by John Buchan
CHAPTER I.
ON THE HIGH MOORS.
Before me stretched a black heath, over which the mist blew in gusts, andthrough whose midst the road crept like an adder. Great storm-marked hillsflanked me on either side, and since I set out I had seen their harshoutline against a thick sky, until I longed for flat ground to rest mysight upon. The way was damp, and the soft mountain gravel sank under myhorse's feet; and ever and anon my legs were splashed by the water fromsome pool which the rain had left. Shrill mountain birds flew around, andsent their cries through the cold air. Sometimes the fog would lift for amoment from the face of the land and show me a hilltop or the leadenglimmer of a loch, but nothing more--no green field or homestead; only abarren and accursed desert.
Neither horse nor man was in any spirit. My back ached, and I shivered inmy sodden garments, while my eyes were dim from gazing on flying clouds.The poor beast stumbled often, for he had traveled far on little fodder,and a hill-road was a new thing in his experience. Saladin I calledhim--for I had fancied that there was something Turkish about his blackface, with the heavy turban-like band above his forehead--in my oldfortunate days when I bought him. He was a fine horse of the Normandybreed, and had carried me on many a wild journey, though on none so forlornas this.
But to speak of myself. I am Jean de Rohaine, at your service; Sieur deRohaine in the province of Touraine--a gentleman, I trust, though one in asorry plight. And how I came to be in the wild highlands of the placecalled Galloway, in the bare kingdom of Scotland, I must haste to tell. Inthe old days, when I had lived as became my rank in my native land, I hadmet a Scot,--one Kennedy by name,--a great man in his own country, withwhom I struck up an intimate friendship. He and I were as brothers, and heswore that if I came to visit him in his own home he would see to it that Ishould have the best. I thanked him at the time for his bidding, butthought little more of it.
Now, by ill fortune, the time came when, what with gaming and pleasuring, Iwas a beggared man, and I bethought me of the Scot's offer. I had likedthe man well, and I considered how it would be no ill thing to abide inthat country till I should find some means of bettering my affairs. So Itook ship and came to the town of Ayr, from which 'twas but a day's ride tothe house of my friend. 'Twas in midsummer when I landed, and the placelooked not so bare as I had feared, as I rode along between green meadowsto my destination. There I found Quentin Kennedy, somewhat grown old andmore full in flesh than I remembered him in the past. He had been a tall,black-avised man when I first knew him; now he was grizzled,--whether fromhard living or the harshness of northern weather I know not,--and heavierthan a man of action is wont to be. He greeted me most hospitably, puttinghis house at my bidding, and swearing that I should abide and keep himcompany and go no more back to the South.
So for near a month I stayed there, and such a time of riot and hilarity Iscarce remember. _Mon Dieu_, but the feasting and the sporting would haverejoiced the hearts of my comrades of the Rue Margot! I had already learnedmuch of the Scots tongue at the college in Paris, where every second manhails from this land, and now I was soon perfect in it, speaking it all butas well as my host. 'Tis a gift I have, for I well remember how, when Iconsorted for some months in the low countries with an Italian of Milan, Ipicked up a fair knowledge of his speech. So now I found myself in themidst of men of spirit, and a rare life we led. The gentlemen of the placewould come much about the house, and I promise you 'twas not seldom we sawthe morning in as we sat at wine. There was, too, the greatest sport atcoursing and hunting the deer in Kennedy's lands by the Water of Doon.
Yet there was that I liked not among the fellows who came thither, nay,even in my friend himself. We have a proverb in France that the devil whenhe spoils a German in the making turns him into a Scot, and for certainthere was much boorishness among them, which to my mind sits ill ongentlemen. They would jest at one another till I thought that in atwinkling swords would be out, and lo! I soon found that 'twas but done forsport, and with no evil intent. They were clownish in their understanding,little recking of the feelings of a man of honor, but quick to grow fierceon some tittle of provocation which another would scarce notice. Indeed,'tis my belief that one of this nation is best in his youth, for Kennedy,whom I well remembered as a man of courage and breeding, had grown grosserand more sottish with his years, till I was fain to ask where was my friendof the past.
And now I come to that which brought on my departure and my misfortunes.'Twas one night as I returned weary from riding after a stag in the haughby the river, that Quentin cried hastily, as I entered, that now he hadfound something worthy of my attention.
"To-morrow, Jock," says he, "you will see sport. There has been some cursedcommotion among the folk of the hills, and I am out the morrow to redd themarches. You shall have a troop of horse and ride with me, and, God'sdeath, we will have a taste of better work!"
I cried out that I could have asked for naught better, and, indeed, I wasoverjoyed that the hard drinking and idleness were at an end, and that therigors of warfare lay before me. For I am a soldier by birth and byprofession, and I love the jingle of steel and the rush of battle.
So, on the morrow, I rode to the mountains with a score of dragoons behindme, glad and hopeful. _Diable!_ How shall I tell my disappointment? Thefirst day I had seen all--and more than I wished. We fought, not with menlike ourselves, but with women and children and unarmed yokels, andbutchered like Cossacks more than Christians. I grew sick of the work, andwould have none of it, but led my men to the rendezvous sullenly, and hotat heart. 'Twas well the night was late when we arrived, else I should havemet with Kennedy there and then, and God knows what might have happened.
The next day, in a great fit of loathing, I followed my host again, hopingthat the worst was over, and that henceforth I should have something moreto my stomach. But little I knew of the men with whom I journeyed. Therewas a cottage there, a shepherd's house, and God! they burned it down, andthe man they shot before his wife and children, speaking naught to him butfoul-mouthed reproaches and jabber about some creed which was strange tome. I could not prevent it, though 'twas all that I could do to keep myselffrom a mad attack.
I rode up to Quentin Kennedy.
"Sir," I said, "I have had great kindness at your hands, but you and I mustpart. I see that we are made of different stuff. I can endure war, but notmassacre."
He laughed at my scruples, incredulous of my purpose, until at last he sawthat I was fixed in my determination. Then he spoke half kindly:
"This is a small matter to stand between me and thee. I am a servant of theking, and but do my duty. I little thought to have disloyalty preached fromyour lips; but bide with me, and I promise that you shall see no more ofit."
But my anger was too great, and I would have none of him. Then--and now Imarvel at the man's forbearance--he offered me money to recompense me formy trouble. 'Twas honestly meant, and oft have I regretted my action, butto me in my fury it seemed but an added insult.
"Nay," said I angrily; "I take no payment from butchers. I am a gentleman,if a poor one."
At this he flushed wrathfully, and I thought for an instant that he wouldhave drawn on me; but he refrained, and I rode off alone among the moors. Iknew naught of the land, and I must have taken the wrong way, for noonfound me hopelessly mazed among a tangle of rocks and hills andpeat-mosses. Verily, Quentin Kennedy had taken the best revenge bysuffering me to follow my own leading.
In the early hours of my journey my head was in such a whirl of wrath anddismay, that I had little power to think settled thoughts. I was in adesperate confusion, half angry at my own haste, and half bitter at thecoldness of a friend who would permit a stranger to ride off alone withscarce a word of regret. When I have thought the matter out in after days,I have been as perplexed as ever; yet it still seems to me, though I knownot how, that I acted as any man of honor and heart would approve. Stillthis thought was little present to me in my discomfort, as I plashedthrough the sodden turf.
I had brea
kfasted at Kennedy's house of Dunpeel in the early morning, andsince I had no provision of any sort with me, 'twas not long ere thebiting of hunger began to set in. My race is a hardy stock, used to muchhardships and rough fare, but in this inclement land my heart failed mewholly, and I grew sick and giddy, what with the famishing and the coldrain. For, though 'twas late August, the month of harvest and fruit-time inmy own fair land, it seemed more like winter. The gusts of sharp wind camedriving out of the mist and pierced me to the very marrow. So chill werethey that my garments were of no avail to avert them; being, indeed, of thethinnest, and cut according to the fashion of fine cloth for summer wearat the shows and gallantries of the town. A pretty change, thought I, fromthe gardens of Versailles and the trim streets of Paris to this surly land;and sad it was to see my cloak, meant for no rougher breeze than the gentlesouth, tossed and scattered by a grim wind.
I have marked it often, and here I proved its truth, that man's thoughtsturn always to the opposites of his present state. Here was I, set in themost uncharitable land on earth; and yet ever before my eyes would comebrief visions of the gay country which I had forsaken. In a gap of hill Ifancied that I descried a level distance with sunny vineyards and richorchards, to which I must surely come if I but hastened. When I stooped todrink at a stream, I fancied ere I drank it that the water would taste likethe Bordeaux I was wont to drink at the little hostelry in the Rue Margot;and when the tasteless liquid once entered my mouth, the disenchantment wassevere. I met one peasant, an old man bent with toil, coarse-featured, yetnot without some gleams of kindness, and I could not refrain fromaddressing him in my native tongue. For though I could make some shape athis barbarous patois, in my present distress it came but uneasily from mylips. He stared at me stupidly, and when I repeated the question in theEnglish, he made some unintelligible reply, and stumbled onward in his way.I watched his poor figure as he walked. Such, thought I, are the _canaille_of the land, and 'tis little wonder if their bodies be misshapen, and theirminds dull, for an archangel would become a boor if he dwelt here for anyspace of time.
But enough of such dreams, and God knows no man had ever less cause fordreaming. Where was I to go, and what might my purpose be in thiswilderness which men call the world? An empty belly and a wet skin do nottend to sedate thinking, so small wonder if I saw little ahead. I wasmaking for the end of the earth, caring little in what direction, weary andsick of heart, with sharp anger at the past, and never a hope for themorrow.
Yet, even in my direst days, I have ever found some grain of expectation toconsole me. I had five crowns in my purse; little enough, but sufficient towin me a dinner and a bed at some cheap hostelry. So all through the grayafternoon I looked sharply for a house, mistaking every monstrous bowlderfor a gable-end. I cheered my heart with thinking of dainties to be lookedfor; a dish of boiled fish, or a piece of mutton from one of the wild-facedsheep which bounded ever and anon across my path. Nay, I was in no mood tobe fastidious. I would e'en be content with a poor fare, provided always Icould succeed in swallowing it, for my desire soon became less for theattainment of a pleasure than for the alleviation of a discomfort. For Iwas ravenous as a hawk, and had it in my heart more than once to dismount,and seek for the sparse hill-berries.
And, indeed, this was like to have been my predicament, for the day grewlate and I came no nearer a human dwelling. The valley in which I rodegrew wider, about to open, as I thought, into the dale of a river. Thehills, from rising steeply by the wayside, were withdrawn to the distanceof maybe a mile, where they lifted their faces through the network of themist. All the land between them, save a strip where the road lay, wasfilled with a black marsh, where moor birds made a most dreary wailing. Itminded me of the cries of the innocents whom King Herod slew, as I had seenthe dead represented outside the village church of Rohaine in my far-awayhomeland. My heart grew sore with longing. I had bartered my nativecountry for the most dismal on earth, and all for nothing. Madman that Iwas, were it not better to be a beggar in France than a horse-captain inany other place? I cursed my folly sorely, as each fresh blast sent ashiver through my body. Nor was my horse in any better state--Saladin, whomI had seen gayly decked at a procession with ribbons and pretty favors, whohad carried me so often and so far, who had always fared on the best. Thepoor beast was in a woeful plight, with his pasterns bleeding from therough stones and his head bent with weariness. Verily, I pitied him morethan myself, and if I had had a crust we should have shared it.
The night came in, black as a draw-well and stormy as the Day of Doom. Ihad now no little trouble in picking out the way from among the treacherousmorasses. Of a sudden my horse would have a forefoot in a pool of blackpeat-water, from which I would scarce, by much pulling, recover him. Asharp jag of stone in the way would all but bring him to his knees. So wedragged wearifully along, scarce fearing, caring, hoping for anything inthis world or another.
It was, I judge, an hour after nightfall, about nine of the clock, when Ifancied that some glimmer shot through the thick darkness. I could haveclapped my hands for joy had I been able; but alas! these were so stiff,that clapping was as far from me as from a man with the palsy.
"Courage!" said I, "courage, Saladin! There is yet hope for us!"
The poor animal seemed to share in my expectations. He carried me quickerforward, so that soon the feeble gleam had grown to a broad light. Inn ordwelling, thought I, there I stay, for I will go not a foot further for manor devil. My sword must e'en be my _fourrier_ to get me a night's lodging.Then I saw the house, a low, dark place, unillumined save for that frontwindow which shone as an invitation to travelers. In a minute I was at thethreshold. There, in truth, was the sign flapping above the lintel. 'Twasan inn at length, and my heart leaped out in gratitude.