CHAPTER XIX
THE DOOM
It was the last night of February, the bitterest night perhaps of allthat sad winter, when at length Hugh de Cressi, Grey Dick, and DavidDay rode into the town of Dunwich. Only that morning they had landed atYarmouth after a long, long journey whereof the perils and the horrorsmay be guessed but need not be written. France, through which they hadpassed, seemed to be but one vast grave over which the wail of those whostill survived went up without cease to the cold, unpitying heavens.
Here in England the tale was still the same. Thus in the great seaportof Yarmouth scarcely enough people were left alive to inter theunshriven dead, nor of these would any stay to speak with them, fearinglest they had brought a fresh curse from overseas. Even the horses thatthey rode they took from a stable where they whinnied hungrily, nonebeing there to feed them, leaving in their place a writing of the debt.
Betwixt Yarmouth and Dunwich they had travelled through smitten townsand villages, where a few wandered fearfully, distraught with sorrow orseeking food. In the streets the very dogs lay dead and in the fieldsthey saw the carcasses of cattle dragged from the smokeless and desertedsteadings and half hidden in a winding-sheet of snow. For the BlackPlague spared neither man nor beast.
At the little port of Lowestoft they met a sullen sailorman who stoodstaring at the beach whereon his fishing boat lay overturned and awashfor lack of hands to drag it out of reach of the angry sea. They askedhim if he knew of how it fared with Dunwich.
By way of answer he cursed them, adding:
"Must I be forever pestered as to Dunwich? This is the third time oflate that I have heard of Dunwich from wandering folk. Begone thitherand gather tidings for yourselves, which I hope will please you as wellas they do me."
"Now, if I were not in haste I would stay a while to teach you manners,you foul-mouthed churl," muttered Grey Dick between his teeth.
"Let the fellow be," said Hugh wearily; "the men of Lowestoft have everhated those of Dunwich, and it seems that a common woe does not softenhearts. Soon enough we shall learn the truth."
"Ay, you'll learn it soon enough," shouted the brute after them."Dunwich boats won't steel Lowestoft herrings for many a year!"
So they rode on through Kessland, which they reached as night wasclosing in, through Benacre and Wrentham, also past houses in which noneseemed to dwell.
"Murgh has been here before us, I think," said Dick at length.
"Then I hope that we may overtake him," answered Hugh with a smile, "forI need his tidings--or his rest. Oh! Dick, Dick," he added, "I wonderhas ever man borne a heavier burden for all this weary while? If I weresure, it would not be so bad, for when earthly hope is done we may turnto other comfort. But I'm not sure; Basil may have lied. The priestby the pit could only swear to the red cloak, of which there are many,though few be buried in them. And, Dick, there are worse things thanthat. Perchance Acour got her after all."
"And perchance he didn't," answered Dick. "Well, fret on if you will;the thing does not trouble me who for my part am sure enough."
"Of what, man, of what?"
"Of seeing the lady Eve ere long."
"In this world or the next, Dick?"
"In this. I don't reckon of the next, mayhap there we shall be blind andnot see. Besides, of what use is that world to you where it is writtenthat they neither marry nor are given in marriage, but are as theangels? You'll make no good angel, I'm thinking, while as for the ladyEve, she's too human for it as yet."
"Why do you think we shall see her on earth?" asked Hugh, ignoring thesereflections.
"Because he who is called the Helper said as much, and whatever he maybe he is no liar. Do you not remember what Red Eve told you when sheawoke from that dream of hers, which was no dream? And do you notremember what Sir Andrew told you as to a certain meeting in thesnow--pest upon it!" and he wiped some of the driving flakes from hisface--"Sir Andrew, who is a saint, and, therefore, like Murgh, can be noliar?"
"If you think thus," said Hugh in a new voice, "why did you not say sobefore?"
"Because I love not argument, master, and if I had, you would ever havereasoned with me from Avignon to Yarmouth town and spoilt my sleep ofnights. Oh! where is your faith?"
"What is faith, Dick?"
"The gift of belief, master. A very great gift, seeing what a manbelieves is and will be true for him, however false it may prove forothers. He who believes nothing, sows nothing, and therefore reapsnothing, good or ill."
"Who taught you these things, Dick?"
"One whom I am not likely to forget, or you, either. One who is mymaster at archery and whose words, like his arrows, though they be few,yet strike the heart of hidden truth. Oh, fear not, doubtless sorrowwaits you yonder," and he pointed toward Dunwich. "Yet it comes tomy lips that there's joy beyond the sorrows, the joy of battle and oflove--for those who care for love, which I think foolishness. Therestands a farm, and the farmer is a friend of mine, or used to be. Let usgo thither and feed these poor beasts and ourselves, or I think we willnever come to Dunwich through this cold and snow. Moreover," he addedthoughtfully, "joy or sorrow or both of them are best met by full men,and I wish to look to your harness and my own, for sword and axe arerusted with the sea. Who knows but that we may need them in Dunwich, orbeyond, when we meet with Murgh, as he promised that we should."
So they rode up to the house and found Dick's friend, the farmer, lyingdead there in his own yard, whither his family had dragged him ere theydetermined to fly the place. Still, there was fodder in the stable andthey lit a fire in the kitchen hearth and drank of the wine which theyhad brought with them from the ship, and ate of the bacon which stillhung from the rafters. This done, they lay down to sleep a while. Aboutone in the morning, however, Hugh roused Dick and David, saying that hecould rest no more and that something in his heart bade him push on toDunwich.
"Then let us follow your heart, master," said Dick, yawning. "Yet I wishit had waited till dawn to move you. Yes, let us follow your heart togood or evil. David, go you out and saddle up those nags."
For Dick had worked late at their mail and weapons, which now werebright and sharp again, and was very weary.
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