemed tobe making from the coast.
Upon the beach there remained less than a score of tents to mark theencampment of an armed host. One after another, as he looked, they weresinking between the white sand dunes. Black spots, reminding him muchof scurrying sand-crabs, were moving hurriedly in and about them.
The young knight rode down to meet a solitary horseman approachingalong the road. Presently, by the red cross flaming out of a whitetunic, he made out that it was Lord Bishop Kennedy. "Give thee agood-morrow, sire," the Bishop called out to Sir Richard as they drewwithin hailing distance. "Thou art early abroad, I see?"
The young knight returned his salutation and made answer: "Yes."
"Our forces here," pursued Kennedy, as Sir Richard wheeled and rodebeside him, "are now withdrawing for the purpose of massing above theforest. In a fortnight Sir James will belike be able to sit horse;whereupon we shall at once begin our march southward. After to-night,but a pile of charred timbers will remain to tell the tale of the RedTavern. And right happy am I withal that the enterprise doth drawto a point of focus. 'Twill mark the end of intrigue, jealousy, andtreachery; the beginning of war-like action."
Conversing in this wise, they drew, at length, within sight of thedoomed tavern. The young knight glanced upward as he rode toward thedoor and saw Rocelia flash away from the window as she observed thatSir Richard was not riding alone. A wave of ineffable emotion surgedover him as he divined that she had been awaiting his return. It seemedan age before Harold came to relieve him of his horse.
When he came inside Sir Richard saw that the table was as he had leftit.
"Lord Kennedy will take sup with thee," Zenas told him, smilingcraftily and rubbing his hands together the while.
"I care not to eat," said the young knight. "Where's Lord Kennedy?"
"He begged of thee to yield him but a moment till he had speech of theladies, sire."
Wearing a countenance as impassive as that of a graven image, LordKennedy came down presently and said that the maiden was suffering of aslight indisposition and would not walk with Sir Richard that morning.
There was an appreciable air of constraint about him which revealed tothe young knight instantly that something was gone wrong. He noted,moreover, Zenas' smile of cunning triumph, and guessed that he had beenthe cause thereof.
"I'll have it from her own lips," suddenly declared Sir Richard, hishand upon the hilt of his blade.
"Sire!"
"Avaunt with thy empty titles!" he cried. "Dost hear me?... I havesaid!"
"'Tis impossible," said Lord Kennedy, sternly, albeit his manner was ofthe quietest.
"Was that truly her message?" asked Sir Richard.
"It was," said Kennedy, opening him coolly an egg.
"Setting thy bishop's mitre aside," said the young knight quietly, "Isay that thou liest in thy throat, an this be the maiden's answer!"
With a bound, which overturned his chair and brought the litter of thetable-top crashing upon the floor, Lord Kennedy was on his feet, hisnaked blade flashing before Sir Richard's eyes.
Kennedy, with the play of blades, was like a child in the hands of theyoung knight. There were scarce above a half dozen passes before hissword went humming through the window, taking glass and sash with it tothe ground.
Sir Richard turned upon hearing a sharp cry in the direction of thestair door. Rocelia, all white and trembling was framed within itscasements. Thinking alone of her, he started for the steps.
"Sire," Lord Kennedy called to him.
The young knight wheeled. With tunic split from chin to skirt, BishopKennedy was standing in the middle of the floor; grave-faced, ashen,but wonderfully calm.
"I have turned traitorous sword against my king," he said. "Thou owestme a death, sire."
"Then I'll remain ever in thy debt," Sir Richard made answer. "'Twasthe fault of my unruly tongue. I ask thy forgiveness, Lord Kennedy.And now, come, Rocelia," he said to the frightened maiden, "we'll haveearned our walk."
Thereupon he went over to where she was standing, placed her yieldingarm within his and together they walked through the outer door.
"One word with thee, sire," Lord Kennedy called after them when theyhad started for the forest.
"Thou meanest fair by that maiden?" he said, when Sir Richard came backto the door. "She is the bonniest in all Scotland, sire," he added,with a great sincerity of tone.
"Thou hast spoken truth, Lord Kennedy," the young knight answered,reaching out his hand. "And, sir, by the cross of this, my sword, Iwould liefer have her than any proffered kingdom atop of earth."
"And thou wouldst certes be the gainer," Kennedy answered. "God wot howthis may end, sire," he added, shaking his head. Then, grasping SirRichard's hand for a moment, he turned sadly back into the tavern room.
Before setting out upon their walk the young knight summoned Harold tohim and laid injunction upon him to trap his stallion, the jennet, anda third palfrey for a lady.
"It will be for a long journey, mayhap. Lead them so quickly as maybe," he told him, "along the road where I first came upon you, andawait there my coming."
A
little corner within the wood there was which Rocelia and Sir Richardhad come to look upon as all their own. Thither in silence they tooktheir way. Upon reaching there she sat down upon a log, leaning herback against a tree; whilst the young knight disposed himself upon themoss at her feet.
Rocelia's eyes bore plain evidence that she had been weeping. Indeedshe seemed in the most melancholy of moods; and, when Sir Richard madebold to comfort her, would not suffer him even to take her hand. Thenwith many halts and sighs she repeated to him what Bishop Kennedy hadsaid to her. Which, in effect, was, that it would be wrong for themto be another time alone together. That Sir Richard, being the lawfulheir to the crown, must have a care of the proprieties, and seekcompanionship among those who were his equals. All this and much moreRocelia told him, bravely, with her soft eyes looking sad into his; hersweet lips never once faltering from the difficult task imposed uponthem.
"But," said Sir Richard, "did I not swear to you last night, Rocelia,that I would never be king? I am seeking now, and in you, dear, acompanion through life. Whether you say me yea or nay, 'twill be allthe same. I mean to leave upon this very day. Will you not trust----"
"Ah! Richard," she said, sweetly, "speak not that word. All trust do Iimpose in you. It is not that, dear," laying her hand lightly upon hisbared head; "no, 'tis not that. It is that I--I love you too well anddearly to assist in this sacrifice of your splendid future. No--no! youmust not, Richard ... indeed, you must not. I may never lay lips uponyours, dear. But, mayhap, you will remember me for a while as a simplemaid who dared to tell you that she loved you; and who, loving you,surrendered you to her country ... and begged you, prayed you to assertyour rightful position within its boundaries."
"But I cannot, Rocelia," Sir Richard protested. "Got wot an I despisenot the whole vile conspiracy. An you'll not go with me, I'll go alone... and with a heart fair breaking for love of you. Come!" he pleaded;"let me bear you away out of this turmoil-ridden land to a place ofsafety, and peaceful quiet, and contentment."
"Ah! and how sweet it would all be, my dear," said she, allowing SirRichard to take and keep her hand, but keeping him firmly at a distancewithal. "I am so tired of it all. Naught have I known but strife anddanger since I came out of girlhood. But, ah, no! it may never be. 'Tisyour duty, Richard, to claim your own; and mine to prevail upon you notto abandon it. Never let it be said that my champion was a deserter ofhis colors."
"I held faithfully to the saffron color," declared Sir Richard, "and,i' faith, I'll hold to it still."
She smiled sadly, stroking his hair.
"But these other colors, Richard," said she, "were marked upon yourescutcheon at your birth. You may not desert them."
Sir Richard had been all along looking up into Rocelia's face. Hedropped his head disconsolately when she set him in the light of adeserter. He never knew what he would have answered. He knew only thatshe shrieked suddenly aloud and drew him swiftly close to her bosom.
"For the love of God, dear heart, turn!" she cried. "'Tis Zenas with aponiard!"
The young knight wheeled in time to see the murderous crook-backplucking his long blade from the earth, where it had buried itself tothe very hilt under the impetus that was meant to have been expendedupon Sir Richard's body.
In another moment the young knight had grappled with him; and then theywent rolling and threshing over the ground in the throes of a deadlyencounter. "God! what a strength is there in this grossly misshapenbody!" Sir Richard thought, and though he kept tight hold of thehunchback's knife hand, every moment Sir Richard feared that he wouldsucceed in turning the blade and driving it home in his neck. So narrowwas the margin between the young knight and death withal, that once thekeen point traveled across his throat and opened a slight scratch.
"You will kill my hound? you damned sword-and-buckler knight!" Zenaskept hissing in Sir Richard's ear. "You abominable puppet, you wouldcheat my good brother of his head to set you on a throne!--you fustian,lack-linen pretender!--you flap-dragon tippler!--I'll send you whirlingstraight to hell, an I get me this poniard home!"
It happened by the merest stroke of fortune that, in their furioustumbling about, the hunchback's head struck with a great violenceagainst the log whereupon Rocelia had been sitting. His forbidding formgrew instantly limp and insensible, and the young knight leaped quicklyto his feet. A drop or two of blood was trickling down his breast-platefrom the scratch across his neck.
The moment that Sir Richard was fairly up Rocelia was in his arms, withher lips laid close upon his. Then, thrusting him impulsively from her,she tore open her cloak, ripped a quantity of lace from her gown, andbegan binding it around his neck.
"You'll not be very much hurt, Richard ... dear Dick?" said she,kissing him again.
He did not say her too strong a nay (for which he was soon forgiven!),for Sir Richard discovered that when he but so much as hesitated hehad another kiss.
"Oh, Richard, my love," said Rocelia, "take me away. I understand itall now--this murderous treachery, this stabbing in the back ... thesefearsome, dark conspiracies! But take me, dear, to that place of rest,and peace, and sweet contentment. Even now I am ready."
Thus, with his arm clasped tight about her, they sought the road andtheir waiting horses. Eftsoons they were on their way, taking thenarrower road to the left, which would lead them the more directly tothe hut where the young knight had left de Claverlok.
It was late that evening when they drew out of the deep forest, farabove and to the northwest of their starting point.
Many leagues behind them, and rising high into the heavens, they couldsee a lurid splotch of light, glowing red and yellow in the mysticdarkness.
"'Tis the end of the Red Tavern," said Sir Richard.
"Well," whispered Rocelia, "it brought you to me, dear Richard."
"And to me, sweet Rocelia," said the young knight earnestly, "itbrought you."
"Have I thy permission to speak, Sir Richard?" begged Harold, who wasstanding by.
"Certes, you have, my boy," replied Sir Richard.
"Then let me wish that all of thy troubles shall be as the smoke ofit," said Harold earnestly.
"'Tis a fitting epitaph," Rocelia said, her hand stealing within thatof the young knight.
Then, for a little space, they stood there upon the summit of the hill,watching the glare of the burning tavern fading and dying away.
"Yes ... a most fitting epitaph," Sir Richard made answer. Whereuponthey resumed their journey lightsomely, happily, northward.