VI
HOW WILL ALL END?
When they had all gone and the hall was quiet, Thoroughgood cameslowly down with a puzzled frown on his honest, weather-beaten faceto where Halfman humped over his map.
"Where's the good of drilling clowns and cooks?" he asked, surlily.He talked like one thoroughly weary, but his mood of weariness seemedto melt before the sunshine of Halfman's smile as he lifted his headfrom the map.
"Where's the harm?" he countered. "'Twas my lady's idea to keep theirspirits up, and, by God! it was a good thought. She knows how itheartens folk to play a great part in a great business: keeps themfrom feeling the fingers of famine in their inwards, keeps them fromwhining, repining, declining, what you will. But I own I did notcount on the presence of Gammer Cook in the by-play."
"I could not see why she should be kept out of the mummery,"Thoroughgood responded, "if she had a mind for the masking."
"Perhaps you are right," Halfman answered, meditatively. "My lady'sexample would make a Hippolyta of any housemaid of them all."
"I do not know what it would make of them," Thoroughgood answered;"but I know this, that it matters very little now."
Halfman swung round on his seat and stared at him curiously.
"Why?" he asked.
"Now that this truce is called," Thoroughgood answered, "that theRoundhead captain may have speech with my lady."
"Why, what then?" questioned Halfman, with his eyes so fixed onThoroughgood's that Thoroughgood, dogged as he was, averted his gaze.
"Naught's left but surrender," he grunted, between his teeth. Thewords came thickly, but Halfman heard them clearly. He raised hisright hand for a moment as if he had a thought to strike hiscompanion, but then, changing his temper, he let it fall idly uponhis knee as he surveyed Thoroughgood with a look that half disdained,half pitied.
"My lady will never surrender," he said, quietly, with the quiet of aman who enunciates a mathematical axiom. "You know that well enough."
Thoroughgood shrugged plaintive, protesting shoulders.
"We've stood this siege for many days," he muttered. "Food is runningout; powder is running out. Even the Lady Brilliana cannot workmiracles."
Halfman rose to his feet. His eyes were shining and he pressed hisclinched hands to his breast like a man in adoration.
"The Lady Brilliana can work miracles, does work miracles daily. Isit no miracle that she has held this castle all these hours and daysagainst this rebel leaguer? Is it no miracle that she has poured thespirit of chivalry into scullions and farm-hands and cook-wenches sothat not a Jack or Jill of them but would lose bright life blithelyfor her and the King and God? Is it not a miracle that she hastransmuted, by a change more amazing than anything Master Ovid hathrecorded in his Metamorphoses, a villanous old land-devil andsea-devil like myself into a passionate partisan? But what of me? Godbless her! She is my lady-angel, and her will is my will to the endof the chapter."
He dropped in his chair again as if exhausted by the vehemence of hiswords and the emotion which prompted them. Thoroughgood contemplatedhim sourly.
"You prate like a play-actor," he snarled. Halfman's whole beingflashed into activity again. He was no more a sentimentalist but nowa roaring ranter.
"Because I was a play-actor once," he shouted, "when I was asweet-and-twenty youngling."
Thoroughgood eyed Halfman with a sudden air of distrust.
"You never told me you were a play-actor," he growled. "You spokeonly of soldiering."
Halfman laughed flagrantly in his face.
"Godamercy, man, there has been scant time to tell you my life'sstory. We have had other cats to whip. Yes, I was a play-actor once,and played for great poets, for men whose names have never tickledyour ears. But the owl-public would have none of me, and, owllike,hooted me off the boards. But I've had my revenge of them. I'veplayed a devil's part on the devil's stage for thirty red years. NunePlaudite."
The Latin tag dropped dead at the porches of John Thoroughgood'sears, but those ears pricked at part of Halfman's declamation.
"What kind of parts?" he asked, drawing a little nearer to thesoldier of fortune, whose experiences fascinated his inexperience.
Halfman shrugged his shoulders and favored honest Thoroughgood with abantering, quizzical smile.
"All kinds of parts," he answered. "How does the old puzzle run?Tinker, tailor, soldier, sailor, ploughboy, gentleman, thief. I thinkI have played all those parts, and others, too. Fling beggar andpirate into the dish. But I tell you this, honest John, I have neverplayed a part so dear to me as that of captain to this divinecommander. I thank my extravagant stars that steered me home to serveher."
"You cannot sing her praises too sweetly for my ears," Thoroughgoodanswered. "But there is an end to all things, and it looks to me asif we were mighty near to an end of the siege of Harby. Why elseshould there be a truce called that the Roundhead captain may havespeech with my lady."
"Honest John Thoroughgood," Halfman answered, with great composure,"you are not so wise as you think. This Roundhead captain has sent ushither the most passionate pleadings to be admitted to parley. Whydeny him? It will advantage him no jot, but it is possible we maylearn from the leakage of his lips something at least of what isgoing on in the world."
"What is there to learn?" asked Thoroughgood. Halfman shook his headreprovingly.
"Why, for my part, I should like to learn why in all this great gapof time nothing has been done to help one side or the other. If thegentry of Harby have made no effort to relieve us, neither, on theother hand, has our leaguer been augmented by any reinforcements. Ifmy lady has been surprised that Sir Blaise Mickleton has made no showof coming to her succor, I, for my part, am woundily surprised thatthe Cropheads of Cambridge have sent no further levies for ourundoing."
"Why, for that matter--" Thoroughgood began, and then suddenly brokeoff. "Here comes my lady," he said, turning and standing in anattitude of respectful attention.
Halfman had known of her coming before his companion spoke. The LadyBrilliana had come out on to the gallery from the door near the headof the stairway, and Halfman was conscious of her presence before helifted his eyes and looked at her. She was not habited now, as on theday when he first beheld her, in her riding-robe of green, but in asimple house-gown chosen for the ease and freedom it allowed to agreat lady who had suddenly found that she had much to do. The colorof the stuff, a crimson, as being a royal, loyal color, well becameher fine skin and her dark curls and her bright, imperious eyes. Shewas followed by her serving-woman, Tiffany, a merry girl thatThoroughgood adored, and one that would in days gone over have beenlikely to tickle the easy whimsies of Halfman. Now he had no eyes, nothoughts, save for her mistress, the lass unparalleled.
Brilliana was speaking to Tiffany even as she entered the gallery.
"Strip more lint, Tiffany," she ordered; "and bid Andrew be briskwith the charcoal."
Her voice was as buoyant as the song of a free bird, and her step onthe stair as light as if there were no such thing in the world as aleaguer. Tiffany crossed the gallery and disappeared through theopposite door. Brilliana, as she descended the stair, diverted herspeech to Thoroughgood.
"John Thoroughgood, I saw from the lattice our envoys bringing theParliament man down the elm walk. To them at once. They must notunhood their hawk till he come to our presence."
The Lady of Loyalty House: A Novel Page 7