CHAPTER VII. THE TAVERN KNIGHT'S STORY
Sir Crispin walked from the window by which he had been standing, to therough bed, and flung himself full length upon it. The only chair thatdismal room contained was occupied by Kenneth. Galliard heaved a sigh ofphysical satisfaction.
"Fore George, I knew not I was so tired," he murmured. And with that helapsed for some moments into silence, his brows contracted in the frownof one who collects his thoughts. At length he began, speaking incalm, unemotional tones that held perchance deeper pathos than a morepassionate utterance could have endowed them with:
"Long ago--twenty years ago--I was, as I have said, an honourable lad,to whom the world was a fair garden, a place of rosebuds, fragrantwith hope. Those, Kenneth, were my illusions. They are the illusions ofyouth; they are youth itself, for when our illusions are gone we areno longer young no matter what years we count. Keep your illusions,Kenneth; treasure them, hoard them jealously for as long as you may."
"I dare swear, sir," answered the lad, with bitter humour, "that suchillusions as I have I shall treasure all my life. You forget, SirCrispin."
"'Slife, I had indeed forgotten. For the moment I had gone back twentyyears, and to-morrow was none so near." He laughed softly, as though hislapse of memory amused him. Then he resumed:
"I was the only son, Kenneth, of the noblest gentleman that everlived--the heir to an ancient, honoured name, and to a castle as proudand lands as fair and broad as any in England.
"They lie who say that from the dawn we may foretell the day. Never wasthere a brighter dawn than that of my life; never a day so wasted; neveran evening so dark. But let that be.
"Our lands were touched upon the northern side by those of a house withwhich we had been at feud for two hundred years and more. Puritans theywere, stern and haughty in their ungodly righteousness. They held usdissolute because we enjoyed the life that God had given us, and there Iam told the hatred first began.
"When I was a lad of your years, Kenneth, the hall--ours was the castle,theirs the hall--was occupied by two young sparks who made little shiftto keep up the pious reputation of their house. They dwelt there withtheir mother--a woman too weak to check their ways, and holding, mayhap,herself, views not altogether puritanical. They discarded the soberblack their forbears had worn for generations, and donned gay Cavaliergarments. They let their love-locks grow; set plumes in their castorsand jewels in their ears; they drank deep, ruffled it with the boldestand decked their utterance with great oaths--for to none doth blasphemycome more readily than to lips that in youth have been overmuch shapedin unwilling prayer.
"Me they avoided as they would a plague, and when at times we met, oursalutations were grave as those of, men on the point of crossing swords.I despised them for their coarse, ruffling apostasy more than evermy father had despised their father for a bigot, and they guessing orknowing by instinct what was in my mind held me in deeper rancour eventhan their ancestors had done mine. And more galling still and yet asharper spur to their hatred did those whelps find in the realizationthat all the countryside held, as it had held for ages, us to be theirbetters. A hard blow to their pride was that, but their revenge was notlong in coming.
"It chanced they had a cousin--a maid as sweet and fair and pure as theywere hideous and foul. We met in the meads--she and I. Spring was thetime--God! It seems but yesterday!--and each in our bearing towards theother forgot the traditions of the names we bore. And as at first we hadmet by chance, so did we meet later by contrivance, not once or twice,but many times. God, how sweet she was! How sweet was all the world! Howsweet it was to live and to be young! We loved. How else could ithave been? What to us were traditions, what to us the hatred that forcenturies had held our families asunder? In us it lay to set aside allthat.
"And so I sought my father. He cursed me at first for an unnatural sonwho left unheeded the dictates of our blood. But anon, when on myknees I had urged my cause with all the eloquent fervour that is butof youth--youth that loves--my father cursed no more. His thoughts wentback maybe to the days of his own youth, and he bade me rise and goa-wooing as I listed. Nay, more than that he did. The first of our namewas he out of ten generations to set foot across the threshold of thehall; he went on my behalf to sue for their cousin's hand.
"Then was their hour. To them that had been taught the humiliatinglesson that we were their betters, one of us came suing. They from whomthe countryside looked for silence when one of us spoke, had it in theirhands at length to say us nay. And they said it. What answer my fathermade them, Kenneth, I know not, but very white was his face when I methim on the castle steps on his return. In burning words he told me ofthe insult they had put upon him, then silently he pointed to the Toledothat two years before he had brought me out of Spain, and left me. ButI had understood. Softly I unsheathed that virgin blade and read theSpanish inscription, that through my tears of rage and shame seemedblurred; a proud inscription was it, instinct with the punctilioof proud Spain--'Draw me not without motive, sheathe me not withouthonour.' Motive there was and to spare; honour I swore there should be;and with that oath, and that brave sword girt to me, I set out to myfirst combat."
Sir Crispin paused and a sigh escaped him, followed by a laugh ofbitterness.
"I lost that sword years ago," said he musingly. "The sword and I havebeen close friends in life, but my companion has been a blade of coarsermake, carrying no inscriptions to prick at a man's conscience and make acraven of him."
He laughed again, and again he fell a-musing, till Kenneth's voicearoused him.
"Your story, sir."
Twilight shadows were gathering in their garret, and as he turned hisface towards the youth, he was unable to make out his features; buthis tone had been eager, and Crispin noted that he sat with head bentforward and that his eyes shone feverishly.
"It interests you, eh? Ah, well--hot foot I went to the hall, and withburning words I called upon those dogs to render satisfaction for thedishonour they had put upon my house. Will you believe, Kenneth, thatthey denied me? They sheltered their craven lives behind a shield ofmock valour. They would not fight a boy, they said, and bade me get mybeard grown when haply they would give ear to my grievance.
"And so, a shame and rage a hundredfold more bitter than that which Ihad borne thither did I carry thence. My father bade me treasure up thememory of it against the time when my riper years should compel them toattend me, and this, by my every hope of heaven, I swore to do. He bademe further efface for ever from my mind all thought or hope of unionwith their cousin, and though I made him no answer at the time, yet inmy heart I promised to obey him in that, too. But I was young--scarcetwenty. A week without sight of my mistress and I grew sick withdespair. Then at length I came upon her, pale and tearful, one evening,and in an agony of passion and hopelessness I flung myself at her feet,and implored her to keep true to me and wait, and she, poor maid, to herundoing swore that she would. You are yourself a lover, Kenneth, and youmay guess something of the impatience that anon beset me. How could Iwait? I asked her this.
"Some fifty miles from the castle there was a little farm, in the veryheart of the country, which had been left me by a sister of my mother's.Thither I now implored her to repair with me. I would find a priest towed us, and there we should live a while in happiness, in solitude, andin love. An alluring picture did I draw with all a lover's cunning, andto the charms of it she fell a victim. We fled three days later.
"We were wed in the village that pays allegiance to the castle,and thereafter we travelled swiftly and undisturbed to that littlehomestead. There in solitude, with but two servants--a man and a maidwhom I could trust--we lived and loved, and for a season, brief as allhappiness is doomed to be, we were happy. Her cousins had no knowledgeof that farm of mine, and though they searched the country for manya mile around, they searched in vain. My father knew--as I learnedafterwards--but deeming that what was done might not be undone, he heldhis peace. In the following spring a babe was born to us, and our blis
smade heaven of that cottage.
"Twas a month or so after the birth of our child that the blowdescended. I was away, enjoying alone the pleasures of the chase; my manwas gone a journey to the nearest town, whence he would not return untilthe morrow. Oft have I cursed the folly that led me to take my gun andgo forth into the woods, leaving no protector for my wife but one weakwoman.
"I returned earlier than I had thought to do, led mayhap by some angelthat sought to have me back in time. But I came too late. At my gateI found two freshly ridden horses tethered, and it was with a dullforeboding in my heart that I sprang through the open door. Within--OGod, the anguish of it!--stretched on the floor I beheld my love, agaping sword-wound in her side, and the ground all bloody about her.For a moment I stood dumb in the spell of that horror, then a movementbeyond, against the wall, aroused me, and I beheld her murdererscowering there, one with a naked sword in his hand.
"In that fell hour, Kenneth, my whole nature changed, and one who hadever been gentle was transformed into the violent, passionate man thatyou have known. As my eye encountered then her cousins, my blood seemedon the instant curdled in my veins; my teeth were set hard; my nervesand sinews knotted; my hands instinctively shifted to the barrel of myfowling-piece and clutched it with the fierceness that was in me--thefierceness of the beast about to spring upon those that have brought itto bay.
"For a moment I stood swaying there, my eyes upon them, and holdingtheir craven glances fascinated. Then with a roar I leapt forward, thestock of my fowling-piece swung high above my head. And, as God lives,Kenneth, I had sent them straight to hell ere they could have raised ahand or made a cry to stay me. But as I sprang my foot slipped in theblood of my beloved, and in my fall I came close to her where she lay.The fowling-piece had escaped my grasp and crashed against the wall.
"I scarce knew what I did, but as I lay beside her it came to me that Idid not wish to rise again--that already I had lived overlong. It cameto me that, seeing me fallen, haply those cowards would seize the chanceto make an end of me as I lay. I wished it so in that moment's frenzy,for I made no attempt to rise or to defend myself; instead I set my armsabout my poor murdered love, and against her cold cheek I set my facethat was well-nigh as cold.
"And thus I lay, nor did they keep me long. A sword was passed throughme from back to breast, whilst he who did it cursed me with a fouloath. The room grew dim; methought it swayed and that the walls weretottering; there was a buzz of sound in my ears, then a piercing cry ina baby voice. At the sound of it I vaguely wished for the strength torise. As in the distance, I heard one of those butchers cry, "Haste,man; slit me that squalling bastard's throat!" And then I must haveswooned."
Kenneth shuddered.
"My God, how horrible!" he cried. "But you were avenged, Sir Crispin,"he added eagerly; "you were avenged?"
"When I regained consciousness," Crispin continued, as if he had notheard Kenneth's exclamation, "the cottage was in flames, set alight bythem to burn the evidence of their foul deed. What I did I know not. Ihave tried to urge my memory along from the point of my awakening, butin vain. By what miracle I crawled forth, I cannot tell; but in themorning I was found by my man lying prone in the garden, half a dozenpaces from the blackened ruins of the cottage, as near death as man maygo and live.
"God willed that I should not die, but it was close upon a year beforeI was restored to any semblance of my former self, and then I was sochanged that I was hardly to be recognized as that same joyous, vigorouslad, who had set out, fowling-piece on shoulder, one fine morning a yearagone. There was grey in my hair, as much as there is now, though I wasbut twenty-one; my face was seared and marked as that of a man who hadlived twice my years. It was to my faithful servant that I owed my life,though I ask myself to-night whether I have cause for gratitude towardshim on that score.
"So soon as I had regained sufficient strength, I went secretly home,wishing that men might continue to believe me dead. My father I foundmuch aged by grief, but he was kind and tender with me beyond all words.From him I had it that our enemies were gone to France; it would seemthey had thought it better to remain absent for a while. He had learntthat they were in Paris, and hither I determined forthwith to followthem. Vainly did my father remonstrate with me; vainly did he urge merather: to bear my story to the King at Whitehall and seek for justice.I had been well advised had I obeyed this counsel, but I burned to takemy vengeance with my own hands, and with this purpose I repaired toFrance.
"Two nights after my arrival in Paris it was my ill-fortune to beembroiled in a rough-and-tumble in the streets, and by an ill-chance Ikilled a man--the first was he of several that I have sent whither Iam going to-morrow. The affair was like to have cost me my life, but byanother of those miracles which have prolonged it, I was sent insteadto the galleys on the Mediterranean. It was only wanting that, after allthat already I had endured, I should become a galley-slave!
"For twelve long years I toiled at an oar, and waited. If I lived Iwould return to England; and if I returned, woe unto those that hadwrecked my life--my body and my soul. I did live, and I did return. TheCivil War had broken out, and I came to throw my sword into the balanceon the King's side: I came, too, to be avenged, but that would wait.
"Meanwhile, the score had grown heavier. I went home to find the castlein usurping hands--in the hands of my enemies. My father was dead; hedied a few months after I had gone to France; and those murderers hadadvanced a claim that through my marriage with their cousin, since dead,and through my own death, there being no next of kin, they werethe heirs-at-law. The Parliament allowed their claim, and they wereinstalled. But when I came they were away, following the fortunes of theParliament that had served them so well. And so I determined to let myvengeance wait until the war were ended and the Parliament destroyed. Ina hundred engagements did I distinguish myself by my recklessness evenas at other seasons I distinguished myself by my debaucheries.
"Ah, Kenneth, you have been hard upon me for my vices, for my abuses ofthe cup, and all the rest. But can you be hard upon me still, knowingwhat I had suffered, and what a weight of misery I bore with me? I,whose life was wrecked beyond salvation; who only lived that I mightslit the throats of those that had so irreparably wronged me. Think youstill that it was so vicious a thing, so unpardonable an offence to seekthe blessed nepenthe of the wine-cup, the heavenly forgetfulness thatits abuses brought me? Is it strange that I became known as the wildesttantivy boy that rode with the King? What else had I?"
"In all truth your trials were sore," said the lad in a voice thatcontained a note of sympathy. And yet there was a certain restraint thatcaught the Tavern Knight's ear. He turned his head and bent his eyes inthe lad's direction, but it was quite dark by now, and he failed to makeout his companion's face.
"My tale is told, Kenneth. The rest you can guess. The King did notprevail and I was forced to fly from England with those others whoescaped from the butchers that had made a martyr of Charles. I tookservice in France under the great Conde, and I saw some mighty battles.At length came the council of Breda and the invitation to Charles theSecond to receive the crown of Scotland. I set out again to follow hisfortunes as I had followed his father's, realizing that by so doing Ifollowed my own, and that did he prevail I should have the redress andvengeance so long awaited. To-day has dashed my last hope; to-morrowat this hour it will not signify. And yet much would I give to have myfingers on the throats of those two hounds before the hangman's closearound my own."
There was a spell of silence as the two men sat, both breathing heavilyin the gloom that enveloped them. At length:
"You have heard my story, Kenneth," said Crispin.
"I have heard, Sir Crispin, and God knows I pity you."
That was all, and Galliard felt that it was not enough. He had laceratedhis soul with those grim memories to earn a yet kinder word. He hadlooked even to hear the lad suing for pardon for the harsh opinionswherein he had held him. Strange was this yearning of his for the boy'ssympathy. He who for
twenty years had gone unloving and unloved, soughtnow in his extremity affection from a fellow-man.
And so in the gloom he waited for a kinder word that came not; then--sourgent was his need--he set himself to beg it.
"Can you not understand now, Kenneth, how I came to fall so low? Can younot understand this dissoluteness of mine, which led them to dub me theTavern Knight after the King conferred upon me the honour of knighthoodfor that stand of mine in Fifeshire? You must understand, Kenneth,"he insisted almost piteously, "and knowing all, you must judge me moremercifully than hitherto."
"It is not mine to judge, Sir Crispin. I pity you with all my heart,"the lad replied, not ungently.
Still the knight was dissatisfied. "Yours it is to judge as every manmay judge his fellowman. You mean it is not yours to sentence. But ifyours it were, Kenneth, what then?"
The lad paused a moment ere he answered. His bigoted Presbyteriantraining was strong within him, and although, as he said, he pitiedGalliard, yet to him whose mind was stuffed with life's precepts, andwho knew naught of the trials it brings to some and the temptations towhich they were not human did they not succumb--it seemed that vice wasnot to be excused by misfortune. Out of mercy then he paused, and fora moment he had it even in his mind to cheer his fellow-captive with alie. Then, remembering that he was to die upon the morrow, and thatat such a time it was not well to risk the perdition of his soul by anuntruth, however merciful, he answered slowly:
"Were I to judge you, since you ask me, sir, I should be mercifulbecause of your misfortunes. And yet, Sir Crispin, your profligacy andthe evil you have wrought in life must weigh heavily against you." Hadthis immaculate bigot, this churlish milksop been as candid with himselfas he was with Crispin, he must have recognized that it was mainlyCrispin's offences towards himself that his mind now dwelt on in deeperrancour than became one so well acquainted with the Lord's Prayer.
"You had not cause enough," he added impressively, "to defile your souland risk its eternal damnation because the evil of others had wreckedyour life."
Crispin drew breath with the sharp hiss of one in pain, and for a momentafter all was still. Then a bitter laugh broke from him.
"Bravely answered, reverend sir," he cried with biting scorn. "I marvelonly that you left your pulpit to gird on a sword; that you doffed yourcassock to don a cuirass. Here is a text for you who deal in texts, mybrave Jack Presbyter--'Judge you your neighbour as you would yourselfbe judged; be merciful as you would hope for mercy.' Chew you the cud ofthat until the hangman's coming in the morning. Good night to you."
And throwing himself back upon the bed, Crispin sought comfort in sleep.His limbs were heavy and his heart was sick.
"You misapprehend me, Sir Crispin," cried the lad, stung almost to shameby Galliard's reproach, and also mayhap into some fear that hereafterhe should find little mercy for his own lack of it towards a poorfellow-sinner. "I spoke not as I would judge, but as the Churchteaches."
"If the Church teaches no better I rejoice that I was no churchman,"grunted Crispin.
"For myself," the lad pursued, heeding not the irreverent interruption,"as I have said, I pity you with all my heart. More than that, so deeplydo I feel, so great a loathing and indignation has your story sown inmy heart, that were our liberty now restored us I would willingly joinhands with you in wreaking vengeance on these evildoers."
Sir Crispin laughed. He judged the tone rather than the words, and itrang hollow.
"Where are your wits, O casuist?" he cried mockingly. "Where are yourdoctrines? 'Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord!' Pah!"
And with that final ejaculation, pregnant with contempt and bitterness,he composed himself to sleep.
He was accursed he told himself. He must die alone, as he had lived.
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