The Firebrand

  CHAPTER IV

  A LITTLE COMB-CUTTING

  By his accent of defiance, the Scot evidently considered that he hadmade a personal point here, but the Old Castilian gravely passed theinsult over.

  "Will the Senor state his case?" he said, bowing to the young man.

  "I came to this venta, the proprietor of which, and all his relations,may God confound for liars and thieves! When I entered I paid for oneweek's good straw and barley in coined silver of Mexico. The unshornvillain stole the feed from under my horse's nose so soon as my back wasturned, and then to-night, upon my complaining, set his rascal scullionson to vilify my country, or at least a country which, if not mine, isyet no concern of his or theirs. Whereupon I tendered to all the cleanerof them my cartel, offering to fight them with any weapon they mightname, and in any place, for the honour of Scotland and the Presbyterianreligion!"

  Though he had never heard of either of these last, the grey-beardedumpire gravely wagged his head at the statement of the Scot, nodded inacknowledgment, and turned with equal gravity and distinction to theGallegan as the representative of the opposite faction. He motioned himto proceed.

  "This man," said the Galician, speaking in the harsh stuttering whisperaffected by these Iberian hewers of wood and drawers of water, "this manfor these ten days past hath given all in the _Venta_ bad money andworse talk. To-day he would have cheated _Dueno_, and we, like true men,took up the cudgels for the good patron."

  "Hear the bog-trotting cowards lie!" cried the Scot, fiercely. "Save forthe barley, I paid no money, good or bad. All I had remains here in mybelt. If I gave bad money, let him produce it. And, save in the matterof his beast's provend, who gives money at the entering in of a hotel?"

  "Least of all a Scot," put in the Englishman, who had been followingwith some difficulty the wordy warfare.

  "Then because he would not exchange good money for the bad, and becauseof his words, which carried stings, we challenged him to fight, and hefought. That, worthy Senor, is the beginning of the matter, and theend."

  "Sir," said the Scot to the Old Castilian, "there was no question ofmoney. None brought my reckoning to me----"

  "No," sighed the landlord, from beyond the bottle-encumbered counterwhere he had taken refuge, "because he threatened to let daylight intothe vitals of the man who carried it to him."

  "But as to the insults to his country?" asked the old Castilian, "youought to have borne in mind that for that cause will a man fight quickerthan for his sweetheart."

  "So it is, Senor, we deny it not," answered the Gallegan; "yet thisfellow, after abusing the English and their land till there were no moreill words in the language, turned upon us because we chanced to agreewith him, outs with his pocket-book and deals round what he calls'cartels of defiance' as if he dealt a hand at ombre. Then, after somegive and take of ill words, as your honour knows the custom is, he pullshis blade upon us, and makes play as you saw. We are poor fellows, andknow no more than how to defend ourselves. And if we fight, our customis to do it with a couple of Albacete knives before half the town, andbe done with it. But this stranger was all for duels, and seconds, andcodes of honour, after the mode of Paris."

  "And a very excellent thing too, sir," said the Old Castilian, smilingat the Scot, "but in their due place, and their place is hardly in thekitchen of the venta of San Vicencio. Listen to me. My finding is this.You will all shake hands, after an apology given and received in thematter of the stranger's country, and since he has paid no reckoningthese ten days according to his own statement, the which I believe, heshall defray his count so soon as it shall be presented to him by thehost. Are you agreed?"

  "Agreed!" said the Gallegan, holding out his hand to the Scot, "and Iregret, on behalf of myself and my companions, that we ever said aughtto the discredit of England, the very distinguished country of which theSenor stranger is a native."

  The Scot shrugged his shoulders in the French manner, but neverthelessheld out his hand with some show of heartiness.

  "I am no citizen of England, thank God," he said, "I own no suchpock-pudding land, but it will be a heavy day when Rollo Blair of CastleBlair, in the good shire of Fife, sits still with his hands in hispockets and hears a garlic-eating Frenchman abuse the English, withwhom his forbears fought so many good fights."

  "I thank you on behalf of my country for your championship, such as itis," said the stout Englishman, smiling; "things that cut and thrust orgo off with a bang, are not in my way. But if my knuckles are any goodagainst the bridge of a man's nose, they shall henceforth be at yourcountry's service. For the rest, bills of lading and exchanges at thirtydays are more in my line."

  "Ah," said the young Scot, twirling an almost invisible moustache,"commerce I know little of. I was bred to the profession of arms. Mygood father taught me the sword and the pistol, according to thepractice of the best modern schools. Sergeant McPherson, his orderly,gave me instruction in the sabre and bayonet. I was intended for acommission in the 77th, my father's old regiment, when a pecuniary loss,the result of an unfortunate speculation, broke my poor father's heartand sent me out to seek my fortune with no more than Robin Fleeming'ssword and my right arm."

  "Poor capital to start on," said the Englishman, in his bluff manner, ashe examined the article in question; "now you do not happen to write agood round hand, do you?"

  The Scot started and laid his hand on his sword hilt.

  "Sir," he cried, "your avocations do not permit you to understand howgreat an insult you offer to a gentleman!"

  "Oh," said the other, "I don't know at all that you would have suited.Our manager down at Barcelona is a very particular man; but then I wouldhave said a good word for you, and being the owner's son----"

  "Say no more of the matter, I beg of you," said the Scot, haughtily. "Ihave not yet been reduced to the necessity of choosing a mercantilecareer."

  "And that is a most fortunate thing for you," quoth the Englishman, withthe utmost gravity.

  "Eh?" said the Scot, somewhat surprised, and, being occupied with hisown thoughts and with keeping an eye on the door, not exactly taking theEnglishman's meaning, "Oh, you were speaking of a mercantile career.Yes, I am indeed fortunate in that my lines have been cast in pleasanterplaces than before a ream of foolscap on a desk."

  "It pays well, though," said the other placidly.

  "For me, I care nothing for money," said Rollo Blair. "Eh! what isthis?"

  He wheeled round quickly in response to a tap upon his arm, and theEnglishman, looking at him keenly (though apparently intently regardingthe opposite wall), saw him turn visibly paler.

  The landlord was at Master Rollo Blair's elbow with the reckoningwritten out upon a long sheet of paper. A couple of serving men, whowere probably privy to the extravagant total, stood sniggering andwhispering in a neighbouring archway. The Gallegan and his companionssat crossing their legs and gossiping watchfully, darting inquisitiveglances under their brows at their late adversary, to see how he wouldbear himself. Only that noble gentleman, the Old Castilian, sipped hischocolate unmoved, and, with the perfection of good manners, stared atthe fire.

  From red to white, and from white back again to a kind of greenishpaleness, went and came the hues of the young man's complexion. The sonof the house of Blair of Blair was manifestly unhappy. He put his handin one pocket. He clapped another. His purse was not in either.

  "Perchance 'tis in your honour's equipage," suggested the landlordwickedly; "shall I call your body-servant to bring it?"

  It was a face of bitter chagrin that Rollo Blair of Blair lifted to theEnglishman who had meantime never ceased from his study of a fly uponthe wall. He beckoned him a little apart with a look of inimitablechagrin.

  "Sir," he said, "will you buy from me a silver-hilted sword. It was mygrandfather's, and he fought well with it at Killiecrankie. It is thesole article of value I possess----"

  Here a kind of a sob came into his voice. "God knows, I would rathersell my right hand!" he said brusquely.

>   "How came you to run up such a bill, having no effects?" said theEnglishman, looking at him coolly, and taking no notice of the youngman's offer of his weapon, which he continued to hold by the scabbard.

  "I can hardly tell," said the Scot, hanging his head, "but only twonights ago there was a young French lord here who out-faced me first atthe cards and then at the drinking of wine. So I was compelled to orderin more and better to be upsides with him!"

  "There is no meaner ambition, especially on an empty purse," said theEnglishman, not moving from the angle of wall upon which he leaned.

  "Curse me that ever I troubled myself to appeal to a cold-liveredEnglishman!" cried the young man, "I will go to the Castilian overyonder. He looks as if he might have the bowels of a man. At least hewill not palm off a gentleman in distress with moral precepts culledfrom last week's sermon!"

  The Englishman leaped forward and clapped the hot-headed Scot on theshoulder. With the other hand he drew a well-filled wallet, with amercantile calendar slipped into the band, from his pocket.

  "There," he said, heartily, "let me be your banker. 'Tis worth a scoreof reckonings to hear a Scotsman speak disrespectfully of sermons. Myname is John Mortimer----"

  "Of the Mortimers of Plas Gwynedd in Caernarvonshire? Why, mygrandmother was of that----" Rollo Blair was beginning a genealogicaldisquisition with great eagerness when the Englishman stopped him.

  "No," he said, "at least not that I know of. My father made mouse-trapsbefore he took to cotton-spinning, and I never so much as heard whetherI had any grandfather. I am plain John Mortimer of Chorley at yourservice. I think you are an honest lad, sorely led astray by whimsies inthe brain, but you are honest, and in a far land. You are welcome to mypurse and, credit to any reasonable amount which will put you in the wayof repaying your obligation, as I am sure you desire to do."

  "I shall not sleep sound at night till I do," returned the youth,firmly. "But first I desire to inform you that I have had an ill opinionof your nation--an opinion to which, in spite of your great personalkindness and the obligation under which you place me, I am bound toadhere."

  The Englishman nodded carelessly.

  "There speaks an honest man, but also a foolish one!" said Mortimer,shaking his head; "you should try the foreign wine trade for a year ortwo. It is wonderfully curbing to a man's vocabulary!"

  The Scot stood a moment at gaze, manifestly debating with himself.

  "And you will not accept of my sword?" he said. "I assure you it isworth enough to discharge my small liabilities twice over."

  "Swords are not legal tender in the wine business," said the other,smiling, "nor yet when I go home with a knowledge of languages to helpsell my father's grey cloth! You are as welcome as my brother to theloan," he added, "and I promise you I will accept repayment as gladlyfrom you as from him."

  "You make the matter easier indeed," said Rollo Blair, recovering hisspirits with a bound. "Here, landlord, can you change this gold ounce,or is the matter too great a one for your petty venta?"

  The young men had been standing a little back, in the shadow of one ofthe arches, in which were empty mangers and the rings of head-stalls, sothat the patron could not observe the passing of the Englishman's pursefrom hand to hand.

  "Your servant, Senor!" said the innkeeper, no Spaniard, but a French Jewof Roussillon, "what can I have the honour of ordering for yourexcellencies' supper?"

  "Order yourself out of my sight!" cried the Scot imperiously. "We aregoing up to the monastery to dine with my uncle the Abbot!"

  The patron of the venta fell back a couple of steps, and the two servingmen ceased to grin and instead bowed most obsequiously.

  "He is a nephew of the Abbot, perhaps (who knows) his son! There will befine doings out of this night's work, if he tells Don Baltasar all, ashe doubtless will."

  This was the whispered comment of one servitor in the ear of his master.Said the other--

  "Speak him fair, patron, for the love of God! For if the monks areadverse, we are sped. Our pipe is as good as out. And perchance a yetworse thing may happen!"

  And he leaned over till his lips almost touched mine host's ear.

  "My God!" gasped the latter, "what a country! Would that I were safeback again in mine own house with green blinds in Roussillon!"

  The Englishman and the Scot were now walking amicably arm in arm to andfro in front of the inn. The Scot had quite recovered his militarydemeanour, and again twirled his moustache with an air. Thesilver-hilted sword shone no brighter on the morn of Killiecrankie. Theunused spurs tinkled melodiously.

  The landlord stood with his hands deferentially folded. The young mentook not the faintest notice of him, but continued to pace slowly to andfro.

  Mine host of the venta of Montblanch cleared his throat. The Scot cast asingle scornful glance at him, which he caught as a dog catches a bone.

  "My most noble lords," he said, "I trust that the unfortunate occurrenceof this evening will not prevent this house from having your honours'custom in the future, and that you too will say no word of all this tothe most reverend Abbot Don Baltasar!"

  "Make yourself easy on that score," said the Scot; "as soon as we areround the corner we will forget that such a refuge for fleabittenknaves anywhere exists out of Pandemonium!"

  Lower still bowed the obsequious patron, for this was his idea of theway a gentleman should speak to an innkeeper. Abuse showed his quality.

  "Shall I order a carriage to convey your honours up to the Abbey?" saidthe landlord, preparing to take his leave. "I know a patron, who has acoach-and-six!"

  "We will walk on our feet," replied the Scot, no whit abashed, "ah--inpursuance of a vow made at Salamanca!"

  The landlord withdrew, making an obeisance that was almost an orientalsalaam.

  "But is the Abbot really your uncle?" inquired the Englishman, as theyset out.

  "As much as you are," said the Scot, "but all the same we shall dinewith him, or my name is not Rollo Blair of Blair Castle in the shire ofFife!"

  "The Lord send it," said the Englishman devoutly; "perhaps in that casehe will part with his Priorato wine a farthing the gallon cheaper!"