The Story of Francis Cludde

by Stanley John Weyman

  CHAPTER XIII.

  A WILLFUL MAN'S WAY.

  Only to feel that we were moving was a relief, though our march wasvery slow. Master Bertie carried the child slung in a cloak beforehim, and, thus burdened, could not well go beyond a smooth amble,while the guides, who were on foot, and the pack-horses, found thispace as much as they could manage. A little while and the exhilarationof the start died away. The fine morning was followed by a wetevening, and before we had left Emmerich three miles behind us MasterBertie and I had come to look at one another meaningly. We were movingin a dreary, silent procession through heavy rain, with the prospectof the night closing in early. The road, too, grew more heavy witheach furlong, and presently began to be covered with pools of water.We tried to avoid this inconvenience by resorting to the hill slopeson our left, but found the attempt a waste of time, as a deep streamor backwater, bordered by marshes, intervened. The narrow road, raisedbut little above the level of the swiftly flowing river on our right,turned out to be our only possible path; and when Master Bertiediscerned this his face grew more and more grave.

  We soon found, indeed, as we plodded along, that a sheet of water,which palely reflected the evening light, was taking the place of theroad; and through this we had to plash and plash at a snail's pace,one of the guides on a pack-horse leading the way, and Master Bertiein charge of his wife coming next; then, at some distance, for herhorse did not take kindly to the water, the younger woman followed inmy care. The other guide brought up the rear. In this way, stoppedconstantly by the fears of the horses, which were scared by theexpanse of flood before them, we crept wearily on until the moon rose.It brought, alas, an access of light, but no comfort! The water seemedcontinually to grow deeper, the current on our right swifter; and eachmoment I dreaded the announcement that farther advance was impossible.

  It seemed to have come to that at last, for I saw the Duchess and herhusband stop and stand waiting for me, their dark shadows projectedfar over the moonlit surface.

  "What is to be done?" Master Bertie called out, as we moved up tothem. "The guide tells me that there is a broken piece of road infront which will be impassable with this depth of water."

  I had expected to hear this; yet I was so dumfoundered--for, thisbeing true, we were lost indeed--that for a time I could not answer.No one had uttered a word of reproach, but I knew what they must bethinking. I had brought them to this. It was my foolish insistence haddone it. The poor beast under me shivered. I struck him with my heels."We must go forward!" I said desperately. "Or what? What do you think?Go back?"

  "Steady! steady, Master Knight Errant!" the Duchess cried in her calm,brave voice. "I never knew you so bad a counselor before!"

  "It is my fault that you are here," I said, looking dismally around.

  "Perhaps the other road is as bad," Master Bertie replied. "At anyrate, that is past and gone. The question is, what are we to do now?To remain here is to die of cold and misery. To go back may be to runinto the enemy's arms. To go forward----"

  "Will be to be drowned!" Mistress Anne cried with a pitiful sob.

  I could not blame her. A more gloomy outlook than ours, as we sat onour jaded horses in the middle of this waste of waters, which appearedin the moonlight to be boundless, could scarcely be imagined. Thenight was cold for the time of year, and the keen wind pierced ourgarments and benumbed our limbs. At any moment the rain might beginafresh, and the moon be overcast. Of ourselves, we could not take astep without danger, and our guides had manifestly lost their headsand longed only to return.

  "Yet, I am for going forward," the Duchess urged. "If there be butthis one bad place we may pass it with care."

  "We may," her husband assented dubiously. "But suppose when we havepassed it we can go no farther. Suppose the----"

  "It is no good supposing!" she retorted with some sharpness. "Let uscross this place first, Richard, and we will deal with the other whenwe come to it."

  He nodded assent, and we moved slowly forward, compelling the guidesto go first. In this order we waded some hundred yards through water,which grew deeper with each step, until it rose nearly to our girths.Then the lads stopped.

  "Are we over?" said the Duchess eagerly.

  For answer one of them pointed to the flood before him, and peeringforward I made out a current sweeping silently and swiftly across ourpath--a current with an ominous rush and swirl.

  "Over?" grunted Master Bertie. "No, this is the place. See, the roadhas given way, and the stream is pouring through from the river. Iexpect it is getting worse every minute as the banks crumble."

  We all craned forward, looking at it. It was impossible to say howdeep the water was, or how far the deep part might extend. And we hadwith us a child and two women.

  "We must go back!" said Master Bertie resolutely. "There is no doubtabout it. The flood is rising. If we do not take care, we shall be cutoff, and be able to go neither backward nor forward. I cannot see afoot of dry land, as it is, before or behind us."

  He was right. Far and wide, wherever our eyes could reach, themoonlight was reflected in a sheet of water. We were nearly up to ourgirths in water. On one side was the hurrying river, on the other werethe treacherous depths of the backwater. I asked the guide as well asI could whether the road was good beyond. He answered that he did notknow. He and his companion were so terrified that we only kept thembeside us by threats.

  "I fear we must go back," I said, assenting sorrowfully.

  Even the Duchess agreed, and we were in the act of turning toretrace our steps with what spirit we might, when a distant soundbrought us all to a standstill again. The wind was blowing from thequarter whence we had come--from Emmerich; and it brought to us thesound of voices. We all stopped to listen. Yes, they were voices weheard--loud, strident tones, mingled now with the sullen plash ofhorses tramping through the water. I looked at the Duchess. Her facewas pale, but her courage did not fail her. She understood in a tricethat the danger we had so much dreaded was upon us--that we werefollowed, and the followers were at our heels; and she turned herhorse round again. Without a word she spurred it back toward the deeppart. I seized Anne's rein and followed, notwithstanding that the poorgirl in her terror would have resisted. Letting the guides go as theypleased, we four in a moment found ourselves abreast again, our horsescraning over the stream, while we, with whip and spur, urged them on.

  In cold blood we should scarcely have done it. Indeed, for a minute,as our steeds stumbled, and recovered themselves, and slid forward,only to draw back trembling--as the water rose above our boots or wasflung by our fellows in our eyes, and all was flogging and scramblingand splashing, it seemed as if we were to be caught in a trap despiteour resolve. But at last Master Bertie's horse took the plunge. Hiswife's followed; and both, partly floundering and partly swimming, setforward snorting the while in fear. To my joy I saw them emerge safelynot ten yards away, and, shaking themselves, stand comparatively highout of the water.

  "Come!" cried my lady imperatively, as she turned in her saddle with agesture of defiance. "Come! It is all right."

  Come, indeed! I wanted nothing better, for I was beside myself withpassion. But, flog as I might, I could not get Anne's brute to takethe plunge. The girl herself could give me no aid; clinging to hersaddle, pale and half-fainting, she could only beg me to leave her,crying out again and again in a terrified voice that she would bedrowned. With her cry there suddenly mingled another, the hail of ourpursuers as they sighted us. I could hear them drawing nearer, and Igrew desperate. Luckily they could not make any speed in water sodeep, and time was given me for one last furious effort. It succeeded.My horse literally fell into the stream; it dragged Anne's after it.How we kept our seats, how they their footing, I never understood;but, somehow, splashing and stumbling and blinded by the water dashedin our faces, we came out on the other side, where the Duchess and herhusband, too faithful to us to save themselves, had watched thestruggle in an agony of suspense. I did bu
t fling the girl's rein toMaster Bertie; and then I wheeled my horse to the stream again. I hadmade up my mind what I must do. "Go on," I cried, waving my hand witha gesture of farewell. "Go on! I can keep them here for a while."

  "Nonsense!" I heard the Duchess cry, her voice high and shrill. "Itis----"

  "Go on!" I cried. "Go on! Do not lose a moment, or it will beuseless."

  Master Bertie hesitated. But he too saw that this was the only chance.The Spaniards were on the brink of the stream now, and must, if theypassed it, overtake us easily. He hesitated, I have said, for amoment. Then he seized his wife's rein and drew her on, and I heardthe three horses go splashing away through the flood. I threw aglance at them over my shoulder, bethinking me that I had not toldthe Duchess my story, and that Sir Anthony and Petronilla wouldnever--but, pish! What was I thinking of? That was a thought for awoman. I had only to harden my heart now, and set my teeth together.My task was very simple indeed. I had just to keep these men--therewere four--here as long as I could, and if possible to stop Clarence'spursuit altogether.

  For I had made no mistake. The first man to come up wasClarence--Clarence himself. He let fall a savage word as his horsestopped suddenly with its fore feet spread out on the edge of thestream, and his dark face grew darker as he saw the swirling eddies,and me standing fronting him in the moonlight with my sword out. Hediscerned at once, I think, the strength of my position. Where I stoodthe water was scarcely over my horse's fetlocks. Where he stood it wasover his horse's knees. And between us it flowed nearly four feetdeep.

  He held a hasty parley with his companions. And then he hailed me."Will you surrender?" he cried in English. "We will give you quarter."

  "Surrender? To whom?" I said. "And why--why should I surrender? Areyou robbers and cutpurses?"

  "Surrender in the name of the Emperor, you fool!" he answered sternlyand roughly.

  "I know nothing about the Emperor!" I retorted. "What Emperor?"

  "In the Queen's name, then!"

  "The Duke of Cleves is queen here!" I cried. "And as the flood isrising," I added scornfully, "I would advise you to go home again."

  "You would advise, would you? Who _are_ you?" he replied, in a kind ofwrathful curiosity.

  I gave him no answer. I have often since reflected, with a fullerknowledge of certain facts, that no stranger interview ever took placethan this short colloquy between us, that no stranger fight ever wasfought than that which we contemplated as we stood there bathed in theMay moonlight, with the water all round us, and the cold sky above. Astrange fight indeed it would have been between him and me, had itever come to the sword's point!

  But this was what happened. His last words had scarcely rung out whenmy horse began to quiver under me and sway backward and forward. I hadjust time to take the alarm, when the poor beast sank down and rolledgently over, leaving me bestriding its body, my feet in the water.Whatever the cause of this, I had to disentangle myself, and thatquickly, for the four men opposite me, seeing me dismounted, plungedwith a cry of triumph into the water, and began to flounder across.Without more ado I stepped forward to keep the ford.

  The foremost and nearest to me was Clarence, whose horse began,half-way across, to swim. It was still scrambling to regain itsfooting when it came within my reach, and I slashed it cruelly acrossthe nostrils. It turned in an instant on its side. I saw the rider'sface gleam white in the water; his stirrup shone a moment as the horserolled over, then in a second the two were gone down the stream. Itwas done so easily, so quickly, it amazed me. One gone! hurrah! Iturned quickly to the others, who were about landing. My blood wasfired, and my yell of victory, as I dashed at them, scared back two ofthe horses. Despite their riders' urging, they turned and scrambledout on the side from which they had entered. Only one was left, thefarthest from me. He got across indeed. Yet he was the most unlucky ofall, for his horse stumbled on landing, came down heavily on its head,and flung him at my very feet.

  I LUNGED TWICE AT THE RIDER]

  It was no time for quarter--I had to think of my friends--and whilewith one hand I seized the flying rein as the horse scrambledtrembling to its feet, with the other I lunged twice at the rider ashe half tried to rise, half tried to grasp at me. The second time Iran him through, and he screamed shrilly. In those days I was youngand hotheaded, and I answered only by a shout of defiance, as I flungmyself into the saddle and dashed away through the water after myfriends.

  _V[oe] victis!_ I had done enough to check the pursuit, and had yetescaped myself. If I could join the others again, what a triumph itwould be! I had no guide, but neither had those in front of me; andluckily at this point a row of pollard willows defined the linebetween the road and the river. Keeping this on my right, I made goodway. The horse seemed strong under me, the water was shallow, andappeared to be growing more so, and presently across the waste offlood I discerned before me a dark, solitary tower, the towerseemingly of a church, for it was topped by a stumpy spire, whichdaylight would probably have shown to be of wood.

  There was a little dry ground round the church, a mere patch in a seaof water, but my horse rang its hoofs on it with every sign of joy,and arched its neck as it trotted up to the neighborhood of thechurch, whinnying with pleasure. From the back of the building, I wasnot surprised, came an answering neigh. As I pulled up, a man, hisweapon in his hand, came from the porch, and a woman followed him. Icalled to them gayly. "I fancied you would be here the moment I sawthe church!" I said, sliding to the ground.

  "Thank Heaven you are safe!" the Duchess answered, and to myastonishment she flung her arms round my neck and kissed me. "What hashappened?" she asked, looking in my eyes, her own full of tears.

  "I think I have stopped them," I answered, turning suddenly shy,though, boylike, I had been longing a few minutes before to talk of myvictory. "They tried to cross, and----"

  I had not sheathed my sword. Master Bertie caught my wrist, and,lifting the blade, looked at it. "So, so!" he said nodding. "Are youhurt?"

  "Not touched!" I answered. Before more was said he compelled his wifeto go back into the porch. The wind blew keenly across the openground, and we were all wet and shivering. When we had fastened up thehorse we followed her. The door of the church was locked, it seemed,and the porch afforded the best shelter to be had. Its upper part wasof open woodwork, and freely admitted the wind; but wide eavesprojected over these openings, and over the door, so that at least itwas dry within. By huddling together on the floor against the windwardside we got some protection. I hastily told what had happened.

  "So Clarence is gone!" My lady's voice as she said the words trembled,but not in sorrow or pity as I judged. Rather in relief. Her dread andhatred of the man were strange and terrible, and so seemed to me then.Afterward, I learned that something had passed between them which madealmost natural such feelings on her part, and made natural also abitter resentment on his. But of that no more. "You are quite sure,"she said--pressing me anxiously for confirmation--"that it was he!"

  "Yes. But I am not sure that he is dead," I explained.

  "You seem to bear a charmed life yourself," she said.

  "Hush!" cried her husband quickly. "Do not say that to the lad. It isunlucky. But do you think," he continued--the porch was in darkness,and we could scarcely make out one another's faces--"that there is anyfurther chance of pursuit?"

  "Not by that party to-night," I said grimly. "Nor I think to-morrow."

  "Good!" he answered. "For I can see nothing but water ahead, and itwould be madness to go on by night without a guide. We must stay hereuntil morning, whatever the risk."

  He spoke gloomily--and with reason. Our position was a miserable,almost a desperate one, even on the supposition that pursuit hadceased. We had lost all our baggage, food, wraps. We had no guides,and we were in the midst of a flooded country, with two tender womenand a baby, our only shelter the porch of God's house. Mistress Anne,who was crouching in the darkest corner next the church, seemed tohave collapsed entirely. I remembered afterward that I d
id not oncehear her speak that night. The Duchess tried to maintain our spiritsand her own; but in the face of cold, damp, and hunger, she could dolittle. Master Bertie and I took it by turns to keep a kind of watch,but by morning--it was a long night and a bitter one--we were wornout, and slept despite our misery. We should have been surprised andcaptured without a blow if the enemy had come upon us then.

  I awoke with a start to find the gray light of a raw misty morningfalling upon and showing up our wretched group. The Duchess's head washidden in her cloak; her husband's had sunk on his breast; butMistress Anne--I looked at her and shuddered. Had she sat so allnight? Sat staring with that stony face of pain, and those tearlesseyes on the moonlight, on the darkness which had been before the dawn,on the cold first rays of morning? Stared on all alike, and seen none?I shuddered and peered at her, alarmed, doubtful, wondering, askingmyself what this was that had happened to her. Had fear and coldkilled her, or turned her brain? "Anne!" I said timidly. "Anne!"

  She did not answer nor turn; nor did the fixed gaze of her eyes waver.I thought she did not hear. "Anne!" I cried again, so loudly that theDuchess stirred, and muttered something in her sleep. But the girlshowed no sign of consciousness. I put out my hand and touched her.

  She turned sharply and saw me, and in an instant drew her skirt awaywith a gesture of such dread, loathing repulsion as froze me; while aviolent shudder convulsed her whole frame. Afterward she seemed unableto withdraw her eyes from me, but sat in the same attitude, gazing atme with a fixed look of horror, as one might gaze at a serpent, whiletremor after tremor shook her.

  I was frightened and puzzled, and was still staring at her, wonderingwhat I had done, when a footstep fell on the road outside and calledaway my attention. I turned from her to see a man's figure loomingdark in the doorway. He looked at us--I suppose he had found thehorses outside--gazing in surprise at the queer group. I bade himgood-morning in Dutch, and he answered as well as his astonishmentwould let him. He was a short, stout fellow, with a big face, capableof expressing a good deal of astonishment. He seemed to be a peasantor farmer. "What do you here?" he continued, his guttural phrasestolerably intelligible to me.

  I explained as clearly as I could that we were on the way to Wesel.Then I awoke the Duchess and her husband, and stretching our chilledand aching limbs, we went outside, the man still gazing at us. Alas!the day was not much better than the night. We could see but a verylittle way, a couple of hundred yards round us only. The rest wasmist--all mist. We appealed to the man for food and shelter, and henodded, and, obeying his signs rather than his words, we kicked up ourstarved beasts and plodded out into the fog by his side. Anne mountedsilently and without objection, but it was plain that somethingstrange had happened to her. Her condition was unnatural. The Duchessgazed at her very anxiously, and, getting no answers, or very scantyones, to her questions, shook her head gravely.

  But we were on the verge of one pleasure at least. When we reached thehospitable kitchen of the farmhouse it was joy indeed to stand beforethe great turf fire, and feel the heat stealing into our half-frozenbodies; to turn and warm back and front, while the good wife set breadand hot milk before us. How differently we three felt in half an hour!How the Duchess's eyes shone once more! How easily rose the laugh toour lips! Joy had indeed come with the morning. To be warm and dry andwell fed after being cold and wet and hungry--what a thing this is!

  But on one neither food nor warmth seemed to have any effect. MistressAnne did, indeed, in obedience to my lady's sharp words, raise herbowl to her lips. But she set it down quickly and sat looking in dullapathy at the glowing peat. What had come over her?

  Master Bertie went out with the farmer to attend to the horses, andwhen he came back he had news.

  "There is a lad here," he said in some excitement, "who has just seenthree foreigners ride past on the road, along with two Germans onpack-horses; five in all. They must be three of the party who followedus yesterday."

  I whistled. "Then Clarence got himself out," I said, shrugging myshoulders. "Well! well!"

  "I expect that is so," Master Bertie answered, the Duchess remainingsilent. "The question arises again, what is to be done?" he continued."We may follow them to Wesel, but the good man says the floods aredeep between here and the town, and we shall have Clarence and hisparty before us all the way--shall perhaps run straight into theirarms."

  "But what else can we do?" I said. "It is impossible to go back."

  We held a long conference, and by much questioning of our host learnedthat half a league away was a ferry-boat, which could carry as many astwo horses over the river at a time. On the farther side we might hita road leading to Santon, three leagues distant. Should we go toSanton after all? The farmer thought the roads on that side of theriver might not be flooded. We should then be in touch once more withour Dutch friends and might profit by Master Lindstrom's advice, onwhich I for one was now inclined to set a higher value.

  "The river is bank full. Are you sure the ferry-boat can cross?" Iasked.

  Our host was not certain. And thereupon an unexpected voice struck in.

  "Oh, dear, do not let us run any more risks!" it said. It was MistressAnne's. She was herself again, trembling, excited, bright-eyed; asdifferent as possible from the Anne of a few minutes before. A greatchange had come over her. Perhaps the warmth had done it.

  A third course was suggested, to stay quietly where we were. Thefarmhouse stood at some little distance from the road; and though itwas rough--it was very rough, consisting only of two rooms, in one ofwhich a cow was stalled--still it could furnish food and shelter. Whynot stay there?

  But the Duchess wisely, I think, decided against this. "It isunpleasant to go wandering again," she said with a shiver. "But Ishall not rest until we are within the walls of a town. MasterLindstrom laid so much stress on that. And I fancy that the party whoovertook us last night are not the main body. Others will have gone toWesel by boat perhaps, or along the other bank. There they will meet,and, learning we have not arrived, they will probably return this wayand search for us."

  "Clarence----"

  "Yes, if we have Clarence to deal with," Master Bertie assentedgravely, "we cannot afford to lose a point. We will try the ferry."

  It was something gained to start dry and warm. But the women's palefaces--for little by little the fatigue, the want of rest, the fear,were telling even on the Duchess--were sad to see. I was sore andstiff myself. The wound I had received so mysteriously had bledafresh, probably during last night's fight. We needed all our courageto put a brave face on the matter, and bear up and go out again intothe air, which for the first week in May was cold and nipping.Suspense and anxiety had told in various ways on all of us. While Ifelt a fierce anger against those who were driving us to thesestraits. Master Bertie was nervous and excited, alarmed for his wifeand child, and inclined to see an enemy in every bush.

  However, we cheered up a little when we reached the ferry and foundthe boat could cross without much risk. We had to go over in twodetachments, and it was nearly an hour past noon before we all stoodon the farther bank and bade farewell to the honest soul whose helphad been of so much importance to us. He told us we had three leaguesto go, and we hoped to be at rest in Santon by four o'clock.

  But the three leagues turned out to be more nearly five, while theroad was so founderous that we had again and again to quit it.

  The evening came on, the light waned, and still we were feeling ourway, so to speak--the women tired and on the verge of tears; the menmuddy to the waist, savage, and impatient. It was eight o'clock, anddusk was well upon us before we caught sight of the first lights ofSanton, and in fear lest the gates might be shut, pressed forward atsuch speed as our horses could compass.

  "Do you go on!" the Duchess adjured us. "Anne and I will be safeenough behind you. Let me take the child, and do you ride on. Wecannot pass the night in the fields."

  The importance of securing admission was so great that Master Bertieand I agreed; and cantered on, s
oon outstripping our companions, andalmost in the gloom losing sight of them. Dark masses of woods, thelast remnants, apparently, of a forest, lay about the road we had totraverse. We were passing one of these, scarcely three hundred pacesshort of the town, and I was turning in the saddle to see that theladies were following safely, when I heard Master Bertie, who was abow-shot in front of me, give a sudden cry.

  I wheeled round hastily to learn the reason, and was just in time tosee three horsemen sweep into the road before him from the cover ofthe trees. They were so close to him--and they filled the road--thathis horse carried him amongst them almost before he could check it, orso it seemed to me. I heard their loud challenge, saw his arm wave,and guessed that his sword was out. I spurred desperately to join him,giving a wild shout of encouragement as I did so. But before I couldcome up, or indeed cross half the distance, the scuffle was over. Oneman fell headlong from his saddle, one horse fled riderless down theroad, and at sight of this, or perhaps of me, the others turned tailwithout more ado and made off, leaving Master Bertie in possession ofthe field. The whole thing had passed in the shadow of the wood inless than half a minute. When I drew rein by him he was sheathing hissword. "Is it Clarence?" I cried eagerly.

  "No, no; I did not see him. I think not," he answered. He wasbreathing hard and was very much excited. "They were poor swordsmen,for Spaniards," he added--"very poor, I thought."

  I jumped off my horse, and, kneeling beside the man, turned him over.He was badly hurt, if not dying, cut across the neck. He looked hardat him by such light as there was, and did not recognize him as one ofour assailants of the night before.

  "I do not think he is a Spaniard," I said slowly. Then a certainsuspicion occurred to my mind, and I stooped lower over him.

  "Not a Spaniard?" Master Bertie said stupidly. "How is that?"

  Before I answered I raised the man in my arms, and, carrying himcarefully to the side of the road, set him with his back to a tree.Then I got quickly on my horse. The women were just coming up. "MasterBertie," I said in a low voice, as I looked this way and that to seeif the alarm had spread, "I am afraid there is a mistake. But saynothing to them. It is one of the town-guard you have killed!"

  "One of the town-guard!" he cried, a light bursting in on him, andthe reins dropping from his hand. "What shall we do? We are lost, man!"