CHAPTER SIX.
HOW I WALKED WITH A REBEL.
"Where do we go next?" asked I in the morning as we shook ourselves freeof the hay which had been our bed, and sallied out into the air.
He looked at me with a smile, as though the question were a jest.
"To my guardian's," said he.
"Why!" said I, "he will flog you for running away from Oxford."
"What of that?" said Sir Ludar. "He is my governor."
It seemed odd to me for a man to put himself thus in the lion's maw, butI durst not question my new chief.
"You shall come too, and see him," said he. "It passes me to guess whathe will do with me next, unless he make a lawyer or a priest of me."
"I must back to my master in London," said I.
"The printer!" said he, scornfully. "He is thy master no more; thouhast entered my service."
This staggered me. For much as I loved him, it had never occurred to meto bind myself to a penniless runaway.
"Pardon me, sir," said I. "I am bound to the printer by an oath.Besides, I know not yet what your service is."
"My service," said he, "is to be free, and to put wrong right."
"'Tis a noble service," said I, "but it fills no stomachs."
"You 'prentices are all stomach," said he, sadly. "But 'tis always so.No man that ever I met believed in me yet. I must fight my battlesalone."
This cut me to the quick.
"Not so," said I. "Last night I swore to be your friend. It was a madoath, I know; but you shall see if I do not observe it. But till twoyears are past, I am bound by an oath to my master the printer, and himI must serve. Then, I am with you."
This I thought softened him.
"Well," said he, "who knows where we may be two years hence?"
"God knows, and we are in his hands."
"So be it," said Sir Ludar, crossing himself, to my grief. "Meanwhile,Humphrey, we are friends. I may claim your heart if not your hand?"
"You may--or," here I blushed, "a share of it."
"What mean you by that?" asked he, sharply. "What man holds the rest?"
"No man," said I.
He laughed pleasantly at that.
"A woman? I have heard of that distemper before. It comes and goes,I'm told. Had it been a man, I should have been jealous."
There was little sympathy in that for my sore heart, so I said no more.
"Come," said he presently, "you shall come to my guardian's. He livesat Richmond, and it is on our way to London. If he turn me off, youshall take me to London, and make a printer of me, if you please."
I agreed to this, and we stepped out on our journey.
A strange journey it was. My comrade, for the most part, stalkedsilently half a pace in front of me, sometimes, it seemed to me,heedless of my presence, and sometimes as if troubled by it. Yet oftenenough he brightened up, and began carolling some wild song; or elsedarted off the road after a hare or other game which he rarely failed tobring down with his arrow; or else rallied me for my silence, and bademe talk to him.
At these times I asked him about his own country, and his father, andthen his face lit up. For though he had not seen either since he was achild, it was clear he longed to be back.
"What prevents your returning now?" said I.
He looked at me in his strange wondering way.
"Know you not that McDonnell is an exile, and that the hated Sassenachholds his castle?" demanded he.
I confessed I did not; for a London 'prentice hears little of the newsoutside. Besides, though I durst not tell him as much, I did not knowwho McDonnell, his father, might be; or what he meant by Sassenach.
"But he will feast in Dunluce once more," cried he, "and I shall bethere too. And the usurper woman Elizabeth shall--"
Here I sprang at him, and felled him to the ground!
The blood left my heart as I saw what I had done. As he lay there, Icould hardly believe it was I who had done it; for I loved him as my ownbrother, and never more so than when he leapt to his feet, and withwhite lips and heaving chest stood and faced me.
I was so sure he would fly at me, that I did not even wait for him tobegin, but flung myself blindly on him. But he only caught me by thearm and shoulder, and flung me off with such strength that I reeled andstaggered for a dozen yards before I finally fell headlong with my facein the dust.
Then he turned on his heel and walked on slowly.
It was no light thing, after that, to pick myself up and, spitting thedust from my mouth, go after him. But I did. He never turned as I cameup behind, or heeded me till I stood before him and said:
"Sir Ludar, I smote you just now for speaking ill of my Queen. A manwho is disloyal to her is no friend of mine; therefore farewell."
He glanced me over, and his face had lost all its anger.
"She is no Queen of mine," said he. "I was born her enemy. For allthat, you did well to strike when I spoke ill of her. I would do asmuch to you were you to speak evil of my Queen." And here he raised hiscap.
"Your Queen?" said I. "And who may she be? There is but one Queen inthese realms."
"I know it," said he. "Her I serve."
"Do you mean," said I, "that you serve--"
"Hush!" said he, with his hand at his belt. "I serve Queen Mary, andall the saints in Heaven preserve her! Now, Humphrey Dexter, is itpeace or war?"
"I pray every day for the confusion of her Majesty's enemies."
"Why not?" said he, "so you pray not aloud. I do the same."
"Not so," said I, "or I should not have struck you. Nor shall it bepeace if you dare to breathe her Majesty's name again in my hearing."
"Heaven is my witness I have no wish to breathe it," said he, with acurl of his lips. "Nor, if you breathe the name of mine, need you lookfor so gentle a tumble as I dealt you just now. Come, your hand on it."
So we struck hands for the third time and went on.
My conscience troubled me sore the rest of that day. What had I cometo, to assort thus with a declared enemy of our gracious Queen, and,more than that, to love him more every mile we walked? I could not helpit, as I said before. He was so unlike a common rebel, and so big inhis heart to every one and everything that claimed his aid.
Once that day, as we toiled along the hot road, we overtook a poor womancarrying a bundle in one arm, while with the other she strove to helpalong a little, footsore child, who whimpered and stumbled at everystep. Without a word, Sir Ludar took the child and bundle both from thescared mother, who gave herself up for lost, until he asked her gentlywhither she went, and might he help her so far with her burdens? Thenshe wept, and led us a clean four miles off our road to her cottage,where Sir Ludar put down the bundle and the now sleeping urchin and badeher adieu before she could thank him.
Another time, as we were mounting a hill, we came up with a hay-cartwhich the patient horse could scarcely drag. Whereupon he set-to topush the cart behind, calling on me and the bewildered carter to do thesame, till we had fairly hoisted it to the crown of the hill.
Another time he fell foul of a parcel of gipsies who were ill-using anold man of their tribe, and a lively fight we had of it, we two againstsix of them, amongst whom was the old man himself. When at last we hadgot rid of them I hoped that our adventures for the day were done, for Iwas tired and wanted to rest my bones in a bed.
But as we passed through Reading the righteous soul of my comrade wasvexed by the sight of a boy sitting howling in the stocks.
"No doubt he deserves punishment," said I.
"Deserve or not, he has had enough, for me," said Ludar, and begankicking away at the boards.
Of course there was a commotion at that, and the constable came to seewhat the noise was about. Ludar desired nothing better, for he made thefellow disgorge his key, which saved a vast power of kicking. Then,when the boy was free and had darted off to the woods. Sir Ludar, witha grim smile, locked up the beadle in his place, and flung the key intot
he pond. Then as the watch and a posse of the townsfolk turned out tosee what the uproar was, we ran for it and got clear.
This last proceeding did not please me. For it was defying the Queen'slaw, and as I said to my comrade, it was not for us to set ourselves upagainst authority.
But Sir Ludar would listen to no reason.
"The lad was miserable where he was," said he.
"So is the beadle now," said I.
"The better the lesson for him," said Ludar.
There was no use arguing, so we trudged on some miles further till nightfell, and we took shelter again in a barn.
The next day, guiding ourselves chiefly by the river, we came toWindsor, where I had much ado to hinder my comrade from going a-huntingin her Majesty's forest. Had it not been that I persuaded him we mightalmost reach Richmond that night, I think, for mere spite of the law, hewould have stayed.
As it fell out, we were far from reaching Richmond that night. For theway was difficult with swamps and thickets, so that we were glad enoughto reach Chertsey by sundown. I was for spending what little remainedof my money at the inn, but this he would not hear of; so we took oursupper, and then, as the night was fine, slept in a field of hay. Sweetlying it was too, and when early next day we plunged into the clearriver and refreshed out travel-stained limbs, we felt men again.
It was well on in the afternoon when we arrived at Richmond. We shouldhave been there sooner, but that my comrade was for ever calling a haltor turning aside on some errand of chivalry. Mad enough I thought someof them, but then he never asked me what I thought; and if ever I hungback, he did what he needed without me. Yet whatever he did, it was tohelp some one weaker than himself, and if my patience now and thenfailed me, the honour I had for him grew, as I said, with every mile wewent.
I say it was afternoon when we reached Richmond. As we approached theplace my comrade's desire to see his guardian waxed cool, and he castabout him for an excuse, if not to avoid going to the house, at least toput it off till night. I proposed that we should rest ourselves underthe trees in the park, to which he agreed. But it was an unlucky move.For we had not lain half an hour, enjoying the shade, and I half asleep,when he started up with a "hist," and slipped an arrow into his bow.
At that moment a fine buck went by. He had not spied us while we laystill, but the moment my comrade moved, he threw up his head and boundedoff. Yet not before a quick twang from Sir Ludar's bowstring had sentan arrow into his quarter. "Are you mad?" cried I, in terror, "it isthe Queen's deer!"
"Follow! follow!" shouted Sir Ludar, who was every inch a sportsman.
I tried to hold him back, but he heeded me no more than had I been afly. With a loud whoop, he dashed away in pursuit. He had not gonetwenty yards from me, when there was a great shout and clatter ofhorsemen, and before I well knew what had happened, I saw Sir Ludardisarmed in the clutches of half a dozen men. I rushed to his help, butcould do nothing except share his fate. For they were too many for us,and we had no time even to hit out.
"Where is the captain?" cried one of the men.
Just then up rode a man at sight of whom the blood tingled in all myveins. I mean Captain Merriman.
I do not know if he recognised me at first, for he scarcely gave us alook.
"Away with them to your master," said he, riding on, "and see they giveyou not the slip."
So we were marched off, a pretty end to our jaunt. And to make ourplight worse, Sir Ludar whispered to me as we went along, "Unless Imistake, the master of these men is my guardian, Sir William Carleton."
Sure enough it was.
The house we were conducted to stood in a large park with a view farover the river, perhaps the fairest view in England. Yet I had no mindjust then to admire it; for the presence of that hated horseman made meforget all except one fair face, which I seemed to see as I had seen itthat day at Finsbury Fields. He rode forward as we entered the park andbade the men bring us safely in.
"Come, step out," said one of the men, giving me a flick with hisriding-whip, "we have been waiting for you these three weeks, mygentlemen; and I promise you a warm welcome from his worship. Thecaptain, his visitor, will be in high favour, now that he has run thevermin to earth--what say you, Hugh?"
"I warrant you that," said Hugh. "For our master had set his heart oncatching the vagabonds, and nothing could please him better."
"Heigho! It is we have had all the watching these weeks past; but thisgay spark will have all the glory now. Well, so the world goes. Ishall be glad to see him started on his Irish wars, for I like him not."
"Nor I--and yet we are not like to see the last of him soon, if therumour which my lady's maid hath whispered me, that some fair company isexpected shortly at the hall, be true."
The other laughed.
"No, truly, he is no proof against the flutter of a skirt, as some hereknow. Did I tell you what befel him not long since in London town, atthe place where the 'prentice boys' sport? I had it from one of his ownmen. But here we are at his worship's. You shall hear the storyanother time, and I warrant you will crack your sides over it."
Sir William, being an old man and gouty to boot, saw his prisoners inhis own room, whither we were accordingly conducted. I had no chance toget a word with my comrade, who, I noticed, kept his hand to his mouth,and pulled his cap over his eyes--I suppose, to conceal himself fromthose about the place who might know him. As for me, I had no desire tohide myself from the only man there who knew me.
Sir William was a fine, red-faced, white-headed old gentleman, withsomething of the old soldier in his air, and (when he came to speak), agood deal of him in his words. He sat in a great chair, with one footswaddled on a stool before him; and the oaths with which he greeted eachtwinge as it came, boded ill for us his prisoners.
He kept us waiting a long time at the dimly lit end of the hall, whilehe spoke to his guest. At last he ordered us to be led forward. As weadvanced, and their eyes fell on us, each uttered an exclamation. Ikept my eye on Captain Merriman, and watched the storm that gathered onhis brow, and the crimson flush that sprung to his cheeks. It was plainhe knew me again, and I was content.
As for Sir Ludar, he stared listlessly at his guardian till it shouldplease his worship to speak.
His worship began with a string of oaths.
"Why, what means this, sirrah! How came _you_ here, you vagabond Irishwhelp, in this company? Speak, or by my beard, I'll--I'll--"
He did not say what he would do, for his foot gave him a twinge whichdemanded of him every word he could spare.
"I have left Oxford, Sir Guardian," said Ludar, "I liked not the place,or the ways of the place, or the Welshman, my keeper; and as for mypresent company," said he, turning to me, "'tis good enough for me. Itwas I shot the deer, not he; and so pray bid these fellows loose him."
At this the angry old soldier nearly went off in a fit. He flourishedhis stick towards the offender, and even tried to rise from his chair, aproceeding which brought on fresh pangs, and set him swearing hard for aminute or more.
"How now! what, a murrain on you, puppy! Am I to be told my duty by araw-boned, ill-conditioned Irish gallowglass that I have fed at my tableand spent half my life in making a gentleman of? What do you think ofthat, Sir Captain? How would you like to be saddled with a young wolf-hound cub like that--Sorley Boy's son he is, no other, on my life--thatI was fool enough to take wardship of when he was a puling puppy and hisfather an honest man? What do you think of that? Curse the whole tribeof them, say I."
"By your leave, Sir William," said the captain in a smooth soft voice,that made every hair on my body bristle, "good deeds have always theirreward; but as for the deer that was shot, your ward is generous enoughto shield the real offender at his own cost. I should be sorry indeedhad it been otherwise."
I could see the veins in my comrade's neck swell while this talk wenton. But he remained silent, while Sir William said:
"By my soul, it wants but to look at the
varlet to see poacher writtenin his face! And the Queen's deer too! Come, you men, which of you wasit caught the rogue?"
Here one of the men, seeing how the wind lay, swore before heaven thathe saw me shoot the deer, and took me red-handed, with my bow in myhand. And when one sheep leads the way, the others follow. They allswore it was I; while some added that my comrade lay asleep under atree, and knew nothing of the matter till I was captured.
Then Sir William grunted, and turned to his ward.
"'Tis well for you, sir puppy, these honest fellows give you the lie.Had they done otherwise, I could have believed them; and I promise you,ward and all as you are, I would have hanged thee for slaying theQueen's deer, as surely as I will hang this cunning rogue here. Let theboy go, men; and now you," said he, turning to me, "you ill-lookinghang-dog, you, say your prayers, for to-morrow you ride to the Assizes,and then the Lord have mercy on thy black soul!"
It surprised me that Sir Ludar took his release quietly, and now stoodby with thunderous face, but apparently heedless of my sentence.
"Take him away there," said his worship, "and make him fast in thecellar. These dogs are slippery vermin, so take care. When the rope isround his neck he may wriggle to his heart's content. Come, be off withhim."
I looked at Ludar, but his back was turned. I looked at CaptainMerriman, and he was smiling to himself. I looked at his worship, andhe was swearing at his foot. So as all seemed against me, I turnedsadly enough and followed my guard to the dungeon. I cared littleenough what came to me. Ever since I set foot out of London things hadgone against me. I was steeped breast-high in disloyalty andlawlessness; I had staked my peace of mind on a rebel, and now it seemedeven he had done with me. Yet I could not believe that. Had I done so,I think I should have beaten out my brains upon the wall of that dampcellar. As it was, I sat there, too bewildered to think. And so, forlack of anything else to do, I fell asleep.
I know not how long I had slept, when I was aroused by a hand on my arm.As I might have known, it was Ludar. He had a dish of venison pastyand a flagon of wine in his hands, which he set before me, and in dumbshow bade me eat. I obeyed heartily, for I had not tasted food sincethe morning. Then he took me by the hand, and led me in the darkness upthe steps and into the open air. Once clear of the house he brokesilence.
"Farewell," said he, "I may stay here. My guardian threatens to send meback to Oxford in charge of a troop, but I think I shall stay here awhile."
"But," said I, "will you not get yourself into trouble over this?"
"Over what? your release?" said he, laughing, "I think not. The oldgentleman will rave somewhat at first, but when it comes to hanging meor nobody, he will hold his peace. He cannot afford to see a ward ofhis swing with his feet off the ground. Moreover, as soon as I can hearnews from the north, I shall go to find my father. So, farewell,Humphrey. Expect me in London ere long, and forget not our oath."
I gave him my hand in answer, and with a heavy heart started on my way.
I had not gone many paces when he came after me.
"Who and what sort of man is this Captain?" said he.
"He is the Devil," said I. And I told him what had passed between us.He laughed loud when I spoke of the duck-pond--so loud that I feared weshould be heard.
"Oh," said he, when the tale was done, "that settles it."
"Settles what?" I asked.
"I mean," said he, "that I think I shall slay him."
And with that we parted, he back to the house, I, dismally enough, toLondon.
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