Beverly of Graustark

by George Barr McCutcheon

  CHAPTER V

  THE INN OF THE HAWK AND RAVEN

  Two of the men walked close beside the door, one of them bearing alantern. They conversed in low tones and in a language which Beverlycould not understand. After awhile she found herself analyzing the garband manner of the men. She was saying to herself that here were herfirst real specimens of Graustark peasantry, and they were to mark anineffaceable spot in her memory. They were dark, strong-faced men ofmedium height, with fierce, black eyes and long black hair. As no twowere dressed alike, it was impossible to recognize characteristic stylesof attire. Some were in the rude, baggy costumes of the peasant as shehad imagined him; others were dressed in the tight-fitting butdilapidated uniforms of the soldiery, while several were in clothespartly European and partly Oriental. There were hats and fezzes andcaps, some with feathers In the bands, others without. The man nearestthe coach wore the dirty gray uniform of as army officer, full of holesand rents, while another strode along in a pair of baggy yellow trousersand a dusty London dinner jacket. All in all, it was the motliest bandof vagabonds she had ever seen. There were at least ten or a dozen inthe party. While a few carried swords, all lugged the long rifles andcrooked daggers of the Tartars.

  "Aunt Fanny," Beverly whispered, suddenly moving to the side of thesubdued servant, "where is my revolver?" It had come to her like a flashthat a subsequent emergency should not find her unprepared. Aunt Fanny'sjaw dropped, and her eyes were like white rings in a black screen.

  "Good Lawd--wha--what fo' Miss Bev'ly--"

  "Sh! Don't call me Miss Bev'ly. Now, just you pay 'tention to me andI'll tell you something queer. Get my revolver right away, and don't letthose men see what you are doing." While Aunt Fanny's trembling fingerswent in search of the firearm, Beverly outlined the situation brieflybut explicitly. The old woman was not slow to understand. Her witssharpened by fear, she grasped Beverly's instructions with astonishingavidity.

  "Ve'y well, yo' highness," she said with fine reverence, "Ah'll p'ocuahde bottle o' pepp'mint fo' yo' if yo' jes don' mine me pullin' an'haulin' 'mongst dese boxes. Mebbe yo' all 'druther hab de gingeh?" Withthis wonderful subterfuge as a shield she dug slyly into one of the bagsand pulled forth a revolver. Under ordinary circumstances she would havebeen mortally afraid to touch it, but not so in this emergency. Beverlyshoved the weapon into the pocket of her gray traveling jacket.

  "I feel much better now, Aunt Fanny," she said, and Aunt Fanny gave avast chuckle.

  "Yas, ma'am, indeed,--yo' highness," she agreed, suavely.

  The coach rolled along for half an hour, and then stopped with a suddenjolt. An instant later the tall driver appeared at the window, his headuncovered. A man hard by held a lantern.

  _"Qua vandos ar deltanet, yos serent,"_ said the leader, showinghis white teeth in a triumphant smile. His exposed eye seemed to beglowing with pleasure and excitement.

  "What?" murmured Beverly, hopelessly. A puzzled expression came into hisface. Then his smile deepened and his eye took on a knowing gleam.

  "Ah, I see," he said, gaily, "your highness prefers not to speak thelanguage of Graustark. Is it necessary for me to repeat in English?"

  "I really wish you would," said Beverly, catching her breath. "Just tosee how it sounds, you know."

  "Your every wish shall be gratified. I beg to inform you that we havereached the Inn of the Hawk and Raven. This is where we dwelt lastnight. Tomorrow we, too, abandon the place, so our fortunes may runtogether for some hours, at least. There is but little to offer you inthe way of nourishment, and there are none of the comforts of apalace. Yet princesses can no more be choosers than beggars when thefare's in one pot. Come, your highness, let me conduct you to the guestchamber of the Inn of the Hawk and Raven."

  Beverly took his hand and stepped to the ground, looking about in wonderand perplexity.

  "I see no inn," she murmured apprehensively.

  "Look aloft, your highness. That great black canopy is the roof; we arestanding upon the floor, and the dark shadows just beyond the circle oflight are the walls of the Hawk and Raven. This is the largest tavern inall Graustark. Its dimensions are as wide as the world itself."

  "You mean that there is no inn at all?" the girl cried in dismay.

  "Alas, I must confess it. And yet there is shelter here. Come withme. Let your servant follow." He took her by the hand, and led her awayfrom the coach, a ragged lantern-bearer preceding. Beverly's littleright hand was rigidly clutching the revolver in her pocket. It was acapacious pocket, and the muzzle of the weapon bored defiantly into atimid powder-rag that lay on the bottom. The little leather purse fromwhich it escaped had its silver lips opened as if in a broad grin ofderision, reveling in the plight of the chamois. The guide's hand was atonce firm and gentle, his stride bold, yet easy. His rakish hat, withits aggressive red feather, towered a full head above Beverly's Parisianviolets.

  "Have you no home at all--no house in which to sleep?" Beverly managedto ask.

  "I live in a castle of air," said he, waving his hand gracefully. "Isleep in the house of my fathers."

  "You poor fellow," cried Beverly, pityingly. He laughed and absentlypatted the hilt of his sword.

  She heard the men behind them turning the coach into the glen throughwhich they walked carefully. Her feet fell upon a soft, grassy sward andthe clatter of stones was now no longer heard. They were among theshadowy trees, gaunt trunks of enormous size looming up in the light ofthe lanterns. Unconsciously her thoughts went over to the Forest ofArden and the woodland home of Rosalind, as she had imagined it tobe. Soon there came to her ears the swish of waters, as of someturbulent river hurrying by. Instinctively she drew back and her eyeswere set with alarm upon the black wall of night ahead. Yetive hadspoken more than once of this wilderness. Many an unlucky traveler hadbeen lost forever in its fastnesses.

  "It is the river, your highness. There is no danger. I will not lead youinto it," he said, a trifle roughly. "We are low in the valley and thereare marshes yonder when the river is in its natural bed. The floods havecovered the low grounds, and there is a torrent coming down from thehills. Here we are, your highness. This is the Inn of the Hawk andRaven."

  He bowed and pointed with his hat to the smouldering fire a shortdistance ahead. They had turned a bend in the overhanging cliff, andwere very close to the retreat before she saw the glow.

  The fire was in the open air and directly in front of a deep cleft inthe rocky background. Judging by the sound, the river could not be morethan two hundred feet away. Men came up with lanterns and others piledbrush upon the fire. In a very short time the glen was weirdlyilluminated by the dancing flames. From her seat on a huge log, Beverlywas thus enabled to survey a portion of her surroundings. Theoverhanging ledge of rock formed a wide, deep canopy, underneath whichwas perfect shelter. The floor seemed to be rich, grassless loam, andhere and there were pallets of long grass, evidently the couches ofthese homeless men. All about were huge trees, and in the direction ofthe river the grass grew higher and then gave place to reeds. Thefoliage above was so dense that the moon and stars were invisible. Therewas a deathly stillness in the air. The very loneliness was so appallingthat Beverly's poor little heart was in a quiver of dread. Aunt Fanny,who sat near by, had not spoken since leaving the coach, but her eyeswere expressively active.

  The tall leader stood near the fire, conversing with half a dozen of hisfollowers. Miss Calhoun's eyes finally rested upon this central figurein the strange picture. He was attired in a dark-gray uniform thatreminded her oddly of the dragoon choruses in the comic operas athome. The garments, while torn and soiled, were well-fitting. Hisshoulders were broad and square, his hips narrow, his legs long andstraight. There was an air of impudent grace about him that went wellwith his life and profession. Surely, here was a careless freelance uponwhom life weighed lightly, while death "stood afar off" anddespaired. The light of the fire brought his gleaming face into boldrelief, for his hat was off. Black and thick was his hair, rumpled andapparently uncared for.
The face was lean, smooth and strong, with adevil-may-care curve at the corners of the mouth. Beverly found herselflamenting the fact that such an interesting face should be marred by anugly black patch, covering she knew not what manner of defect. As forthe rest of them, they were a grim company. Some were young andbeardless, others were old and grizzly, but all were active, alert andstrong. The leader appeared to be the only one in the party who couldspeak and understand the English language. As Beverly sat and watchedhis virile, mocking face, and studied his graceful movements, she foundherself wondering how an ignorant, homeless wanderer in the hills couldbe so poetic and so cultured as this fellow seemed to be.

  Three or four men, who were unmistakably of a lower order than theircompanions, set about preparing a supper. Others unhitched the tiredhorses and led them off toward the river. Two dashing young fellowscarried the seat-cushions under the rocky canopy and constructed anelaborate couch for the "Princess." The chief, with his own hands, soonbegan the construction of a small chamber in this particular corner ofthe cave, near the opening. The walls of the chamber were formed ofcarriage robes and blankets, cloaks and oak branches.

  "The guest chamber, your highness," he said, approaching her with asmile at the conclusion of his work.

  "It has been most interesting to watch you," she said, rising.

  "And it has been a delight to interest you," he responded. "You willfind seclusion there, and you need see none of us until it pleases you."

  She looked him fairly in the eye for a moment, and then impulsivelyextended her hand. He clasped it warmly, but not without some show ofsurprise.

  "I am trusting you implicitly," she said.

  "The knave is glorified," was his simple rejoinder. He conducted her tothe improvised bed-chamber, Aunt Fanny following with loyal butuncertain tread. "I regret, your highness, that the conveniences are sofew. We have no landlady except Mother Earth, no waiters, no porters, nomaids, in the Inn of the Hawk and Raven. This being a men's hotel, thebaths are on the river-front. I am having water brought to yourapartments, however, but it is with deepest shame and sorrow that Iconfess we have no towels."

  She laughed so heartily that his face brightened perceptibly, whilst thefaces of his men turned in their direction as though by concert.

  "It is a typical mountain resort, then," she said, "I think I can managevery well if you will fetch my bags to my room, sir."

  "By the way, will you have dinner served in your room?" verygood-humoredly.

  "If you don't mind, I'd like to eat in the public dining-room," saidshe. A few minutes later Beverly was sitting upon one of her smalltrunks and Aunt Fanny was laboriously brushing her dark hair.

  "It's very jolly being a princess," murmured Miss Calhoun. She hadbathed her face in one of the leather buckets from the coach, and thedust of the road had been brushed away by the vigorous lady-in-waiting.

  "Yas, ma'am, Miss--yo' highness, hit's monstrous fine fo' yo', but wharis Ah goin' to sleep? Out yondah, wif all dose scalawags?" said AuntFanny, rebelliously.

  "You shall have a bed in here, Aunt Fanny," said Beverly.

  "Dey's de queeres' lot o' tramps Ah eveh did see, an' Ah wouldn' trust'em 's fer as Ah could heave a brick house."

  "But the leader is such a very courteous gentleman," remonstratedBeverly.

  "Yas, ma'am; he mussa came f'm Gawgia or Kaintuck," was Aunt Fanny'ssincere compliment.

  The pseudo-princess dined with the vagabonds that night. She sat on thelog beside the tall leader, and ate heartily of the broth and broiledgoatmeat, the grapes and the nuts, and drank of the spring water whichtook the place of wine and coffee and cordial. It was a strange supperamid strange environments, but she enjoyed it as she had never beforeenjoyed a meal. The air was full of romance and danger, and herimagination was enthralled. Everything was so new and unreal that shescarcely could believe herself awake. The world seemed to have gone backto the days of Robin Hood and his merry men.

  "You fare well at the Inn of the Hawk and Raven," she said to him, hervoice tremulous with excitement. He looked mournfully at her for amoment and then smiled naively.

  "It is the first wholesome meal we have had in two days," he replied.

  "You don't mean it!"

  "Yes. We were lucky with the guns to-day. Fate was kind to us--and toyou, for we are better prepared to entertain royalty to-day than at anytime since I have been in the hills of Graustark."

  "Then you have not always lived in Graustark?"

  "Alas, no, your highness. I have lived elsewhere."

  "But you were born in the principality?"

  "I am a subject of its princess in heart from this day forth, but not bybirth or condition. I am a native of the vast domain known to a few ofus as Circumstance," and he smiled rather recklessly.

  "You are a poet, a delicious poet," cried Beverly, forgetting herself inher enthusiasm.

  "Perhaps that is why I am hungry and unshorn. It had not occurred to mein that light. When you are ready to retire, your highness," he said,abruptly rising, "we shall be pleased to consider the Inn of the Hawkand Raven closed for the night. Having feasted well, we should sleepwell. We have a hard day before us. With your consent, I shall place mycouch of grass near your door. I am the porter. You have but to call ifanything is desired."

  She was tired, but she would have sat up all night rather than miss anyof the strange romance that had been thrust upon her. But SirRed-feather's suggestion savored of a command and she reluctantly madeher way to the flapping blanket that marked the entrance to thebed-chamber. He drew the curtain aside, swung his hat low and muttered asoft goodnight.

  "May your highness's dreams be pleasant ones!" he said.

  "Thank you," said she, and the curtain dropped impertinently. "That wasvery cool of him, I must say," she added, as she looked at the waveringdoor.

  When she went to sleep, she never knew; she was certain that her eyeswere rebellious for a long time and that she wondered how her gray dresswould look after she had slept in it all night. She heard low singing asif in the distance, but after a while the stillness became so intensethat its pressure almost suffocated her. The rush of the river grewlouder and louder and there was a swishing sound that died in her earsalmost as she wondered what it meant. Her last waking thoughts were ofthe "black-patch" poet. Was he lying near the door?

  She was awakened in the middle of the night by the violent flapping ofher chamber door. Startled, she sat bolt upright and strained her eyesto pierce the mysterious darkness. Aunt Fanny, on her bed of grass,stirred convulsively, but did not awake. The blackness of the strangechamber was broken ever and anon by faint flashes of light from without,and she lived through long minutes of terror before it dawned upon herthat a thunderstorm was brewing. The wind was rising, and the nightseemed agog with excitement. Beverly crept from her couch and felt herway to the fluttering doorway. Drawing aside the blanket she peeredforth into the night, her heart jumping with terror. Her highness wasvery much afraid of thunder and lightning.

  The fire in the open had died down until naught remained but a fewglowing embers. These were blown into brilliancy by the wind, casting asteady red light over the scene. There was but one human figure insight. Beside the fire stood the tall wanderer. He was hatless andcoatless, and his arms were folded across his chest. Seemingly obliviousto the approach of the storm, he stood staring into the heap of ashes athis feet. His face was toward her, every feature plainly distinguishablein the faint glow from the fire. To her amazement the black patch wasmissing from the eye; and, what surprised her almost to the point ofexclaiming aloud, there appeared to be absolutely no reason for itspresence there at any time. There was no mark or blemish upon or aboutthe eye; it was as clear and penetrating as its fellow, darkly gleamingin the red glow from below. Moreover, Beverly saw that he was strikinglyhandsome--a strong, manly face. The highly imaginative southern girl'smind reverted to the first portraits of Napoleon she had seen.

  Suddenly he started, threw up his head and looking up to th
e sky utteredsome strange words. Then he strode abruptly toward her doorway. She fellback breathless. He stopped just outside, and she knew that he waslistening for sounds from within. After many minutes she stealthilylooked forth again. He was standing near the fire, his back toward her,looking off into the night.

  The wind was growing stronger; the breezes fanned the night into a rushof shivery coolness. Constant flickerings of lightning illuminated theforest, transforming the tree-tops into great black waves. Tall reedsalong the river bank began to bend their tops, to swing themselvesgently to and from the wind. In the lowlands down from the cave "will o'the wisps" played tag with "Jack o' the lanterns," merrily scamperingabout in the blackness, reminding her of the revellers in a famousBrocken scene. Low moans grew out of the havoc, and voices seemed tospeak in unintelligible whispers to the agitated twigs and leaves. Thesecrets of the wind were being spread upon the records of the night;tales of many climes passed through the ears of Nature.

  From gentle undulations the marshland reeds swept into lower dips,danced wilder minuets, lashed each other with infatuated glee, mockingthe whistle of the wind with an angry swish of their tall bodies.Around the cornices of the Inn of the Hawk and Raven scurried thesinging breezes, reluctant to leave a playground so pleasing to thefancy. Soon the night became a cauldron, a surging, hissing, roaringreceptacle in which were mixing the ingredients of disaster. Night-birdsflapped through the moaning tree-tops, in search of shelter; reeds wereflattened to the earth, bowing to the sovereignty of the wind; cloudsroared with the rumble of a million chariots, and then the sky and theearth met in one of those savage conflicts that make all other warfareseem as play.

  As Beverly sank back from the crash, she saw him throw his arms aloft asthough inviting the elements to mass themselves and their energy uponhis head. She shrieked involuntarily and he heard the cry above thecarnage. Instantly his face was turned in her direction.

  "Help! Help!" she cried. He bounded toward the swishing robes andblankets, but his impulse had found a rival in the blast. Like a flashthe walls of the guest chamber were whisked away, scuttling off into thenight or back into the depths of the cavern. With the deluge came theman. From among the stifling robes he snatched her up and bore her away,she knew not whither.