The King's General

by Daphne Du Maurier

  In a moment we were out of hearing of the joyful noises of the town, and the air was close and heavy with rich scent, and velvet, and silk, and spicy food, and we were in the great banqueting hall with voices sounding hollow and strange beneath the vaulted roof. Now and again would ring out the clear voice of a gentleman-at-arms. "Way for the Duke of Buckingham," and a passage would be cleared for the commander as he passed to and fro among the guests, holding court even as His Majesty himself might do.

  The scene was colorful and exciting, and I--more accustomed to the lazy quietude of Lanrest--felt my heart beat and my cheek flush, and to my youthful fancy it seemed to me that all this glittering display was somehow a tribute to my eighteenth birthday. "How lovely it is! Are you not glad we came?" I said to Mary, and she, always reserved among strangers, touched my arm and murmured, "Speak more softly, Honor. You draw attention to us," and was for drawing back against the wall. I pressed forward, greedy for color, devouring everything with my eyes, smiling even at strangers and caring not at all that I seemed bold, when suddenly the crowd parted, a way was cleared, and here was the Duke's retinue upon us, with the Duke himself not half a yard away. Mary was gone, and I was left alone to bar his path. I remember standing an instant in dismay, and then, losing my composure, I curtsied low, as though to King Charles himself, while a little ripple of laughter floated above my head. Raising my eyes, I saw my brother Jo, his face a strange mixture of amusement and dismay, come forward from among those who thronged the Duke, and bending over me he helped me to my feet, for I had curtsied so low that I was hard upon my heels and could not rise. "May I present my sister Honor, your Grace?" I heard him say. "This is, in point of fact, her eighteenth birthday, and her first venture into society."

  The Duke of Buckingham bowed gravely, and, lifting my hand to his lips, wished me good fortune. "It may be your sister's first venture, my dear Harris," he said graciously, "but with beauty such as she possesses you must see to it that it is not the last." He passed on in a wave of perfume and velvet, with my brother hemmed in beside him, frowning at me over his shoulder, and as I swore under my breath (or possibly not under my breath, but indiscreetly, and a stable oath learned from Robin at that) I heard someone say behind me, "If you care to come out onto the battlements, I will show you how to do that as it should be done." I whipped round, scarlet and indignant, and, looking down upon me from six foot or more, with a sardonic smile upon his face, was an officer still clad in his breastplate of silver, worn over a blue tunic, with a blue and silver sash about his waist. His eyes were golden brown, his hair dark auburn, and I saw that his ears were pierced with small gold rings, for all the world like a Turkish bandit.

  "Do you mean you would show me how to curtsy or how to swear?" I said to him in fury.

  "Why both, if you wish it," he answered. "Your performance at the first was lamentable, and at the second merely amateur."

  His rudeness rendered me speechless, and I could hardly believe my ears. I glanced about me for Mary, or for Elizabeth, Jo's serene and comfortable wife, but they had withdrawn in the crush, and I was hemmed about with strangers. The most fitting thing, then, was to withdraw with dignity. I turned on my heel, and pushed my way through the crowd, making for the entrance, and then I heard the mocking voice behind me once again. "Way for Mistress Honor Harris of Lanrest," proclaimed in high clear tones, while people looked at me astonished, falling back in spite of themselves, and so a passageway was cleared. I walked on with flaming cheeks, scarce knowing what I was doing, and found myself, not in the great entrance as I had hoped, but in the cold air upon the battlements, looking out onto Plymouth Sound, while away below me, in the cobbled square, the townsfolk danced and sang. My odious companion was with me still, and he stood now, with his hand upon his sword, looking down upon me with that same mocking smile on his face.

  "So you are the little maid my sister so much detested," he said.

  "What the devil do you mean?" I asked.

  "I would have spanked you for it had I been her," he said.

  Something in the clip of his voice and the droop of his eye struck a chord in my memory. "Who are you?" I said to him.

  "Sir Richard Grenvile," he replied, "a Colonel in His Majesty's Army, and knighted some little while ago for extreme gallantry in the field." He hummed a little, playing with his sash.

  "It is a pity," I said, "that your manners do not match your courage."

  "And that your deportment," he said, "does not equal your looks."

  This reference to my height--always a sore point, for I had not grown an inch since I was thirteen--stung me to fresh fury. I let fly a string of oaths that Jo and Robin, under the greatest provocation, might have loosed upon the stableman, though certainly not in my presence, and which I had only learned through my inveterate habit of eavesdropping; but if I hoped to make Richard Grenvile blanch I was wasting my breath. He waited until I had finished, his head cocked as though he were a tutor hearing me repeat a lesson, and then he shook his head.

  "There is a certain coarseness about the English tongue that does not do for the occasion," he said. "Spanish is more graceful, and far more satisfying to the temper. Listen to this." And he began to swear in Spanish, loosing upon me a stream of lovely-sounding oaths that would certainly have won my admiration had they come from Jo or Robin. As I listened I looked again for that resemblance to Gartred, but it was gone. He was like his brother Bevil, but with more dash, and certainly more swagger, and I felt he cared not a tinker's curse for anyone's opinion but his own.

  "You must admit," he said, breaking off suddenly, "that I have you beaten." His smile, no longer sardonic but disarming, had me beaten too, and I felt my anger die within me. "Come and look at the fleet," he said, "a ship at anchor is a lovely thing."

  We went to the battlements and stared out across the Sound. It was still and cloudless and the moon had risen. The ships were motionless upon the water, and they stood out in the moonlight carved and clear. The men were singing, and the sound of their voices was borne to us across the water, distinct from the rough jollity of the crowds in the streets below.

  "Were your losses very great at La Rochelle?" I asked him.

  "No more than I expected, in an expedition that was bound to be abortive," he answered, shrugging his shoulders. "Those ships yonder are filled with wounded men who won't recover. It would be more humane to throw them overboard." I looked at him in doubt, wondering if this was a further installment of his peculiar sense of humor. "The only fellows who distinguished themselves were those in the regiment I have the honor to command," he continued, "but as no other officer but myself insists on discipline, it was small wonder that the attack proved a failure."

  His self-assurance was as astounding to me as his former rudeness.

  "Do you talk thus to your superiors?" I asked him.

  "If you mean superior to me in matters military, such a man does not exist," he answered, "but superiors in rank, why yes, invariably. That is why, although I am not yet twenty-nine, I am already the most detested officer in His Majesty's Army." He looked down at me, smiling, and once again I was at a loss for words.

  I thought of my sister Bridget, and how he had trodden upon her dress at Kit's wedding, and I wondered if there was anyone in the world who liked him. "And the Duke of Buckingham?" I said, "Do you speak to him in this way too?"

  "Oh, George and I are old friends," he answered. "He does what he is told. He gives me no trouble. Look at those drunken fellows in the courtyard there. My heaven, if they were under my command I'd hang the bastards." He pointed down to the square below, where a group of brawling soldiers were squabbling around a cask of ale, accompanied by a pack of squealing women.

  "You might excuse them," I said, "pent up at sea so long."

  "They may drain the cask dry, and rape every woman in Plymouth, for all I care," he answered, "but let them do it like men and not like beasts, and clean their filthy jerkins first."

  He turned away from the battl
ement in disgust.

  "Come now," he said. "Let us see if you can curtsy better to me than you did to the Duke. Take your gown in your hands, thus. Bend your right knee, thus. And allow your somewhat insignificant posterior to sink upon your left leg, thus."

  I obeyed him, shaking with laughter, for it seemed to me supremely ridiculous that a colonel in His Majesty's Army should be teaching me deportment upon the battlements of Plymouth Castle.

  "I assure you it is no laughing matter," he said gravely. "A clumsy woman looks so damnably ill bred. There now, that is excellent. Once again. Perfection. You can do it if you try. The truth is you are an idle little baggage, and have never been beaten by your brothers." With appalling coolness, he straightened my gown and rearranged the lace around my shoulders.

  "I object to dining with untidy women," he murmured.

  "I have no intention of sitting down with you to dine," I replied with spirit. "No one else will ask you, I can vouch for that," he answered. "Come, take my arm. I am hungry if you are not."

  He marched me back into the castle, and to my consternation I found that the guests were already seated at the long tables in the banqueting hall, and the servants were bearing in the dishes. We were conspicuous as we entered, and my usual composure fled from me. It was, it may be remembered, my first venture in the social world. "Let us go back," I pleaded, tugging at his arm. "See, there is no place for us; the seats are all filled."

  "Go back? Not on your life. I want my dinner," he replied.

  He pushed his way past the servants, nearly lifting me from my feet. I could see hundreds of faces staring up at us, and heard a hum of conversation, and for one brief moment I caught a glimpse of my sister Mary, seated next to Robin, away down in the center of the hall. I saw the look of horror and astonishment in her eyes, and her mouth frame the word "Honor" as she whispered to my brother. I could do nothing but hurry forward, tripping over my gown, borne on the relentless arm of Richard Grenvile to the high table at the far end of the hall where the Duke of Buckingham sat beside the Countess of Mount Edgcumbe, and the nobility of Cornwall and Devon, such as they were, feasted with decorum above the common herd. "You are taking me to the high table," I protested, dragging at his arm with all my force.

  "What of it?" he asked, looking down at me in astonishment. "I'm damned if I'm going to dine anywhere else. Way there please, for Sir Richard Grenvile." At his voice the servants flattened themselves against the wall, and heads were turned and I saw the Duke of Buckingham break off from his conversation with the Countess. Chairs were pulled forward, people were squeezed aside, and somehow we were seated at the table a hand's stretch from the Duke himself, while the Lady Mount Edgcumbe peered round at me with stony eyes. Richard Grenvile leaned forward with a smile. "You are perhaps acquainted with Honor Harris, Countess," he said, "my sister-in-law. This is her eighteenth birthday." The Countess bowed, and appeared unmoved. "You can disregard her," said Richard Grenvile to me. "She's as deaf as a post. But for God's sake smile, and take that glassy stare from your eye." I prayed for death, but it did not come to me. Instead I took the roast swan that was heaped upon my platter.

  The Duke of Buckingham turned to me, his glass in his hand. "I wish you very many happy returns of the day," he said.

  I murmured my thanks, and shook my curls to hide my flaming cheeks.

  "Merely a formality," said Richard Grenvile in my ear. "Don't let it go to your head. George has a dozen mistresses already, and is in love with the Queen of France."

  He ate with evident enjoyment, vilifying his neighbors with every mouthful, and because he did not trouble to lower his voice I could swear that his words were heard. I tasted nothing of what I ate or drank, but sat like a bewildered fish throughout the long repast. At length the ordeal was over, and I felt myself pulled to my feet by my companion. The wine, which I had swallowed as though it were water, had made jelly of my legs, and I was obliged to lean upon him for support. I have scant memory indeed of what followed next. There was music, and singing, and some Sicilian dancers, strung about with ribbons, performed a tarantella, but their final dizzy whirling was my undoing, and I have shaming recollection of being assisted to some inner apartment of the castle, suitably darkened and discreet, where Nature took her toll of me, and the roast swan knew me no more. I opened my eyes and found myself upon a couch, with Richard Grenvile holding my hand, and dabbing my forehead with his kerchief.

  "You must learn to carry your wine," he said severely.

  I felt very ill, and very ashamed, and tears were near the surface.

  "Ah, no," he said, and his voice, hitherto so clipped and harsh, was oddly tender. "You must not cry. Not on your birthday."

  He continued dabbing at my forehead with the kerchief.

  "I have n-never eaten roast swan b-before," I stammered, closing my eyes in agony at the memory.

  "It was not so much the swan as the burgundy," he murmured. "Lie still now, you will be easier by and by."

  In truth, my head was still reeling, and I was as grateful for his strong hand as I would have been for my mother's. It seemed to me in no wise strange that I should be lying sick in a darkened unknown room with Richard Grenvile tending me, proving himself so comforting a nurse.

  "I hated you at first. I like you better now," I told him.

  "It's hard that I had to make you vomit before I won your approval," he answered. I laughed, and then fell to groaning again, for the swan was not entirely dissipated. "Lean against my shoulder, so," he said to me. "Poor little one, what an ending to an eighteenth birthday." I could feel him shake with silent laughter, and yet his voice and hands were strangely tender, and I was happy with him.

  "You are like your brother Bevil after all," I said.

  "Not I," he answered. "Bevil is a gentleman, and I a scoundrel. I have always been the black sheep of the family."

  "What of Gartred?" I asked.

  "Gartred is a law unto herself," he replied. "You must have learned that when you were a little child, and she was wedded to your brother."

  "I hated her with all my heart," I told him.

  "Small blame to you for that," he answered me.

  "And is she content, now that she is wed again?" I asked him.

  "Gartred will never be content," he said. "She was born greedy, not only for money, but for men too. She had an eye to Antony Denys, her husband now, long before your brother died."

  "And not only Antony Denys," I said.

  "You had long ears for a little maid," he answered.

  I sat up, rearranging my curls, while he helped me with my gown.

  "You have been kind to me," I said, grown suddenly prim, and conscious of my eighteen years. "I shall not forget this evening."

  "Nor I either," he replied.

  "Perhaps," I said, "you had better take me to my brothers."

  "Perhaps I had," he said.

  I stumbled out of the little dark chamber to the lighted corridor. "Where were we all this while?" I asked in doubt, glancing over my shoulder. He laughed, and shook his head.

  "The good God only knows," he answered; "but I wager it is the closet where Mount Edgcumbe combs his hair." He looked down at me smiling, and, for one instant, touched my curls with his hands. "I will tell you one thing," he said, "I have never sat with a woman before while she vomited."

  "Nor I so disgraced myself before a man," I said with dignity.

  Then he bent suddenly, and lifted me in his arms like a child. "Nor have I ever lay hidden in a darkened room with anyone so fair as you, Honor, and not made love to her," he told me, and, holding me for a moment against his heart, he set me on my feet again.

  "And now, if you permit it, I will take you home," he said.

  That is, I think, a very clear and truthful account of my first meeting with Richard Grenvile.

  4

  Within a week of the encounter just recorded I was sent back to my mother at Lanrest, supposedly in disgrace for my ill behavior, and once home I had to be admonis
hed all over again, and hear for the twentieth time how a maid of my age and breeding should conduct herself. It seemed that I had done mischief to everyone. I had shamed my brother Jo by that foolish curtsy to the Duke of Buckingham, and further had offended his wife Elizabeth by taking precedence of her and dining at the high table, to which she had not been invited. I had neglected to remain with my sister Mary during the evening, had been observed by sundry persons cavorting oddly on the battlements with an officer, and had finally appeared some time after midnight from the private rooms within the castle in a sad state of disarray.

  Such conduct would, my mother said severely, condemn me possibly for all time in the eyes of the world, and had my father been alive he would more than likely have packed me off to the nuns for two or three years, in the hopes that my absence for a space of time would cause the incident to be forgotten. As it was, and here invention failed her, and she was left lamenting that, as both my married sisters Cecilia and Bridget were expecting to lie in again and could not receive me, I would be obliged to stay at home.

  It seemed to me very dull after Radford, for Robin had remained there, and my young brother Percy was still at Oxford. I was therefore alone in my disgrace. I remember it was some weeks after I returned, a day in early spring, and I had gone out to sulk by the apple tree, that favorite hiding place of childhood, when I observed a horseman riding up the valley. The trees hid him for a space, and then the sound of horse's hoofs drew nearer, and I realized that he was coming to Lanrest. Thinking it was Robin, I scrambled down from my apple tree and went to the stables, but when I arrived there I found the servant leading a strange horse to the stall--a fine gray--and I caught a glimpse of a tall figure passing into the house. I was for following my old trick of eavesdropping at the parlor door, but just as I was about to do so I observed my mother on the stairs.

  "You will please go to your chamber, Honor, and remain there until my visitor has gone," she said gravely.