CHAPTER VIII.
That night I had but little sleep.
About an hour after midnight there was a great stir in the house and thesound of opening doors and hurrying footsteps. The unwonted noisesterrified me. I leaned against the door, with a heart beating thickly,and I listened. What evil tidings did those sounds portend? There was aloud outcry in a woman's voice,--the voice of Dona Orosia.
I felt that I must know what havoc Fate had wrought in the last hours. Ilooked at Barbara--she slumbered peacefully on her hard pallet; themoonlight, streaming through the barred window, showed me her witheredface relaxed in almost childlike peacefulness. I would not rouseher,--'twas a blessed thing to sleep and forget; but _I_ dared notsleep, for I knew not what would be the horror of my waking. With mycheek pressed close against the door I waited a moment longer. Perhapsonly those planks intervened 'twixt me and my life's tragedy!
I laid my hand upon the latch. I feared to know the truth,--and yet, ifI did not hear it, I must die of dread. Slowly I turned the key andraised the bars: the door swung open.
I stepped out upon the balcony that overhung the court and I lookedover. There was no one in sight; the white moonlight lay overeverything, and a strong perfume floated up from the flowers in thegarden beyond.
I crept down the stair and stood still in the centre of the empty court.Voices sounded near me, but I knew not whence they came. Tremblingstill, I moved toward the passage that led to the outer door, and I sawthat it was bright as day. The door stood ajar. Those who had last goneout had been strangely forgetful--or greatly agitated.
Scarce knowing what I did, I crossed the threshold and hurried down thestreet in the direction of the fort.
A group of three men stood upon the corner. At the sight of them Ipaused and hid in the shadow of the wall; but, one of them turning hisface toward me, I recognized Captain Baulk, and, going quickly forward,I laid my hand upon his arm.
"How is he? Where have they taken him?" I whispered.
"What! is't Mistress Tudor? Have they turned you adrift, then? Lor','tis a frail craft to be out o' harbour such foul weather!"
"How is he?" I repeated, tightening my grasp upon his sleeve.
"Dead as a pickled herring, poor lad!"
My head struck heavily against the wall as I fell, but I made no outcry.
"Sink me! but the poor lassie thought I meant Mr. Rivers!" I heard theold sailor exclaim as he dropped on his knees beside me,--and the wordsstayed my failing senses.
"Whom did you mean?" I gasped.
"Young Poole has been done to death, Mistress Margaret. As honest a ladas ever lived, too,--more's the pity!"
I struggled to raise myself, crying: "What do you tell me? Have theykilled the lad in pure spite against his master? And where is Mr.Rivers?"
They made me no answer.
"He is dead, then! I knew it, my heart told me so!"
"Eh! poor lass! 'Tis not so bad as that--yet bad enough. They've hungchains enough upon him to anchor a man-o'-war, and moored him fast inthe dungeon of the fort. D--n 'em for a crew o' dastard furriners!--an'he own cousin to an English earl!"
"Can you not tell me a straight tale?" I cried. "What has he done to beso ill served? And whose the enmity behind it all,--Melinza's, or theGovernor's?"
"Lor'!" exclaimed one of the sailors, "the young Don is past revenge,mistress. If he lives out the night 'tis more than I look to see."
"Here, now, let me tell the tale, lad," the old captain interposed."'Twas a duel began it, Mistress Tudor. The young bloods were so keenafter fighting they could not wait for sunrise, but must needs have itout by moonlight on the beach. 'Twas over yonder, in the lee of thecastle walls."
"Mr. Rivers and Don Pedro?"
"Aye, mistress. The Governor was not by,--'tis likely he knew naught ofit."
"Not so!" I cried, "he had his share in the quarrel, and they left thehouse in company."
"Mayhap," said Captain Baulk, "I'd not gainsay it--for I trust no one o'them; but he chose to go with his weather eye shut rather than takeprecaution 'gainst the squall. So they had it out all by theirselves,--and none of us a whit the wiser, saving young Poole, who hadguessed somewhat was amiss and followed his master."
"What then? Speak quickly! Was Mr. Rivers wounded?"
"Not he! That's to say, not by any thrust of the Don's. Lor', but itmust ha' been a pretty fight! Pity no man saw it that lives to tell!"
"In the name of mercy, sir, speak plainly!"
"Aye, my young mistress, but give me time an' I will. Mr. Rivers erelong did get in such a thrust that the Don went down before it assuddenly as a ship with all her hull stove in. He lay stranded, with theblood flowing away in a dark stream over the white sands. Our younggentleman, gallant heart, did throw away his sword and fall down besidethe Spaniard and strive to staunch his wounds, crying aloud most lustilyfor aid. Who should hear him but young Poole and that yellow devil of aTomas! They came from opposite quarters, and Poole was in the shadow, sothe other saw him not. The mulatto ran up alongside, and, seeing 'twasthe Don who had fallen, he whipped out a knife from his belt and struckat our young master as he knelt there on the ground. Nay, now, do nottake on so! Did I not say he was but little hurt? Had the blow struckhim fairly in the back, as it was meant to do, doubtless it would haveput an end to him; but Poole was to the rescue, poor lad! He threwhimself on the mulatto in the nick o' time. The knife had barely grazedMr. Rivers on the shoulder; but young Tomas never let go his hold of it.He and the faithful lad rolled together on the ground--and Poole neverrose again. His body was stabbed through in a dozen places. Mr. Rivershad no time to interfere; ere he could rise from his knees, or even putout a hand to take his sword, a dozen soldiers had laid hands on him.That devil of a Tomas finished his evil work, and then picked himself upand walked away; never a one laid a finger on him or cried shame on thefoul deed!"
The old sailor paused, and each man of the group breathed a cursethrough his clinched teeth.
"They have taken Mr. Rivers to the dungeon of the fort?" I whispered.
"Aye, so they tell us. None of us were there, which is perhaps for thegood of our necks,--yet I would we had had a chance to strike a blow indefence of the poor lad."
"And the Spaniard--Don Pedro?"
"They carried him into the Governor's own house a while since. I thinkhis wound is mortal."
"Then he has brought his death upon himself, for he forced Mr. Riversinto the quarrel," I declared hastily.
"'Twas bound to come," admitted Captain Baulk, "there has been badblood between them from the very first. But what are we to do with you,mistress? Did they put you out in anger?"
"Nay," I exclaimed, "I heard a great disturbance and hastened out toseek the cause. The outer door was left unbarred."
"Why then, mistress, we would best make for it again before 'tis shut!This is no hour and no place for a young maid to be out alone." Takingme by the hand he led me back the way I had come; but we were too late.The entrance was closed and barred against us.
"Now, what's to do?" exclaimed the old sailor in dismay.
I had been too crushed and dazed by the ill news to think before of myimprudence; but now I realized how very unwisely I had acted. I turnedhastily to the old captain.
"Go and leave me, my good friend," I said. "Already there has beenenough trouble of my making. Do not let me have to answer for more. Iwill wait here and call for some one to open for me. 'Tis better for meto say what is the truth--that I wandered out in my anxiety. Go, I prayyou, and be discrete in your conduct, that they may have no just causeto imprison you also."
He saw the wisdom of it and went away out of sight, while I beat withall my might upon the door.
In a moment steps sounded within, the bars fell, and the door was drawnback. It was the Governor himself who stood there. He looked at me inastonishment as he drew aside for me to pass.
I attempted no explanation; for I knew he could not understand me.Doubtless he would tell his lady and she would hold
me to account.Slowly I mounted to the balcony above and pushed open the door of mychamber.
The dame still slept peacefully. I went softly to the window and kneltdown. My heart was sick for the faithful lad who had died in defendingMr. Rivers. Poor boy! He had no mother--I wonder if there was a littlelass anywhere whom he loved? But no, he was young for that. I think hislove was all his master's. And to die for those whom we love best is notso sad a fate as to live for their undoing!
The hot tears ran down my face. I leaned my cheek against the bars andset free my thoughts, which flew, as swift as homing pigeons, to my dearlove in his dungeon cell.
Oh! I would that all the prayers I pray, and all the tender thoughts Ithink of him, had wings in very truth; and that after they had flownheavenward they might bear thence some balm, some essence of divinestpity, to cheer him in his loneliness! If it were so, then there would bein never-ending flight, up from the barred window where I kneel, anddownward to the narrow slit in his prison wall, two shining lines offluttering white wings coming and going all these long nights through!
Margaret Tudor: A Romance of Old St. Augustine Page 8