Complete Works of Stanley J Weyman

by Stanley J Weyman

  I sprang up the stairs into the room and looked round, my eyes seeming to take in everything at once. It was a big bare room, with signs of habitation only in one corner. On the side toward the town was a long, low window, through which — a score of the diamond panes were broken already — the flare of the besiegers’ torches fell luridly on the walls and vaulted roof. By the dull embers of a wood fire, over which hung a huge black pot, Master Bertie was lying on the boards, breathing loudly and painfully, his head pillowed on the Duchess’s kerchief. Beside him sat Mistress Anne, her face hidden, the child wailing in her lap. A glance round assured me that there was no other staircase, and that on the side toward the country, the wall was pierced with no window bigger than a loophole or an arrow-slit; with no opening which even a boy could enter. For the present, therefore, unless the top of the tower should be escaladed from the adjacent houses — and I could do nothing to provide against that — we had nothing to fear except from the staircase and the window I have mentioned. Every moment, however, a missile or a shot crashed through the latter, adding the shiver of falling glass to the general din. No wonder the child wailed and the girl sank over it in abject terror. Those savage yells might well make a woman blench. They carried more fear and dread to my heart than did the real danger of our position, desperate as it was.

  And yet it was so desperate that, for a moment, I leant against the wall dazed and hopeless, listening to the infernal tumult without and within. Had Bertie been by my side to share the responsibility and join in the risk, I could have borne it better. I might have felt then some of the joy of battle, and the stern pleasure of the one matched against the many. But I was alone. How was I to save these women and that poor child from the yelling crew outside? How indeed? I did not know the enemy’s language; I could not communicate with him, could not explain, could not even cry for quarter for the women.

  A stone which glanced from one of the mullions and grazed my shoulder roused me from this fit of cowardice, which, I trust and believe, had lasted for a few seconds only. At the same moment an unusual volley of missiles tore through the window as if discharged at a given signal. We were under cover, and they did us no harm, rolling for the most part noisily about the floor. But when the storm ceased and a calm as sudden followed, I heard a dull, regular sound close to the window — a thud! thud! thud! — and on the instant divined the plan and the danger. My courage came back and with it my wits. I remembered an old tale I had heard, and, dropping my sword where I stood, I flew to the hearth, and unhooked the great pot. It was heavy; half full of something — broth, most likely; but I recked nothing of that, I bore it swiftly to the window, and just as the foremost man on the ladder had driven in the lead work before him with his ax, flung the whole of the contents — they were not scalding, but they were very hot — in his face. The fellow shrieked loudly, and, blinded and taken by surprise, lost his hold and fell against his supporter, and both tumbled down again more quickly than they had come up.

  Sternly triumphant, I poised the great pot itself in my hands, thinking to fling it down upon the sea of savage upturned faces, of which I had a brief view, as the torches flared now on one, now on another. But prudence prevailed. If no more blood were shed it might still be possible to get some terms. I laid the pot down by the side of the window as a weapon to be used only in the last resort.

  Meanwhile the Duchess, posted in the dark, had heard the noise of the window being driven in, and cried out pitifully to know what it was. “Stand firm!” I shouted loudly. “Stand firm. We are safe as yet.”

  Even the uproar without seemed to abate a little as the first fury of the mob died down. Probably their leaders were concerting fresh action. I went and knelt beside Master Bertie and made a rough examination of his wound. He had received a nasty blow on the back of the head, from which the blood was still oozing, and he was insensible. His face looked very long and thin and deathlike. But, so far as I could ascertain, the bones were uninjured, and he was now breathing more quietly. “I think he will recover,” I said, easing his clothes.

  Anne was crouching on the other side of him. As she did not answer I looked up at her. Her lips were moving, but the only word I caught was “Clarence!” I did not wonder she was distraught; I had work enough to keep my own wits. But I wanted her help, and I repeated loudly, “Anne! Anne!” trying to rouse her.

  She looked past me shuddering. “Heaven forgive you!” she muttered. “You have brought me to this! And now I must die! I must die here. In the net they have set for others is their own foot taken!”

  She was quite beside herself with terror. I saw that she was not addressing me; and I had not time to make sense of her wanderings. I left her and went out to speak to the Duchess. Poor woman! even her brave spirit was giving way. I felt her cold hands tremble as I took the halbert from her. “Go into the room a while,” I said softly. “He is not seriously hurt, I am sure. I will guard this. If any one appears at the window, scream.”

  She went gladly, and I took her place, having now to do double duty. I had been there a few minutes only, listening, with my soul in my ears, to detect the first signs of attack, either below me or in the room behind, when I distinguished a strange rustling sound on the staircase. It appeared to come from a point a good deal below me, and probably, whoever made it was just within the doorway. I peered into the gloom, but could see no one as yet. “Stand!” I cried in a tone of warning. “Who is that?”

  The sound ceased abruptly, but it left me uneasy. Could they be going to blow us up with gunpowder? No! I did not think so. They would not care to ruin the gateway for the sake of capturing so small a party. And the tower was strong. It would not be easy to blow it up.

  Yet in a short time the noise began again; and my fears returned with it. “Stand!” I cried savagely, “or take care of yourself.”

  The answer was a flash of bright light — which for a second showed the rough stone walls winding away at my feet — a stunning report, and the pattering down of half a dozen slugs from the roof. I laughed, my first start over. “You will have to come a little higher up!” I cried tauntingly, as I smelt the fumes. My eyes had become so accustomed to the darkness that I felt sure I should detect an assailant, however warily he might make his approach. And my halbert was seven feet long, so that I could reach as far as I could see. I had had time, too, to grow cool.

  After this there was comparative quiet for another space. Every now and then a stone or, more rarely, the ball of an arquebuse would come whizzing into the room above. But I did not fear this. It was easy to keep under cover. And their shouting no longer startled me. I began to see a glimpse of hope. It was plain that the townsfolk were puzzled how to come at us without suffering great loss. They were unaware of our numbers, and, as it proved, believed that we had three uninjured men at least. The staircase was impracticable as a point of assault, and the window, being only three feet in height and twenty from the ground, was not much better, if defended, as they expected it would be, by a couple of desperate swordsmen.

  I was not much astonished, therefore, when the rustling sound, beginning again at the foot of the staircase, came this time to no more formidable issue than a hail in Spanish. “Will you surrender?” the envoy cried.

  “No!” I said roundly.

  “Who are you?” was the next question.

  “We are English!” I answered.

  He went then; and there for the time the negotiations ended. But, seeing the dawn of hope, I was the more afraid of any trap or surprise, and I cried to the Duchess to be on her guard. For this reason, too, the suspense of the next few minutes was almost more trying than anything which had gone before. But the minutes came at last to an end. A voice below cried loudly in English, “Holloa! are you friends?”

  “Yes, yes,” I replied joyfully, before the words had well ceased to rebound from the walls. For the voice and accent were Master Lindstrom’s. A cry of relief from the room behind me showed that there, too, the speaker was recognized. Th
e Duchess came running to the door, but I begged her to go back and keep a good lookout. And she obeyed.

  “How come you here? How has it happened?” Master Lindstrom asked, his voice, though he still remained below, betraying his perplexity and unhappiness. “Can I not do something? This is terrible, indeed.”

  “You can come up, if you like,” I answered, after a moment’s thought. “But you must come alone. And I cannot let even you, friend as you are, see our defenses.”

  As he came up I stepped back and drew the door of the room toward me, so that, though a little light reached the head of the stairs, he could not, standing there, see into the room or discern our real weakness. I did not distrust him — Heaven forbid! but he might have to tell all he saw to his friends below, and I thought it well, for his sake as well as our own, that he should be able to do this freely, and without hurting us. As he joined me I held up a finger for silence and listened keenly. But all was quiet below. No one had followed him. Then I turned and warmly grasped his hands, and we peered into one another’s faces. I saw he was deeply moved; that he was thinking of Dymphna, and how I had saved her. He held my hands as though he would never loose them.

  “Well!” I said, as cheerfully as I could, “have you brought us an offer of terms? But let me tell you first,” I continued, “how it happened.” And I briefly explained that we had mistaken the captain of the guard and his two followers for Clarence and the two Spaniards. “Is he dead?” I continued.

  “No, he is still alive,” Master Lindstrom answered gravely. “But the townsfolk are furious, and the seizure of the tower has still further exasperated them. Why did you do it?”

  “Because we should have been torn to pieces if we had not done it,” I answered dryly. “You think we are in a strait place?”

  “Do you not think so yourself?” he said, somewhat astonished.

  I laughed. “That is as may be,” I answered with an affectation of recklessness. “The staircase is narrow and the window low. We shall sell our lives dearly, my friend. Yet, for the sake of the women who are with us, we are willing to surrender if the citizens offer us terms. After all, it was an accident. Cannot you impress this on them?” I added eagerly.

  He shook his head. “They will not hear reason,” he said.

  “Then,” I replied, “impress the other thing upon them. Tell them that our swords are sharp and we are desperate.”

  “I will see what I can do,” he answered slowly. “The Duke of Cleves is expected here to-morrow, and the townsfolk feel they would be disgraced forever if he should find their gate held by a party of marauders, as they consider you.”

  “The Duke of Cleves?” I repeated. “Perhaps he may be better affected toward us.”

  “They will overpower you before he comes,” Master Lindstrom answered despondently. “I would put no trust in him if I were you. But I will go to them, and, believe me, I will do all that man can do.”

  “Of that I am sure,” I said warmly. And then, cautioning me to remain strictly on the defensive, he left me.

  Before his footsteps had ceased to echo on the stairs the door beside me opened, and Mistress Anne appeared at it. I saw at once that his familiar voice had roused her from the stupor of fear in which I had last seen her. Her eyes were bright, her whole frame was thrilling with excitement, hope, suspense. I began to understand her; to discern beneath the disguise thrown over it in ordinary times by a strong will, the nervous nature which was always confident or despairing, which felt everything so keenly — everything, that is, which touched itself. “Well?” she cried, “well?”

  “Patience! patience!” I replied rather sharply. I could not help comparing her conduct with that of the Duchess, and blaming her, not for her timidity, but for the selfishness which she had betrayed in her fear. I could fancy Petronilla trembling and a coward, but not despairing nor utterly cast down, nor useless when others needed her, nor wrapped in her own terrors to the very exclusion of reason. “Patience!” I said; “he is coming back. He and his friends will do all they can for us. We must wait a while and hope, and keep a good lookout.”

  She had her hand on the door, and by an abrupt movement, she slipped out to me and closed it behind her. This made the staircase so dark that I could no longer distinguish her face, but I judged from her tone that her fears were regaining possession of her. “Clarence,” she muttered, her voice low and trembling. “Have you thought of him? Could not he help us? He may have followed us here, and may be here now. Now! And perhaps he does not know in what danger we are.”

  “Clarence!” I said, astonished and almost angry. “Clarence help us? Go back, girl, go back. You are mad. He would be more likely to complete our ruin. Go in and nurse the baby!” I added bitterly.

  What could she mean, I asked myself, when she had gone in. Was there anything in her suggestion? Would Clarence follow us hither? If so, and if he should come in time, would he have power to help us, using such mysterious influence, Spanish or English, as he seemed to possess? And if he could help us, would it be better to fall into his hands than into those of the exasperated Santonese? I thought the Duchess would say “No!”

  So it mattered not what I answered myself. I hoped, now Master Lindstrom had appeared, that the women would be allowed to go free; and it seemed to me that to surrender to Clarence would be to hand over the Duchess to her enemy simply that the rest of us might escape.

  Master Lindstrom returned while I was still considering this, and, observing the same precautions as before, I bade him join me. “Well?” I said, not so impetuously, I hope, as Mistress Anne, yet I dare say with a good deal of eagerness. “Well, what do they say?” For he was slow to speak.

  “I have bad news,” he answered gently.

  “Ah!” I ejaculated, a lump which was due as much to rage as to any other emotion rising in my throat. “So they will give us no terms? Then so be it! Let them come and take us.”

  “Nay,” he hastened to answer. “It is not so bad as that, lad. They are fathers and husbands themselves, and not lanzknechts. They will suffer the women to go free, and will even let me take charge of them if necessary.”

  “They will!” I exclaimed, overjoyed. I wondered why on earth he had hesitated to tell me this. “Why, that is the main point, friend.”

  “Yes,” he said gravely, “perhaps so. More, the men may go too, if the tower be surrendered within an hour. With one exception, that is. The man who struck the blow must be given up.”

  “The man who struck the blow!” I repeated slowly. “Do you mean — you mean the man who cut the patrol down?”

  “Yes,” he said. He was peering very closely at me, as though he would learn from my face who it was. And I stood thinking. This was as much as we could expect. I divined, and most truly, that but for the honest Dutchman’s influence, promises, perhaps bribes, such terms would never have been offered to us by the men who hours before had driven us to hold as if we had been vermin. Yet give up Master Bertie? “What,” I said, “will be done to him? The man who must be given up, I mean?” Master Lindstrom shook his head. “It was an accident,” I urged, my eyes on his.

  He grasped my hand firmly, and, turning away his face, seemed for a while unable to speak. At last he whispered, “He must suffer for the others, lad. I fear so. It is a hard fate, a cruel fate. But I can do no more. They will not hear me on this. It is true he will be first tried by the magistrate, but there is no hope. They are very hard.”

  My heart sank. I stood irresolute, pondering on what we ought to do, pondering on what I should say to the wife who so loved the man who must die. What could I say? Yet, somehow I must break the news. I asked Master Lindstrom to wait where he was while I consulted the others, adding, “You will answer for it that there will be no attack while you are here, I suppose?”

  “I will,” he said. I knew I could trust him, and I went in to the Duchess, closing the door behind me. A change had come over the room since I had left it. The moon had risen and was flinging its cold wh
ite light through the twisted and shattered framework of the window, to fall in three bright panels on the floor. The torches in the street had for the most part burned out, or been extinguished. In place of the red glare, the shouts and the crash of glass, the atmosphere of battle and strife I had left, I found this silvery light and a stillness made more apparent by the distant hum of many voices.

  Mistress Anne was standing just within the threshold, her face showing pale against the gloom, her hands clasped. The Duchess was kneeling by her husband, but she looked up as I entered.

  “They will let us all go,” I said bluntly; it was best to tell the tale at once— “except the one who hurt the patrol, that is.”

  It was strange how differently the two women received the news; while Mistress Anne flung her hands to her face with a sobbing cry of thankfulness, and leaned against the wall crying and shaking, my lady stood up straight and still, breathing hard but saying nothing. I saw that she did not need to ask what would be done to the one who was excepted. She knew. “No,” she murmured at last, her hands pressed to her bosom, “we cannot do it! Oh, no, no!”

  “I fear we must,” I said gently — calmly, too, I think. Yet in saying it I was not quite myself. An odd sensation was growing upon me in the stillness of the room. I began on a sudden, I did not know why, to thrill with excitement, to tremble with nervousness, such as would rather have become one of the women than a man. My head grew hot, my heart began to beat quickly. I caught myself looking out, listening, waiting for something to happen, something to be said. It was something more terrible, as it seemed to me, than the din and crash of the worst moments of the assault. What was it? What was it that was threatening my being? An instant and I knew.

  “Oh, no, never!” cried the Duchess again, her voice quivering, her face full of keenest pain. “We will not give you up. We will stand or fall together, friend.”