CHAPTER VII
THE LOVE PHILTRE
So it came about that on the morrow Eve and Sir Andrew, accompanied onlyby a single serving man, fearing no guile since it seemed certain thatthe Frenchmen were so far away, rode across the moor to Blythburgh. Atthe manor-house they found the drawbridge up. The watchman at the gatesaid also that his orders were to admit none, for the Frenchmen beinggone, there were but few to guard the place.
"What, good fellow," asked Eve, "not even the daughter of the house whohas heard that her father lies so sick?"
"Ay, he lies sick, lady," the man replied, "but such are his orders. Yetif you will bide here a while, I'll go and learn his mind."
So he went and returned presently, saying that Sir John commanded thathis daughter was to be admitted, but that if Sir Andrew attempted toenter he should be driven back by force.
"Will you go in or will you return with me?" asked her companion of Eve.
"God's truth!" she answered, "am I one to run away from my father,however bad his humour? I'll go in and set my case before him, forafter all he loves me in his own fashion and when he understands will, Ithink, relent."
"Your heart is your best guide, daughter, and it would be an ill taskfor me to stand between sire and child. Enter then, for I am sure thatthe Saints and your own innocence will protect you from all harm. At theworst you can come or send to me for help."
So they parted, and the bridge having been lowered, Eve walked boldlyto her father's sleeping chamber, where she was told he lay. As sheapproached the door she met several of the household leaving it withscared faces, who scarcely stayed to salute her. Among these were twoservants of her dead brother John, men whom she had never liked, and awoman, the wife of one of them, whom she liked least of all.
Pushing open the door, which was shut behind her, she advanced towardSir John, who was not, as she had thought, in bed, but clad in a furredrobe and standing by the hearth, on which burnt a fire. He watched hercome, but said no word, and the look of him frightened her somewhat.
"Father," she said, "I heard that you were sick and alone----"
"Ay," he broke in, "sick, very sick here," and he laid his hand upon hisheart, "where grief strikes a man. Alone, too, since you and your fellowhave done my only son to death, murdered my guests, and caused them todepart from so bloody a house."
Now Eve, who had come expecting to find her father at the point of deathand was prepared to plead with him, at these violent words took fire aswas her nature.
"You know well that you speak what is not true," she said. "You and yourFrenchmen strove to burn us out of Middle Marsh; my brother John struckHugh de Cressi as though he were a dog and used words toward him thatno knave would bear, let alone one better born than we are. Moreover,afterward once he spared his life, and Grey Dick, standing alone againsta crowd, did but use his skill to save us. Is it murder, then to protectour honour and to save ourselves from death? And am I wrong to refuse tomarry a fine French knave when I chance to love an honest man?"
"And, pray, am I your father, girl, that you dare to scold at me thus?"shouted Sir John, growing purple with wrath. "If I choose a husband foryou, by what right do you refuse him, saying that you love a Dunwichshop-boy? Down on your knees and beg my pardon, or you shall have thewhipping you have earned."
Now Eve's black eyes glittered dangerously.
"Ill would it go with any man who dared to lay a hand upon me," shesaid, drawing herself up and grasping the dagger in her girdle. "Yes,very ill, even though he were my own father. Look at me and say am I oneto threaten? Ay, and before you answer bear in mind that there are thoseat my call who can strike hard, and that among them I think you'll findthe King of England."
She paused.
"What hellish plot is this that you hatch against me?" asked Sir John,with some note of doubt in his voice. "What have I to fear from my liegelord, the King of England?"
"Only, sir, that you consort with and would wed me to one who, althoughyou may not know it, has, I am told, much to fear from him, so much thatI wonder that he has ridden to seek his Grace's presence. Well, you areill and I am angered and together we are but as steel and flint, fromthe meeting of which comes fire that may burn us both. Therefore, sincebeing better than I thought, you need me not and have only cruel wordsfor greeting, I'll bid you farewell and get me back to those who arekindlier. God be with you, and give you your health again."
"Ah!" said or rather snarled Sir John, "I thought as much and am readyfor the trick. You'd win back to sanctuary, would you, and the companyof that old wizard, Andrew Arnold, thence to make a mock of me? Well,not one step do you take upon that road while I live," and pushing pasther he opened the door and shouted aloud.
Apparently the men and woman whom Eve had met in the passage were stillwaiting there, for instantly they all reappeared.
"Now, fellows," said Sir John, "and you, Jane Mell, take this rebelliousgirl of mine to the chamber in the prisoners' tower, whence I thinkshe'll find it hard to fly to sanctuary. There lock her fast, feedingher with the bread and water of affliction to tame her proud spirit, andsuffering none to go near her save this woman, Jane Mell. Stay, giveme that bodkin which she wears lest she, who has learned bloody ways oflate, should do some of you or herself a mischief."
As he spoke one of the men deftly snatched the dagger from Eve's girdleand handed it to Sir John who threw it into the farthest corner of theroom. Then he turned and said:
"Now, girl, will you go, or must you be dragged?"
She raised her head slowly and looked him in the eyes. Mad as he waswith passion there was something in her face that frightened him.
"Can you be my father?" she said in a strained, quiet voice. "Oh! gladam I that my mother did not live to see this hour."
Then she wheeled round and addressed the men.
"Hearken, fellows. He who lays a finger on me, dies. Soon or lateassuredly he dies as he would not wish to die. Yes, even if you murderme, for I have friends who will learn the truth and pay back coin forcoin with interest a hundredfold. Now I'll go. Stand clear, knaves,and pray to God that never again may Red Eve cross the threshold ofher prison. Pray also that never again may you look on Hugh de Cressi'ssword or hear Grey Dick's arrows sing, or face the curse of old SirAndrew."
So proud and commanding was her mien and so terrible the import of herwords, that these rough hinds shrank away from her and the woman hid herface in her hands. But Sir John thundered threats and oaths at them, sothat slowly and unwillingly they ringed Eve round. Then with head heldhigh she walked thence in the midst of them.
The prisoners' chamber beneath the leads of the lofty tower was cold andunfurnished save for a stool and a truckle-bed. It had a great door ofoak locked and barred on the outer side, with a grille in it throughwhich the poor wretch within could be observed. There was no window,only high up beneath the ceiling were slits like loopholes that not achild could have passed. Such was the place to which Eve was led.
Here they left her. At nightfall the door was opened and Jane Mellentered, bearing a loaf of bread and a jug of water, which she set downupon the floor.
"Would you aught else?" she asked.
"Ay, woman," answered Eve, "my thick red woollen cloak from my chamber,and hood to match. Also water to wash me, for this place is cold andfoul, and I would die warm and clean."
"First I must get leave from my lord your father," said the woman in asurly voice.
"Get it then and be swift," said Eve, "or leave it ungotten; I carelittle."
Mell went and within half an hour returned with the garments, the waterand some other things. Setting them down without a word she departed,locking and bolting the door behind her.
While there remained a few rays of light to see by, Eve ate and drankheartily, for she needed food. Then having prayed according to hercustom, she laid herself down and slept as a child sleeps, for she wasvery strong of will and one who had always taught herself to make thebest of evil fortune. When she woke the daws were
cawing around thetower and the sun shone through the loopholes. She rose refreshed andate the remainder of her bread, then combed her hair and dressed herselfas best she could.
Two or three hours later the door was opened and her father entered.Glancing at him she saw that little sleep had visited him that night,for he looked old and very weary, so weary that she motioned to himto sit upon the stool. This he did, breathing heavily and mutteringsomething about the steepness of the tower stairs. Presently he spoke.
"Eve," he said, "is your proud spirit broken yet?"
"No," she answered, "nor ever will be, living or dead! You may kill mybody, but my spirit is me, and that you will never kill. As God gave itso I will return it to Him again."
He stared at her, with something of wonder and more of admiration in hislook.
"Christ's truth," he said, "how proud I could be of you, if only you'dlet me! I deem your courage comes from your mother, but she never hadyour shape and beauty. And now you are the only one left, and you hateme with all your proud heart, you, the heiress of the Claverings!"
"Whose estate is this," she answered, pointing to the bare stone walls."Think you, my father, that such treatment as I have met with at yourhands of late would breed love in the humblest heart? What devil drivesyou on to deal with me as you have done?"
"No devil, girl, but a desire for your own good, and," he added with aburst of truth, "for the greatness of my House after I am gone, whichwill be soon. For your old wizard spoke rightly when he said that Istand near to death."
"Will marrying me to a man I hate be for my good and make your Housegreat? I tell you, sir, it would kill me and bring the Claverings toan end. Do you desire also that your broad lands should go to patch aspendthrift Frenchman's cloak? But what matters your desire seeing thatI'll not do it, who love another man worth a score of him; one, too, whowill sit higher than any Count of Noyon ever stood."
"Pish!" he said. "'Tis but a girl's whim. You speak folly, being youngand headstrong. Now, to have done with all this mummer's talk, will youswear to me by our Saviour and on the welfare of your soul to break withHugh de Cressi once and forever? For if so I'll let you free, to leaveme if you will, and dwell where it pleases you."
She opened her lips to answer, but he held up his hand, saying:
"Wait ere you speak, I have not done. If you take my offer I'll not evenpress Sir Edmund Acour on you; that matter shall stand the chance oftime and tide. Only while you live you must have no more to do with theman who slew your brother. Now will you swear?"
"Not I," she answered. "How can I who but a few days ago before God'saltar and His priest vowed myself to this same Hugh de Cressi for allhis life?"
Sir John rose from the stool and walked, or, rather, tottered to thedoor.
"Then stay here till you rot," he said quite quietly, "for I'll giveyou no burial. As for this Hugh, I would have spared him, but you havesigned his death-warrant."
He was gone. The heavy door shut, the bars clanged into their sockets.Thus these two parted, for when they met once more no word passedbetween them; and although she knew not how these things would end, Evefelt that parting to be dreadful. Turning her face to the wall, for awhile she wept, then, when the woman Mell came with her bread and water,wiped away her tears and faced her calmly. After all, she could haveanswered no otherwise; her soul was pure of sin, and, for the rest, Godmust rule it. At least she would die clean and honest.
That night she was wakened from her sleep by the clatter of horses'hoofs on the courtyard stones. She could hear no more because a windblew that drowned all sound of voices. For a while a wild hope hadfilled her that Hugh had come, or perchance Sir Andrew, with the Dunwichfolk, but presently she remembered that this was foolish, since thesewould never have been admitted within the moat. So sighing sadly sheturned to rest again, thinking to herself that doubtless her father hadcalled in some of his vassal tenants from the outlying lands to guardthe manor in case it should be attacked.
Next morning the woman Jane Mell brought her better garments to wear,of her best indeed, and, though she wondered why they were sent, for thelack of anything else to do she arrayed herself in them, and braidedher hair with the help of a silver mirror that was among the garments. Alittle later this woman appeared again, bearing not bread and water, butgood food and a cup of wine. The food she ate with thankfulness, but thewine she would not drink, because she knew that it was French and hadheard Acour praise it.
The morning wore away to noon, and again the door opened and there stoodbefore her--Sir Edmund Acour himself, gallantly dressed, as she noticedvaguely, in close-fitting tunic of velvet, long shoes that turned upat the toes and a cap in which was set a single nodding plume. She rosefrom her stool and set her back against the wall with a prayer to God inher heart, but no word upon her lips, for she felt that her best refugewas silence. He drew the cap from his head, and began to speak.
"Lady," he said, "you will wonder to see me here after my letter to you,bidding you farewell, but you will remember that in this letter I wrotethat Fate might bring us together again, and it has done so through nofault or wish of mine. The truth is that when I was near to LondonI heard that danger awaited me there on account of certain falseaccusations, such danger that I must return again to Suffolk and seeka ship at some eastern port. Well, I came here last night, and learnedthat you were back out of sanctuary and also that you had quarrelledwith your father who in his anger had imprisoned you in this poor place.An ill deed, as I think, but in truth he is so distraught with grief andracked with sickness that he scarce knows what he does."
Now he paused, but as Eve made no answer went on:
"Pity for your lot, yes, and my love for you that eats my heart out,caused me to seek your father's leave to visit you and see if perchanceI could not soften your wrath against me."
Again he paused and again there was no answer.
"Moreover," he added, "I have news for you which I fear you will thinksad and which, believe me, I pray you, it pains me to give, though theman was my rival and my enemy. Hugh de Cressi, to whom you held yourselfaffianced, is dead."
She quivered a little at the words, but still made no answer, for herwill was very strong.
"I had the story," he continued, "from two of his own men, whom we metflying back to Dunwich from London. It seems that messengers from yourfather reached the Court of the King before this Hugh, telling him ofthe slaying in Blythburgh Marsh. Then came Hugh himself, whereon theKing seized him and his henchman, the archer, and at once put themon their trial as the murderers of John Clavering, of my knights, andThomas of Kessland, which they admitted boldly. Thereon his Grace, whowas beside himself with rage, said that in a time of war, when every manwas needed to fight the French, he was determined by a signal exampleto put a stop to the shedding of blood in these private feuds. So heordered the merchant to the block, and his henchman, the archer, tothe gallows, giving them but one hour to make their peace with God.Moreover," he went on, searching her cold impassive face with his eyes,"I did not escape his wrath, for he gave command that I was to be seizedwherever I might be found and cast into prison till I could be putupon my trial, and my knights with me. Of your father's case he isconsidering since his only son has been slain and he holds him inregard. Therefore it is that I am obliged to avoid London and takerefuge here."
Still Eve remained silent, and in his heart Acour cursed herstubbornness.
"Lady," he proceeded, though with somewhat less assurance--for now hemust leave lies and get to pleading, and never did a suit seem morehopeless, "these things being so through no fault of mine whose handsare innocent of any share in this young man's end, I come to pray ofyou, the sword of death having cut all your oaths, that you will havepity on my love and take me as your husband, as is your father's wishand my heart's desire. Let not your young life be swallowed up in grief,but make it joyous in my company. I can give you greatness, I can giveyou wealth, but most of all I can give you such tender adoration asnever woman had before. Oh! sw
eet Eve, your answer," and he cast himselfupon the ground before her, and, snatching the hem of her robe, pressedit to his lips.
Then at length Eve spoke in a voice that rang like steel:
"Get you gone, knave, whose spurs should be hacked from your heels byscullions. Get you gone, traitor and liar, for well I know that Hugh deCressi is not dead, who had a certain tale to tell of you to the King ofEngland. Get you back to the Duke of Normandy and there ask the price ofyour betrayal of your liege lord, Edward, and show him the plans of oureastern coast and the shores where his army may land in safety."
Acour sprang to his feet and his face went white as ashes. Thrice hestrove to speak but could not. Then with a curse he turned and left thechamber.
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