The Red Tavern

by C. R. Macauley

  CHAPTER XXII

  OF HOW ONCE MORE THE YOUNG KNIGHT JOURNEYED SOUTHWARD

  Tyrrell appeared singularly nervous and distraught; and, afterhaving finished with the brewing of the nostrum, was for setting outimmediately upon his journey with Sir Richard to the tavern. Butthe young knight remained firm in his determination not to leave deClaverlok till he was well assured of his ultimate recovery. His great,sinewy frame had been sore racked with fever, Tyrrell told him, and itwould be many weeks ere de Claverlok could be expected to regain hisusual health.

  It was late in the evening when the foot-boy, Harold, returned fromBannockburn with a doctor. This good man was a fat, bulbous-facedperson, wearing a flamboyant badge in the shape of an enormous wartdirectly upon the tip of his nose. He arrived with a tremendous fussand bustle, wheezing so that he was to be heard in every corner of theplace. He subsided upon the instant, however, when he learned that hewas expected to consult with a student of the eminent Linacre.

  Soon he came out to take sup with Tyrrell and Sir Richard in theirlittle hut. When the young knight made haste to inquire as to what casehis friend was in:

  "It doth mightily please me," answered the fat doctor from Bannockburn,"to agree with his worshipful lordship inside ... ahem! I may e'ensay that mine own opinions were exactly one with his ... and him, sirknight, a celebrated student and co-worker with the famous ThomasLinacre, of London; who, as thou dost probably know, doth entertainmany a cunning precept somewhat at variance from the accepted standardsof the older ... and ... well--schools ... ahem! Yet did his worshipfullordship do me the distinguished honor to inform me that my humble ...er ... prognosis was infinitely similar, if not somewhat superior,withal,--an thou'lt permit me to say thus--to that which would havebeen arrived upon by a great many ... er ... practitioners and chymistsof ... ahem! ... London."

  "Gramercy for thy learned opinion," said Sir Richard winking above thedoctor's bald head at the foot-boys. "So! thou'rt of opinion that thegood knight will surely recover?"

  "Ah! assuredly will he. Though in cases of this kind, where the ...ahem!--alimentary passages have become somewhat flabby ... yes ...flabby, I may say, from long disuse (Sir Richard thought of all hisscourings over the hills for goats-milk, goodies, and wine!)--there mayfollow, anon, a more or less ... ahem!--more or less, I say, violentinflammation of the ... er ... esophagus; which, if not immediatelyallayed--but, by the mass, and what a delicious odor is that!"

  Harold, just then, had happily uncovered the simmering kettle.

  "Yes," said Sir Richard, "art hungry, good doctor?"

  "In sooth, an I be not, sir knight, thou mayst call me a fustianshove-groat shilling! marry! marry! and were not such a ride as I'vehad to-day full fatiguing to a gentleman of my avoirdupois?"

  Well, after contemplating the widespread devastation which the amiabledoctor wrought upon the viands set before him, right willingly wouldanyone have yielded to him the palm of gluttony--though it must besaid of Sir Richard that his own appetite was something not below theaverage. And how the man could drink, too! It seemed to Sir Richardthat he would never have done with pouring their hard-fetched wine intohis gullet. He might appropriately have been girded with iron hoops andset aside as a filled hogshead when the last drop trickled within hisvast interior. A flabby esophagus could never have been attributed tothe good doctor, withal.

  But he warmed up famously under the wine's genial influence, andregaled his hosts throughout the evening with many a merry tale. SirRichard misliked him not at all; and, before the good doctor set up histhunderous snoring before the pleasing warmth of the blaze, the youngknight had secured his promise to remain with de Claverlok till he wassafe on the road to health. It may be said further, too, that he was againer of the half of Sir Richard's remaining nobles because of thebargain.

  The young knight passed a sleepless night, interspersed with fancifuldreams wrought around the circumstance of his new-discovered ancestry.He seemed to be always alone and lonely, sitting upon a lofty eminence,with a ray of dazzling white light, ever broadening, sweeping fromwhere he sat into illimitable space. The vast area thus brilliantlyillumined ever seemed peopled with a countless multitude of kneelingbeings; reminding him of the glimmering sun of evening lying softlyupon the woolly backs of innumerable sheep.

  It chanced that Sir Richard was the last member of their littlecompany to be abroad the next morning, and when he came out into thesunshine Harold and Thomas, who had been whispering together, droppedin concert to their knees. Then Sir James Tyrrell, now more than everbent and gray looking, drew toward him, limping around the cornerof the sick knight's hut. He bowed to Sir Richard after a grave andcourtly fashion, and, when the young knight extended his hand, salutedit deferentially with his lips. Not anyone could have been more abjectin his obsequiousness than the fat doctor from Bannockburn. He beggedSir Richard but to lay some command upon him so that he might giveproof of his devotion to his cause and person. To the young knight itseemed to be the beginning of the fulfillment of his visions. Onlygood de Claverlok and unconquerable Isabel remained the same; thewhich resulted in Sir Richard deriving the greater pleasure from theircompanionship.

  All of the while it was to be remarked that shrewd Tyrrell's eyes bentclose upon Sir Richard's every action. By reaching out to him a tasteof sovereignty, he felt that he was tempting him to desire it in agreater portion.

  Sir Richard divined that it was to be a silent duel between them;and he was bound to confess to himself that he was already becomingconscious of the tightening of the net about him. He was becomingfearful that the master politician might win.

  It was like a transitory release from the clutch of an unseen, ironhand to get within the larger hut and enjoy a talk with de Claverlokand Isabel. Though still pitifully weak, it was clearly to be seenthat Sir Richard's faithful friend and squire was now leaving hisillness behind him.

  "Think well and deeply, boy, before deciding upon thy course," headvised Sir Richard when he arose to take leave of him. "'Tis no smallthing to hurl a great power at a sleeping, peaceful nation; therebyto embroil it in bloody strife and dissensions ... eh. But, once thypath be laid, follow it without halt or deviation to the end. Thus letme say," he added, taking the young knight's hand, "'twill be a rightbrave day for England when thy consent be won to sit upon her throne."

  "But, whatever I do, de Claverlok, and whereever I go," Sir Richardsaid, "your own good self shall sure be with me."

  "Within this very hovel, Sir Richard, we will await thy furthercommand," he replied.

  "Sir Richard!" Isabel called to the young knight as he was about tostep to the door. "Take this bit packet," she said, handing him thesmallest of parcels. "Guard it next thy heart till thou hast reachedinto the Forest of Lammermuir--then, thou mayst open it. But remember,boy, not before! And now," she added, standing a-tiptoe, "I'll kissthee a good-bye ... one for myself--one for Lionel. Thou art a brave,good youth, Sir Richard."

  There were tears in the young knight's eyes when he stepped outside thehut ready to start with Tyrrell, who was on horse and waiting, upontheir journey.

  Sir Richard was surprised to discover that Harold's jennet was trappedand standing beside his saddled stallion. When he inquired what itmeant, the foot-boy went on his knees before him and besought the youngknight to permit him to become his lowly squire. When Sir Richardinquired of him what Thomas intended doing, the foot-boy informed himthat his mate had sought a like service with de Claverlok.

  "Then get off your knees," Sir Richard told him, "and come along; or,by the mass! I'll have the broad of my sword this moment at your hinderquarters."

  Whereupon they mounted and started for the road. Sir Richard lookedseveral times over his shoulder-piece; and always his backward glancewould be met by a waving of Isabel's lace scarf in the doorway, andtwo profound bows from in front of the smaller hut. 'Twas a sight wellworth seeing--that awkward curtsy of the fat doctor from Bannockburn.

  They were perforce obliged to travel slowly, as Ty
rrell's infirmitiesseemed fast growing upon him. From the drawn and haggard look of histhin countenance it could plainly be seen that he was in constant andextreme pain. Moreover, Sir Richard noted that by now he had ceasedattributing his sufferings to the tortures to which he had been putin Castle Yewe. Times he would be seized with a fit of coughing of soviolent a nature that Sir Richard bethought him it might well haveshattered his very insides.

  Then, for the space of two days, a most unpleasant transition ofweathers set in upon them, marked by incessant and dense fogs, heavyrains and sharp, driving flurries of snow. So alarmingly was Tyrrell'ssickness increasing that upon the morning of the fourth day, itappeared impossible that he would have sufficient strength longerto sit horse. Sir Richard begged him to stay within the herdsman'scottage, where they had stopped for the night, till he had riddenahead to summon help. But Tyrrell stubbornly refused to listen to theyoung knight's entreaties.

  That day had broken bright, was almost balmy, and brilliantly clear,the gray storm-pall having rolled seaward during the night.

  "'Twill be a salve to my sore lungs, sire ... this blessed warmth,"Tyrrell said to Sir Richard, lifting his nose into the thin air as hetottered upon the young knight's arm toward his waiting barb.

  With Harold's assistance Sir Richard contrived to seat Tyrrell uponhis horse; though it was no easy task, all encumbered as he was in theheaviest of armor.

  "Put hand upon my shoulder, man," Sir Richard said to him after theyhad started, riding close to his side.

  "Without aid have I come through life ... alone I'll sit till I fall... sire," Tyrrell answered gloomily.

  "An you call me king rightfully," said Sir Richard sternly, "put handon my shoulder ... 'tis a command!"

  Tyrrell turned upon the young knight a wan smile and then capitulated.

  "Now thou art becoming an apt pupil ... sire," he answered in a whisper.

  By now they were riding along a part of the Sauchieburn Pass withwhich Sir Richard was not familiar. It was that portion stretchingnorthward from the point where he had left it to give battle with theRenegade Duke. The country here was more thickly populated than anythrough which they had passed. Drawing upon a high eminence, the threetravelers could see the smoke from many chimney-tops curling above thedowns. Away to the left was a cluster of cottages, surmounted by thesteeple of a church. A good two leagues ahead could be distinguishedthat which appeared to be an inn standing alone against the roadside.

  Like a yellow and much broken ribbon the highway fell away from theirfeet, threading in wide, sweeping curves along the narrow, windingvalley. Upon this roadway, and appearing and disappearing with itaround the bases of the hills, a company of armed horsemen was riding.

  For some time the weight of Tyrrell's body had been bearing momentarilymore heavily against that of Sir Richard. It could be noted that hiseyes had lost a great measure of their accustomed brilliancy, and thathis breaths were coming thick and painfully labored. Sir Richard leanedtoward him and told him of the approaching horsemen.

  "Canst decipher the colors beneath which they ride?" Tyrrell askedweakly.

  "Methinks I can but just make me out a device in sable upon a fieldgules. The banners do so flutter in the wind," Sir Richard added, "thatI cannot guess its form."

  "Sable upon gules," Tyrrell whispered, without raising his head. "Theyare thine own good men ... sire."

  As they drew within easy distance Sir Richard recognized them to be apart of the company of knights who had bivouaced around the pavilion ofpurple and black. When the approaching company made out who the threehorsemen were they set up a great shouting, driving down upon them withwaving swords and lances. They grew quiet upon the instant, however,when they observed that their leader, Sir James Tyrrell, lifted not hishead, and bore in around him with grave and apprehensive faces.

  Suddenly, then, and with a supreme effort of will, Tyrrell straightenedhis tall, gaunt form upon his saddle, scowling meanwhile withdeep-knitted brows upon the circle of grim warriors gathered about him.Sir Richard noted still the pitiful half-haze upon his eyes.

  "Knights," he cried, in a deep and penetrating voice; "I have kept myvows to thee. Here, now, I bring thee thy leader--Sir Richard Rohan,Earl of Warwick; Son of Edward, Duke of Clarence"--he swayed so itseemed that he must surely fall. Then, raising himself with that whichseemed to be a superhuman effort high upon his stirrups: "I acclaimthis young knight, before all the world, _King Richard IV_!" heshouted, and pitched forward, inert, insensible, into the arms of oneof his men.

  Right tenderly did they bear him down the hill till they came to thetavern which Sir Richard had glimpsed from the promontory but a shortwhile gone.

  "'Tis an inflammation of the pleura," he whispered to Sir Richard whenthe young knight was standing beside his bed within a small room ofthe tavern. "'Tis a dangerous sickness ... God wot, an I may or maynot survive, sire, to witness the fruition of all my labors. But thetorch is now ready trimmed, awaiting but the application of the spark.Grant me the boon of thy promise to continue on thy journey to the RedTavern. Lord Bishop Kennedy shall soon seek thee there. In him thoucanst repose the utmost confidence; I yield thee into his hands. Givethee adieu, sire," he whispered, saluting Sir Richard's outstretchedhand with his feverish lips.

  The dim passageway outside the small room in which Tyrrell had beendisposed was filled with the low humming of voices, a subdued sound ofclanking swords and the pale gleamings of points of light on polishedarmor. As Sir Richard stepped through the door, these solemn-visagedknights moved silently against the wall and balustrade, thus openinghim an avenue down the stairs. They made him obeisance, one by one, ashe passed between; each whispering him a princely name and title, thewhich sang loud in the young knight's ears of the fame of many valorousdeeds long since set down in history.

  A round dozen of them followed him upon the highway, intending to givehim safe conduct to his destination. Experiencing an intense longingto be alone, however, Sir Richard summoned courage to decline theirproffered services, and thereupon set his stallion's head again towardthe Red Tavern with none but Harold in his train.