The Tavern Knight Read online

  Produced by Polly Stratton

  THE TAVERN KNIGHT

  By Rafael Sabatini

  CONTENTS

  I. ON THE MARCH

  II. ARCADES AMBO

  III. THE LETTER

  IV. AT THE SIGN OF THE MITRE

  V. AFTER WORCESTER FIELD

  VI. COMPANIONS IN MISFORTUNE

  VII. THE TAVERN KNIGHT'S STORY

  VIII. THE TWISTED BAR

  IX. THE BARGAIN

  X. THE ESCAPE

  XI. THE ASHBURNS

  XII. THE HOUSE THAT WAS ROLAND MARLEIGH'S

  XIII. THE METAMORPHOSIS OF KENNETH

  XIV. THE HEART OF CYNTHIA ASHBURN

  XV. JOSEPH'S RETURN

  XVI. THE RECKONING

  XVII. JOSEPH DRIVES A BARGAIN

  XVIII. COUNTER-PLOT

  XIX. THE INTERRUPTED JOURNEY

  XX. THE CONVERTED HOGAN

  XXI. THE MESSAGE KENNETH BORE

  XXII. SIR CRISPIN'S UNDERTAKING

  XXIII. GREGORY'S ATTRITION

  XXIV. THE WOOING OF CYNTHIA

  XXV. CYNTHIA'S FLIGHT

  XXVI. TO FRANCE

  XXVII. THE AUBERGINE DU SOLEIL

  THE TAVERN KNIGHT

  CHAPTER I. ON THE MARCH

  He whom they called the Tavern Knight laughed an evil laugh--such alaugh as might fall from the lips of Satan in a sardonic moment.

  He sat within the halo of yellow light shed by two tallow candles, whosesconces were two empty bottles, and contemptuously he eyed the youthin black, standing with white face and quivering lip in a corner ofthe mean chamber. Then he laughed again, and in a hoarse voice, sorelysuggestive of the bottle, he broke into song. He lay back in his chair,his long, spare legs outstretched, his spurs jingling to the lilt of hisditty whose burden ran:

  On the lip so red of the wench that's sped His passionate kiss burns, still-O! For 'tis April time, and of love and wine Youth's way is to take its fill-O! Down, down, derry-do!

  So his cup he drains and he shakes his reins, And rides his rake-helly way-O! She was sweet to woo and most comely, too, But that was all yesterday-O! Down, down, derry-do!

  The lad started forward with something akin to a shiver.

  "Have done," he cried, in a voice of loathing, "or, if croak you must,choose a ditty less foul!"

  "Eh?" The ruffler shook back the matted hair from his lean, harshface, and a pair of eyes that of a sudden seemed ablaze glared at hiscompanion; then the lids drooped until those eyes became two narrowslits--catlike and cunning--and again he laughed.

  "Gad's life, Master Stewart, you have a temerity that should saveyou from grey hairs! What is't to you what ditty my fancy seizes on?'Swounds, man, for three weary months have I curbed my moods, and wornmy throat dry in praising the Lord; for three months have I been aliving monument of Covenanting zeal and godliness; and now that at lastI have shaken the dust of your beggarly Scotland from my heels, you--theveriest milksop that ever ran tottering from its mother's lap wouldchide me because, yon bottle being done, I sing to keep me from waxingsad in the contemplation of its emptiness!"

  There was scorn unutterable on the lad's face as he turned aside.

  "When I joined Middleton's horse and accepted service under you, I heldyou to be at least a gentleman," was his daring rejoinder.

  For an instant that dangerous light gleamed again from his companion'seye. Then, as before, the lids drooped, and, as before, he laughed.

  "Gentleman!" he mocked. "On my soul, that's good! And what may you knowof gentlemen, Sir Scot? Think you a gentleman is a Jack Presbyter, or adroning member of your kirk committee, strutting it like a crow inthe gutter? Gadswounds, boy, when I was your age, and George Villierslived--"

  "Oh, have done!" broke in the youth impetuously. "Suffer me to leaveyou, Sir Crispin, to your bottle, your croaking, and your memories."

  "Aye, go your ways, sir; you'd be sorry company for a dead man--thesorriest ever my evil star led me into. The door is yonder, and shouldyou chance to break your saintly neck on the stairs, it is like to bewell for both of us."

  And with that Sir Crispin Galliard lay back in his chair once more, andtook up the thread of his interrupted song

  But, heigh-o! she cried, at the Christmas-tide, That dead she would rather be-O! Pale and wan she crept out of sight, and wept

  'Tis a sorry--

  A loud knock that echoed ominously through the mean chamber, fell inthat instant upon the door. And with it came a panting cry of--

  "Open, Cris! Open, for the love of God!"

  Sir Crispin's ballad broke off short, whilst the lad paused in the actof quitting the room, and turned to look to him for direction.

  "Well, my master," quoth Galliard, "for what do you wait?"

  "To learn your wishes, sir," was the answer sullenly delivered.

  "My wishes! Rat me, there's one without whose wishes brook less waiting!Open, fool!"

  Thus rudely enjoined, the lad lifted the latch and set wide the door,which opened immediately upon the street. Into the apartment stumbled aroughly clad man of huge frame. He was breathing hard, and fear was writlarge upon his rugged face. An instant he paused to close the door afterhim, then turning to Galliard, who had risen and who stood eyeing him inastonishment--

  "Hide me somewhere, Cris," he panted--his accent proclaiming his Irishorigin. "My God, hide me, or I'm a dead man this night!"

  "'Slife, Hogan! What is toward? Has Cromwell overtaken us?"

  "Cromwell, quotha? Would to Heaven 'twere no worse! I've killed a man!"

  "If he's dead, why run?"

  The Irishman made an impatient gesture.

  "A party of Montgomery's foot is on my heels. They've raised the wholeof Penrith over the affair, and if I'm taken, soul of my body, 'twill bea short shrift they'll give me. The King will serve me as poor Wrycraftwas served two days ago at Kendal. Mother of Mercy!" he broke off,as his ear caught the clatter of feet and the murmur of voices fromwithout. "Have you a hole I can creep into?"

  "Up those stairs and into my room with you!" said Crispin shortly. "Iwill try to head them off. Come, man, stir yourself; they are here."

  Then, as with nimble alacrity Hogan obeyed him and slipped from theroom, he turned to the lad, who had been a silent spectator of whathad passed. From the pocket of his threadbare doublet he drew a pack ofgreasy playing cards.

  "To table," he said laconically.

  But the boy, comprehending what was required of him, drew back at sightof those cards as one might shrink from a thing unclean.

  "Never!" he began. "I'll not defile--"

  "To table, fool!" thundered Crispin, with a vehemence few men could havewithstood. "Is this a time for Presbyterian scruples? To table, and helpa me play this game, or, by the living God, I'll--" Without completinghis threat he leaned forward until Kenneth felt his hot, wine-ladenbreath upon his cheek. Cowed by his words, his gesture, and above all,his glance, the lad drew up a chair, mumbling in explanation--intendedas an excuse to himself for his weakness--that he submitted since aman's life was at stake.

  Opposite him Galliard resumed his seat with a mocking smile that madehim wince. Taking up the cards, he flung a portion of them to the boy,whilst those he retained he spread fanwise in his hand as if about toplay. Silently Kenneth copied his actions.

  Nearer and louder grew the sounds of the approach, lights flashed beforethe window, and the two men, feigning to play, sat on and waited.

  "Have a care, Master Stewart," growled Crispin sourl
y, then in a loudervoice--for his quick eye had caught a glimpse of a face that watchedthem from the window--"I play the King of Spades!" he cried, withmeaning look.

  A blow was struck upon the door, and with it came the command to "Openin the King's name!" Softly Sir Crispin rapped out an oath. Then herose, and with a last look of warning to Kenneth, he went to open.And as he had greeted Hogan he now greeted the crowd mainly ofsoldiers--that surged about the threshold.

  "Sirs, why this ado? Hath the Sultan Oliver descended upon us?"

  In one hand he still held his cards, the other he rested upon the edgeof the open door. It was a young ensign who stood forward to answer him.

  "One of Lord Middleton's officers hath done a man to death not half anhour agone; he is an Irishman Captain Hogan by name."

  "Hogan--Hogan?" repeated Crispin, after the manner of one who fumbles inhis memory. "Ah, yes--an Irishman with a grey head and a hot temper. Andhe is dead, you say?"

  "Nay, he has done the killing."

  "That I can better understand. 'Tis not the first time, I'll be sworn."

  "But it will be the last, Sir Crispin."

  "Like enough. The King is severe since we crossed the Border." Then ina brisker tone: "I thank you for bringing me this news," said he, "and Iregret that in my poor house there be naught I can offer you wherein todrink His Majesty's health ere you proceed upon your search. Give yougood night, sir." And by drawing back a pace he signified his wish toclose the door and be quit of them.

  "We thought," faltered the young officer, "that--that perchance youwould assist us by--"

  "Assist you!" roared Crispin, with a fine assumption of anger. "Assistyou take a man? Sink me, sir, I would have you know I am a soldier, nota tipstaff!"

  The ensign's cheeks grew crimson under the sting of that veiled insult.

  "There are some, Sir Crispin, that have yet another name for you."

  "Like enough--when I am not by," sneered Crispin. "The world is full offoul tongues in craven heads. But, sirs, the night air is chill and youare come inopportunely, for, as you'll perceive, I was at play. Haplyyou'll suffer me to close the door."

  "A moment, Sir Crispin. We must search this house. He is believed tohave come this way."

  Crispin yawned. "I will spare you the trouble. You may take it from methat he could not be here without my knowledge. I have been in this roomthese two hours past."

  "Twill not suffice," returned the officer doggedly. "We must satisfyourselves."

  "Satisfy yourselves?" echoed the other, in tones of deep amazement."What better satisfaction can I afford you than my word? 'Swounds, sirjackanapes," he added, in a roar that sent the lieutenant back a paceas though he had been struck, "am I to take it that your errand is atrumped-up business to affront me? First you invite me to turn tipstaff,then you add your cursed innuendoes of what people say of me, and nowyou end by doubting me! You must satisfy yourself!" he thundered, waxingfiercer at every word. "Linger another moment on that threshold, andd----n me, sir, I'll give you satisfaction of another flavour! Be off!"

  Before that hurricane of passion the ensign recoiled, despite himself.

  "I will appeal to General Montgomery," he threatened.

  "Appeal to the devil! Had you come hither with your errand in a seemlyfashion you had found my door thrown wide in welcome, and I had receivedyou courteously. As it is, sir, the cause for complaint is on my side,and complain I will. We shall see whether the King permits an oldsoldier who has followed the fortunes of his family these eighteen yearsto be flouted by a malapert bantam of yesterday's brood!"

  The subaltern paused in dismay. Some demur there was in the gatheredcrowd. Then the officer fell back a pace, and consulted an elderlytrooper at his elbow. The trooper was of opinion that the fugitive musthave gone farther. Moreover, he could not think, from what Sir Crispinhad said, that it would have been possible for Hogan to have entered thehouse. With this, and realizing that much trouble and possible loss oftime must result from Sir Crispin's obstinacy, did they attempt to forcea way into the house, and bethinking himself, also, maybe, how well thisrascally ruffler stood with Lord Middleton, the ensign determined towithdraw, and to seek elsewhere.

  And so he took his leave with a venomous glance, and a parting threatto bring the matter to the King's ears, upon which Galliard slammed thedoor before he had finished.

  There was a curious smile on Crispin's face as he walked slowly to thetable, and resumed his seat.

  "Master Stewart," he whispered, as he spread his cards anew, "the comedyis not yet played out. There is a face glued to the window at thismoment, and I make little doubt that for the next hour or so we shall bespied upon. That pretty fellow was born to be a thief-taker."

  The boy turned a glance of sour reproof upon his companion. He had notstirred from his chair while Crispin had been at the door.

  "You lied to them," he said at last.

  "Sh! Not so loud, sweet youth," was the answer that lost nothing ofmenace by being subdued. "Tomorrow, if you please, I will account toyou for offending your delicate soul by suggesting a falsehood in yourpresence. To-night we have a man's life to save, and that, I think, iswork enough. Come, Master Stewart, we are being watched. Let us resumeour game."

  His eye, fixed in cold command upon the boy, compelled obedience.And the lad, more out of awe of that glance than out of any desire tocontribute to the saving of Hogan, mutely consented to keep up thispretence. But in his soul he rebelled. He had been reared in anatmosphere of honourable and religious bigotry. Hogan was to him acoarse ruffler; an evil man of the sword; such a man as he abhorred andaccounted a disgrace to any army--particularly to an army launched uponEngland under the auspices of the Solemn League and Covenant.

  Hogan had been guilty of an act of brutality; he had killed a man; andKenneth deemed himself little better, since he assisted in harbouringinstead of discovering him, as he held to be his duty. But 'neath thesuasion of Galliard's inexorable eye he sat limp and docile, vowingto himself that on the morrow he would lay the matter before LordMiddleton, and thus not only endeavour to make amends for his presentguilty silence, but rid himself also of the companionship of thisruffianly Sir Crispin, to whom no doubt a hempen justice would be meted.

  Meanwhile, he sat on and left his companion's occasional salliesunanswered. In the street men stirred and lanthorns gleamed fitfully,whilst ever and anon a face surmounted by a morion would be pressedagainst the leaded panes of the window.

  Thus an hour wore itself out during which poor Hogan sat above, alonewith his anxiety and unsavoury thoughts.