Colonel Greatheart

by H. C. Bailey

  Colonel Royston was in a thriving way. He came out of the battle with no small repute and from the pursuit with no small fortune. He had a Croat's nose for plunder. The Royalists had bled the midland towns white, and Colonel Royston took the profit of it.

  But he came back to win small thanks of Lucinda. She endured him and she made him suffer. He could always conquer her in a storm of passion. She could always make him smart with her contempt. "Ha, madame wife, do I not content you?" he cried as he held her white in his arms.

  "What is there in you to content a woman?" she panted.

  That was the key of their marriage. If it be victory to make a man despise himself, Lucinda conquered. In his heart he knew that he had sold himself cheap. He had given honor and the quiet mind for a gust of pleasure like a weak girl. But that was the lesser pain. It irked most that he could not subdue her, that he could not make her do him service or respect. She dared treat him as a man of no manhood, and she could have done nothing to sting his fierce heart more keenly. But she got little joy of it. She was not, indeed, of the women who can feel shame. Her will, her passion of self, was too strong for her to convict herself of any evil. She could have sunk to the coarsest sins and known no remorse. Her desires ever held her absolved. But she had failed of the keenest passion of her life, and it gnawed still at her heart. To the end, I think, she loved Colonel Stow after her fashion. When she was crushed helpless in Royston's arms, all her being ached and throbbed for that first lost caress. She, too, had her reward.

  It was on a thunderous July afternoon that Royston strode into their lodging in Thame, with a "Well, wife," (that was the name that hurt her most) "I am the lieutenant general's dear brother in Christ."

  "And that is all you are like to be," said Lucinda.

  "What more of a husband could you want?"

  "I wonder what less I could have," she laughed.

  "You take your blunder with an ill grace, madame wife."

  "O, content you. I like to be your mirror. You writhe when you see yourself. It is only then you please me."

  Royston broke an oath at her. "By God, what I am you have made me." She leaned her chin on her hand and looked at him with steady, scornful eyes. "And what more do you want?" he cried. "You came to me greedy with desire. You have had your fill of that. You lack nothing of rich eating and soft lying. They are my jewels on your bosom. You have no soul for more. What more are you worth?"

  She laughed. "O, I knew you were brute when I ventured with you, but I thought you brute enough to be a master of others. And what are you? Bah, there is no force in you. You are of the herd that follow the bell wether. You are but one of a score of crop-eared, canting knaves, a common thing to be tossed aside when the war is done."

  "I am not so easily set aside, madame," said Royston, glowering at her. "You should know that. And mark you, there be scarce two men in this army can hope for better than I. Fairfax is a spent shot—a good drill master, a good squadron captain, no more. The man with a grip is the lieutenant general, and his day is dawning now. There is but Ireton stands as well with him as I—"

  "O, yes, you were born for an underling," cried Lucinda. "Good fellow, ambition no more and you shall attain."

  Royston glowered at her and she laughed. He strode to her and gripped her shoulder in his dark hand. She looked up at him with steady eyes, but the laugh froze on her lips. He snatched her from her chair and crushed her to his breast. "By Heaven," he said thickly, "if I am an underling, you shall be lower still." He held her so till she was, fighting for breath, then set her roughly down and strode out.… She heard the harsh ring of his laugh.

  So they lived.

  It was some while later, when the army was ready to close upon Oxford, that a stranger came to her in the twilight. He was peacefully attired, like a comfortable trader, but he had something of a swagger. Lucinda saw a dark, lean, scarred face. "Ha, Madame Weston," says he lightly. "Today to thee, tomorrow to me."

  "You mistake me, sir," said Lucinda coldly.

  "Not I, madame. I am of your own tribe—a bird of prey."

  "You are an insolent, sir," and she rose.

  "O, madame, do me reason. I would make you phrases if I despised you. I think you are strong enough for the truth."

  She hesitated and was lost. "What do you want of me, sir?"

  Colonel Strozzi sat down at his ease. "What do you want most in the world? I'll give it you at a price."

  Lucinda laughed. "So will the devil, they say."

  "Strozzi sells cheaper."

  "And what is your price, sir?"

  "Your bel ami, Colonel Royston."

  Lucinda looked at him curiously. "I think you can not know, sir, that I am Colonel Royston's wife."

  "O, has he married you?" said Strozzi with plain surprise. "I suppose they have prejudices here." He looked at her with a grim smile. "Which most requires my sympathy, madame?"

  "You are impudent, sir."

  "It is not my profession to be decent, madame. Well—though you are his wife, I can believe you command him" —he looked her lithe form over with an insolent, appraising eye, and laughed— "that is all I want."

  "And what do you want of him?"

  Colonel Strozzi smiled and tapped his teeth. "I can pay," he said. "Nor we'll not quarrel for the figure, neither."

  "O, you are vague as Grantorto in the romance."

  "A woman of your habit might drink deep of life for a five thousand pound." He watched her keenly.

  But she laughed. "And a man of your habit sell himself for a tester. What then?"

  "Why, madame, your virtuous husband is trusted. So he is worth a price. He commands the dragooners and they have the outposts. His price, you may say, is doubled. O, I am frank with you." Tapping his teeth again, he watched her from under level eyebrows.

  "Then, go on," said Lucinda, her eyes glistening, a smile about her lips.

  Strozzi considered some while first. "My dear, if you were a man I might be afraid of you."

  "Believe me, you have more reason now," Lucinda laughed.

  "Not a whit, pretty one. A woman is cheap steel. You can not bear the edge of a man. You go to flinders at a hard parry."

  "Try!"

  "I do not need. Your profit is with me, and you'll know it." He laughed. "Faith, what a team we had made together, you and I. Fit for the devil's own driving!"

  "O, sir, you do me too much honor. Nor he nor another drives me."

  Strozzi grinned. "I would try my own hand for a crown. But this is woman's folly. To my affair now. Madame, this army of yours has too good generals. We could do well without them. There must be times when they meet together o' nights for a council. All we want of your bel ami, is to let a company of honest men through his outposts. And it is worth—ah—it is worth a five thousand pound."

  "Then it is not worth while," said Lucinda.

  "Is it not? Think of it." Colonel Strozzi rose. "I will wait on you in the morning. You'll need a night to work on my dear Royston. I kiss your hands and your feet." And he was gone.

  Lucinda sat in the deepening dark, curled together, thinking. Colonel Strozzi did her wrong. Her mind outmatched his.…

  Royston came in with a clatter and shouted for lights. She stirred in her chair. "What, wife!" he groped for her, gave her a careless kiss and felt her lips answer. "How now? Here is tender devotion! Have you the vapors, madame?"

  "I think you are a boor in grain. And yet, good lack, I like you."

  "I know. It is my chief shame. Ha!" the candles came and they were both dazzled. "We are creatures of darkness, madame wife."

  She laughed. "I'll lighten yours, sir," and she started up and stood, her hands behind her, leaning a little towards him, a vivid temptation.

  Royston folded his arms. "Do you think I was made to fall?"

  "No, I was," she said softly, and softly stole to him and put her arms about his great strength and nestled against him.

  "What do you want?" said Royston roughly.


  "You!" she whispered and laughed. "Yes, you as you will be! O, I have ached that you should rest one of the herd. But the chance has come now. Great things! Ah, I have trusted you with all I am. Is it not?" Her fingers closed nervously on his.

  "Prithee, madame, be less romantic."

  "O, I can be clear as your head. So, sir—" she thrust him daintily back to a chair and set herself over against him. "Admire me!"

  "I never engaged to that."

  "The more pleasure to make you. Well, I have had a visitor."

  "I am not jealous, madame."

  "A fascinating fellow, one Strozzi." Colonel Royston straightened his back. "He has the good taste to want you, sir."

  Royston laughed. "Faith, madame, you are too prolific. One treason may pay; twins never did."

  "Have I spoken of treason?"

  "You spoke of Strozzi. He has corrupted half Europe. And would corrupt you, too, if it were not done already. By Heaven, madame, if you have mixed my name in any disloyalty, I will denounce you like a common spy."

  "O, sir, I was sure of your affection. Nevertheless, you'll hear me out. He amused me, your friend Strozzi."

  Royston shrugged. "Birds of a feather."

  "You know me better than that," and she laughed. "I am something more than Colonel Strozzi. I think we may surprise him, you and I."

  "Go on with your surprises, madame."

  "Why, sir, he talked of a five thousand. And I think he would come to more than that."

  Colonel Royston put up his eyebrows. Money was four times more worth then than now. It was in his nature to love it for its own sake as well as for power. "This is some notable villainy," said he, and she watched his eyes.

  "I do not know if I saw it all the way," said Lucinda slowly. "But I am not sure it is your profit to serve him."

  "What! Madame Lucinda virtuous?"

  "O, sir, Madame Lucinda is not a fool. Hark you, then, here is his offer. On a night when the generals hold a council, make it safe for a party to come through the outposts and slay them. For which he will pay his five thousand pound, or more, as I think. I had not thought it worth so much."

  "Strozzi would not show you his whole hand, my dear," said Royston with a laugh, and chin on hand meditated.… "Humph, it can be no great mystery. With Cromwell and old Skippon down, we should make an ill show against a strong camisado. And the King has men enough to make one still. We stamped his footmen out at Naseby, but the best of his horse won away. That will be the design. Strozzi and a batch of bravos put the generals down. Then Rupert breaks his horse on us. By God, we should be rabble. He would ride over us."

  "Is it worth a five thousand pound?" said Lucinda quietly.

  Royston, staring at her, rose heavily and began to pace the room. She watched him close and keen. She misprized him, as Strozzi had misprized her. He saw the whole chance of the affair in a moment. With the five thousand—and there might be more in it with care—he could make a brave figure in half a score of countries. The thing was easy enough to do. He could manage it so that there should be no suspicion of him. Was it ugly? Was it too dirty for a soldier? Ay, a year ago he could have answered that… Lucinda heard him laugh. It seemed a little late for foibles. He had been false to the only clean affection of his life. He had no more pride in honor. He had nothing left to follow but greed. And for what men said—why, Walter Butler, Judas of the man that made him, ruffled it with the best at Vienna. So, then, suppose it done, and Rupert's horsemen driving the Puritans like sheep. What remained for Colonel Royston in the rout? He had seen too much, he knew men too well, to believe the war might be ended so. One night of murder would not tame the Puritan temper. The struggle would go on even through despair. In the wild turmoil of it, what a chance for a man who could lead! Nay—

  He checked suddenly. He saw the vivid light in Lucinda's eyes that dwelt on him. He strode to her and laid a rough hand on her shoulder. "Madame wife, what was your design?"

  "I had thought your Strozzi might serve us."

  "Ay, you would be of the devil's side. How?"

  "By cheating himself, sir," said Lucinda and laughed. "O, you are not very clever, you soldiers. Shall I ever make you great, I wonder?"

  "Ay, in hell. Speak out!"

  "Why, then," her voice was low and happy, her eyes shone delight. "Let Colonel Strozzi come and kill. What hinders for you to come down on Colonel Strozzi? The generals are slain, but you have avenged them. There is an attack, but you have beat it off. You are left the best general in all the army, you with fame and power and something of money withal. Sure, sir, this Strozzi is a kindly gentleman."

  "And you are the devil's daughter," said Royston with a grim smile. Then he rested his head on his hand and stared at the ground and she heard him muttering.… Do him justice. It was not the design for a man of little soul. There was something of devilish courage in it, and the confidence of the strong. By the tolerant ethic of his day and his trade, the thing was less vile far than to this nice age of peace. It was traitorous even to him, but at least there was nothing mean in it. He kept no retreat for himself. He set his own life on the edge of danger. But for that, the thing had hardly allured him. It was no safe, no easy task to manage the murder and the neat slaughter of the murderers, to grip the army in an hour of panic and make order and break Rupert's charge. Royston knew all the danger of it better than any man now. Even the affair of Eger, when on the windy February night the Irish made an end of Wallenstein, was hardly more perilous. And he had much to lose. If he bade Strozzi go hang, if he stood faithful to his general, he had a notable place sure. Not first indeed. While Cromwell lived, he knew well enough, he had no chance of that; whether the man were hypocrite or honest fanatic—and Royston had moments of doubt—he could commend himself to the Puritans like no other. There was Ireton too. Royston's eager temper and that keen, silent mind paid each other an equal tribute of distrust. Still, he could win and keep a place not far below the first. It was no small thing in a land where the army must rule. He staked all that and life beside on the chance of a chance.

  But if he won! It might be hard to snatch the mastery of that army, but if he had it, no man should set him aside. The Puritans liked him well. He could be a savory member with the best. They would follow him through death. That army! What a tool for a strong hand! The stanch yeoman breed, wrought with discipline, edged with fanatic faith! The yellow coats of Gustavus were no better. He would speedily make an end of that fools' war. He had as good an eye as Cromwell's for a fight and for Cromwell's rashness and waste of men, a long prenticeship in arms. Soon the army must be master of all England, and if he ruled the army—what end, what end to power?

  He brushed his hand across his eyes. He rose and strode across the room and looked out at the dark a long while. Then he turned to Lucinda. "When is Strozzi to come again, child?"

  Lucinda ran to him laughing. She caught his hands, she leaned toward him, giving all herself. "You are alive! You are alive!"

  Royston looked down at the eager face that strained up to him. With a sudden passionate force he caught her in his arms, crushing her on his breast, lifting her, holding her to his will. And she clung to him and her lips were hungry. They had their hour.

  So in the morning, when Strozzi came, he found Lucinda ready to haggle. She did it well. Strozzi covenanted to pay three thousand pounds before the thing was done and four thousand after. She got a ruby coronet beside. He was very well content. It occurred to his Lombard mind that the first three thousand were all he would ever pay. And Lucinda was of just the same opinion. Strozzi went off to a quiet tavern by Crendon and there Colonel Royston met him and made a plan.

  Royston came back to his lodging well content, and lifted her out of her chair to be kissed. "O, you are greedy," she said, resisting a little.

  "Why, madame wife has made a good bargain. She must get guerdon for it. So. So."

  Lucinda turned her head for his greedy kisses, listless. There was a shadow in her eyes. His rude desire m
ade her remember dead hopes and joys of waking maidenhood.

  "A good bargain, has she not?" said Royston.

  | Contents |

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  The King Looks Through his Fingers

  "LUD," said Molly, the cake girl, "you look like a last year's apple."

  "I feel as sound," said Alcibiade. The cheeks once ruddy and full were fallen lusterless and shriveled.

  "I hate men," said Molly vehemently as she thrust him into a chair and put a tray of gridle cakes under his nose.

  "It's a moral emotion," said Alcibiade with his mouth full.

  "If there were no men there would be no wars," Molly explained.

  "And equally no women. Behold the two delights of life abolished."

  "Am I like a war?" said Molly, her arms akimbo.

  "No, my dear, you are too terrific. Moreover, wars have an end, and you never will."

  "You are a pig," said Molly rather tearfully, and indeed had some excuse in his manners with her cakes.

  Alcibiade laughed. "Every good woman has a thousand children. O, understand me—in good deeds that never die. So she is many times, immortal. With reason she appals me. Consider, Molly. It is a responsibility to have no end."

  "You are a goose," said Molly. "And where is my ardent lover?"

  "I am the whole ark of the late Noah. And want as much to eat. But for the amorous Matthieu-Marc—alas, poor gentleman!" Alcibiade shook his head.

  "Good lack, he is not dead?"

  "Nay, mademoiselle. Only his trousers. Even in this moment he puts a patch on them for your sake. So much does he honor his beloved."

  "I like his way," said Molly, gurgling.

  "It is at least decent," Alcibiade agreed.

  "Bo," said Molly, pursuing the simile of the goose. "And how is your master?"