The Lady of Loyalty House: A Novel

by Justin H. McCarthy

  XIX

  SIR BLAISE PAYS HIS RESPECTS

  Sir Blaise Mickleton was, in his own eyes and in the eyes of thevillage girls of Harby, a vastly fine gentleman. If they had everheard of the sun-god, Phoebus Apollo would have presented himselfto their rusticity in some such guise as the personality of the localknight. Sir Blaise had been to London--once--had kissed the King'shand at Whitehall, and had ever since striven vehemently to be moreLondonish than the Londoner. He talked with what he thought to be thetown's drawl; he walked, as he believed, with the town walk over thegrasses of his grounds and on the Harby high-roads. He plagued thevillage tailor with strange devices for coats and cloaks;many-colored as a Joseph, he strutted through bucolic surroundings asif he carried the top-knot of the mode in the Mall; he glittered inribbons and trinkets, floundered rather than swam in a sea ofessences, yet scarcely succeeded in amending, with all this falsefoppishness, the something bumpkin that was at the root of hisnature. He was of a lusty natural with the sanguine disposition, andheld himself as much above the most of his neighbors as he knewhimself to be below the house of Harby. He was no double-face,friendly with both sides; he was rather for peeping from behind theparted doors of the temple of peace upon a warring world without, andmaking fast friends with the victor. He had very little doubt thatthe victor would be the King, but just enough doubt to permit hissurrender to a distemper that kept him to his bed till Edgehillproved the amazing remedy.

  Sir Blaise peacocked over the lawn, delicate as Agag. He murdered themorning air with odors, his raiment outglowed the rainbow; one handdandled his staff, the other caressed his mustaches. He strove tosmile adoration on Brilliana, but mistrust marred his ogle, and ashiver of fear betrayed his simper of confidence. Brilliana watchedhim gravely with never a word or a sign, and her silence intensifiedhis discomfiture by the square of the distance he had yet totraverse.

  "Coxcomb," she thought, and "coward," she thought, and "cur," shethought.

  He could not read her thought, but he could read her tightened lipsand her hostile eyes, and he wished himself again in bed atMickleton. But it was too late to retreat, and he advanced in badorder under the silent fire of her disdain till he paused at what hedeemed to be the proper place for ceremonious salutation. Heuncovered, describing so magnificent a sweep of extended hat that itsplumes brushed the grasses at her feet. He bowed so low that his pinkface disappeared from view in the forward fall of his lovelocks. Whenthe rising inflection shook these back and the pink face againconfronted her, he seemed to have recovered some measure ofassertion.

  "Lady," he said, sighingly, "I kiss your mellifluous fingers andbelieve myself in Elysium."

  The languishing glance that accompanied these languishing syllableshad no immediate effect upon the lady to whom they were addressed.Still Brilliana looked fixedly at her visitor, and still Sir Blaisefound little ease under her steady gaze. He blinked uncomfortably;his fingers twitched; he tried to moisten his dry lips. At length,out of what seemed a wellnigh ageless silence, the lady spoke, andher words were an arraignment.

  "Why did you not come to Harby when Harby needed help?"

  Sir Blaise felt weak in the knees, weak in the back, weak in thewits; he would have given much for a seat, more for a sup of brandy.But he had to speak, and did so after such gasping and stammering asspoiled his false bravado.

  "I came to speak of that," he protested, forcing a jauntiness that hewas far from feeling. "I feared you might misunderstand--"

  "Indeed," interrupted Brilliana, "I think there is nomisunderstanding."

  Sir Blaise made an appealing gesture.

  "Hear me out," he pleaded. "Hear me and pity me. The news of hisMajesty's quarrel with his Parliament threw me into such a distemperas hath kept me to my bed these three weeks. My people held all newsfrom me for my life's sake. It was but this morning I was judgedsound enough to hear of all that has passed. How otherwise should Inot have flown to your succor? I could wish your siege had lasted awhile longer to give me the glory of delivering you."

  The sternness faded from Brilliana's gaze. She was not really angrywith this overcareful gentleman; she would only have been grieved hadhe proved the man to serve her well. He was no more for suchenterprises than your lap-dog for bull-baiting. Ridiculous in hisfinery, pitiful in his subterfuge, he was only a thing to smile at,to trifle with. So she smiled, and, rising, swept him a splendidreverence.

  "I am your gallantry's very grateful servant," she whispered, havingmuch ado to keep from laughing in his face. The fatuous are easilypacified.

  "I hope you do not doubt my valor?" he asked, with some show ofreassurance.

  "Indeed I have no doubt," Brilliana answered, with another courtesy.The speech might have two meanings. Sir Blaise, unwilling to splithairs, took it as balsam, and hurriedly turned the conversation.

  "Well! well!" he hummed. "You seem nothing the worse for yourbusiness."

  "I am something the better," she said, softly. Perhaps Sir Blaise didnot hear her.

  "Is it true," he asked, "that you harbor a Crop-ear in this house?"

  "Indeed," Brilliana confirmed, "I hold him as hostage for the life ofCousin Randolph. You know that he is a prisoner?"

  "I heard that news with the rest of the budget," Sir Blaise answered."And what kind of a creature is your captive? Does he deafen you withpsalms, does he plague you with exhortations?"

  Brilliana laughed merrily.

  "No, no; 'tis a most wonderful wild-fowl. My people swear he ismettled in all gentle arts, from the manage of horses to the castingof a falcon."

  Sir Blaise shook his staff in protest of indignation.

  "Is it possible that such a rascal usurps the privileges ofgentlefolk?"

  "He carries himself like a gentleman," Brilliana answered. "More'sthe pity that he should be false to his king and his kind."

  Sir Blaise smiled condescendingly.

  "Believe me, dear lady, you are misled. A woman may be deceived by anexterior. Doubtless he has picked up his gentility in the servants'hall of some great house, and seeks to curry your favor by airingit."

  "He has persuaded those that are shrewd judges of men to praise him."

  Again Sir Blaise laughed his fat laugh.

  "Ha, ha! Shrewd judges of men. I will take no man's judgment but myown of this rascal. Had I word with him you should soon see me sethim down."

  Brilliana's glance wandering from the pied pomposity who struttedbefore her, saw a sharp contrast through the yew-tree arch. A man insober habit was moving slowly over the grass in the direction of thepleasaunce, moving slowly, for he was carrying an open book and hiseyes were fixed upon its pages. Truly the sombre Puritan made abetter figure than her swaggering neighbor. She looked up at SirBlaise with a pretty maliciousness in her smile.

  "You can have your will even now," she said, "for I spy my prisonercoming here--and reading, too."

  Sir Blaise swung round upon his heels and stared in the directionindicated by Brilliana. He saw Evander, black against the sunlittrees, the sunlit grasses, and he smiled derisively. He was veryconfident that there was no courage as there could be no wit in anyPuritan. These things were the privileges of Cavaliers.

  "His brains are buried in his book," he sneered. "If a stone came inhis way now he would stumble over it, he's so deep in his sourstudies. 'Tis some ponderous piece of divinity, I'll wager, levelledagainst kings."

  He thought he was speaking low to his companion, but his was not avoice of musical softness, and its tones jarred the quiet air.Evander caught the sound of it, lifted his head, and, looking beforehim over his book, saw in the yew haven Brilliana seated and agaudy-coated gentleman standing by her side. He was immediately forturning and hastening in another direction, but Brilliana, for allshe hated him, would not now have it so. Perhaps she had been piquedby Sir Blaise's too confident assumption of superiority to thejudgment of her people; perhaps she thought it might divert her tosee Puritan and Cavalier face each other before her in the shadowedcircle of yews. Whatev
er her reason, she raised her hand and raisedher voice to stay Evander's purpose.

  "Sir, sir!" she cried. "Mr. Cloud, by your leave, I would have youcome hither. Do not turn aside."

  Thus summoned, Evander walked with slightly quickened pace to theplace where Brilliana sat and saluted her with formal courtesy.

  "I cry your pardon," he declared. "I would not intrude on your quiet,but I read and walked unconscious that there was company among theyews."

  Brilliana answered him with the dignity of a gracious and benevolentqueen.

  "Do not withdraw, sir; you have the liberty of Loyalty House, and Iwould not have you avoid any part of its gardens."

  Evander bowed. Sir Blaise broke into a horse-laugh which grated moreon Brilliana's ears than on Evander's. Brilliana was at heart ratherangry that for once Puritan should show better than Cavalier.

  "You are a vastly happy jack to be used so gently," he bellowed."Some would have stuck such a hostage in a garret and done wellenough."

  Evander still kept his eyes fixed on the lady of the house and seemedto have no ears for the jeering Cavalier. With a lift of the handthat indicated and saluted the prospect, he said, smoothly, "You havea very gracious garden, lady."

  Mirth shone discreetly in Brilliana's eyes as she gave the Puritan abow for his praise. The Cavalier, a viola da gamba of anger, peggedhis string of bluster tighter.

  "Did not the fellow hear me?" he cried, and this time his noise wonhim a moment of attention. Evander gave him a glance, and then,returning to Brilliana, said, with a manner of amused contempt, "Youhave a very ungracious gardener."

  Sir Blaise's pink face purpled; Sir Blaise's hand swung to the hiltof his sword. Evander seemed to have forgotten his existence and toawait quietly any further favor of speech from Brilliana. My LadyMischief, much diverted, judged it time to intervene.

  "Lordamercy!" she cried, as she rose from her seat and moved a littleway towards Sir Blaise. "Let me bring you acquainted."

  The Cavalier caught her hand and stayed her before she could speakhis name.

  "Wait, wait," he whispered. "Watch me roast him."

  He swung away from her and swaggered towards Evander. "Tell me,solemn sir," he questioned, "have you heard of one Sir BlaiseMickleton?"

  "I have heard of him," Evander answered. His tranquil indifference toSir Blaise's bearing, to Sir Blaise's splendor of apparel, prickedthe knight like a sting. He tried to change the sum of his irritationinto the small money of wit.

  "You have never heard that he snuffled through his nose, turned uphis eyes, mewed psalms and canticles, and dubbed himself by some suchname as Fight-the-Good-Fight-of-Faith, yea, verily?"

  Sir Blaise talked with the drawling whine which he assumed to be thefamiliar intonation of all Puritan speech. Like many anotherhumorless fellow, he prided himself upon a gift of mimicry signallydenied to him. Even Brilliana's detestation of the Puritan partycould not compel her to admire her neighbor's performance. Evander'sface showed no sign of recognition of Sir Blaise's impertinence as heanswered:

  "No, truly, but I have heard some talk of a swaggering braggart,prodigal in valiant promise, but very huckster in a pitifulperformance; in a word, a clown whose attempt to ape the courtier hasnever veiled the clod."

  Brilliana found it hard to restrain her laughter as she watched thevarying shades of fury float over Sir Blaise's broad face at eachsuccessive clause of Evander's disdainful indictment. Yet she wassadly vexed to think that her side commanded so poor a champion. SirBlaise tried to speak, gasped out a furious "Sir!" then his passionchoked him, and he gobbled, inarticulate and grotesque. Evander wentcomposedly on:

  "He is rated a King's man, and would serve his master well if muchtippling of healths and clearing of trenchers were yeoman service ina time of war. But his sword sleeps in its sheath."

  "Now, by St. George--" Sir Blaise yelled, raising his clinched fists.Brilliana feared at one moment that he would strike her prisoner inthe face; feared in the next that he would fall at her feet dead ofan apoplexy. She sailed between the antagonists and addressedEvander.

  "Serious sir, will it dash you to learn that you are speaking to SirBlaise Mickleton?"

  Evander's countenance showed no sign either of surprise or of dismay.Sir Blaise, still turkey-red, managed to gulp down his cholersufficiently to utter some syllables.

  "I am that knight," he gasped; then, turning to Brilliana, hewhispered behind his hand, "Mark now how this bear will climb down."

  Brilliana, watching Evander, was not confident of apologies. Herprisoner made a slight inclination of the head towards Sir Blaise inacknowledgment of the fact of Brilliana's presentation, and said,very calmly:

  "Why, then, sir, such a jury as your world has empanelled havemisread you, for if they summed your flaws aptly in their report ofyou, they clapped this rider on their staggering verdict, that SirBlaise Mickleton did, at his worst, do his best to play thegentleman."

  Smiles of satisfaction rippled over Sir Blaise's face. He did notfollow the drift of Evander's fluency but took it for compliment.

  "Handsomely apologized, i' faith," he beamed to Brilliana. Brillianalaughed in his face.

  "Why, poor man, he flouts you worse than ever," she whispered.

  Sir Blaise knitted puzzled brows while Evander, having made theeffective pause, continued, suavely:

  "In the which judgment they erred, for he does not merit socreditable a praise. Sure they can never have seen him who couple inany way the name of Sir Blaise Mickleton with the title ofgentleman."

  Even Sir Blaise's dulness could not misinterpret Evander's meaning,and rage resumed its sway.

  "You crow! You kite!" he fumed. His wrath could find no more words,but he made a stride towards Evander, menacing. Brilliana steppeddexterously between the two. As she told Tiffany later, she felt asif she were gliding between fire and ice.

  "One side of me was frozen, and the other done to a crisp." Shelifted her hand commandingly.

  "We will have no bickering here," she protested. Evander paid her asalutation, and, moving a little aside, resumed his book. He wouldnot retire while Sir Blaise was in presence, but he guessed that thelady wished for speech with her friend. Sir Blaise did not find herwords consolatory, though she affected consolation.

  "The bear licks with a rough tongue," she whispered. Sir Blaiseslapped his palms together.

  "You shall see me ring him, you shall see me bait him, if you willbut leave us."

  "How shall I see if I leave?" Brilliana asked, provokingly. "But 'tisno matter."

  As she spoke she thought of Halfman, and a merry scheme danced in herhead.

  "Gentles, I must leave you," she cried, with a pretty littlereverence that included both men. Then in a moment she had slippedout of the pleasaunce and was running down the avenue. In the houseshe found Halfman. "Quick!" she cried, breathlessly. "Sir Blaise andMr. Cloud are wrangling yonder like dogs over a bone."

  "Do you wish me to keep the peace between them?" Halfman questioned.Brilliana did not exactly know what she wished. She was fretted atthe poor show a King's man had made before a Puritan; if Sir Blaisecould do something to humble the Puritan it might not be whollyamiss. So much Halfman gathered from her jerky scraps of sentences;also, that on no account must the disputants be permitted to come toswords. Halfman nodded, caught up a staff, and ran full tilt to thepleasaunce. The moment his back was turned Brilliana, instead ofremaining in the house, came out again, doubled on her course, anddodging among the hedges found herself peeping unseen upon theenclosure she had just quitted and the brawl at its height.