The Tavern Knight Page 5

  CHAPTER IV. AT THE SIGN OF THE MITRE

  For a week after the coming of the King to Worcester, Crispin'srelations with Kenneth steadily improved. By an evil chance, however,there befell on the eve of the battle that which renewed with heightenedintensity the enmity which the lad had fostered for him, but whichlately he had almost overcome.

  The scene of this happening--leastways of that which led to it--was TheMitre Inn, in the High Street of Worcester.

  In the common-room one day sat as merry a company of carousers as evergladdened the soul of an old tantivy boy. Youthful ensigns ofLesley's Scottish horse--caring never a fig for the Solemn League andCovenant--rubbed shoulders with beribboned Cavaliers of Lord Talbot'scompany; gay young lairds of Pitscottie's Highlanders, unmindful of theKirk's harsh commandments of sobriety, sat cheek by jowl with rakehellyofficers of Dalzell's Brigade, and pledged the King in many a stoup ofcanary and many a can of stout March ale.

  On every hand spirits ran high and laughter filled the chamber, themirth of some having its source in a neighbour's quip, that of othershaving no source at all save in the wine they had taken.

  At one table sat a gentleman of the name of Faversham, who had ridden onthe previous night in that ill-fated camisado that should haveresulted in the capture of Cromwell at Spetchley, but which, owing to abetrayal--when was a Stuart not betrayed and sold?--miscarried. He wasrelating to the group about him the details of that disaster.

  "Oddslife, gentlemen," he was exclaiming, "I tell you that, but for thatroaring dog, Sir Crispin Galliard, the whole of Middleton's regiment hadbeen cut to pieces. There we stood on Red Hill, trapped as ever fishin a net, with the whole of Lilburne's men rising out of the ground toenclose and destroy us. A living wall of steel it was, and on every handthe call to surrender. There was dismay in my heart, as I'll swear therewas dismay in the heart of every man of us, and I make little doubt,gentlemen, that with but scant pressing we had thrown down our arms, sodisheartened were we by that ambush. Then of a sudden there arose abovethe clatter of steel and Puritan cries, a loud, clear, defiant shout of'Hey for Cavaliers!'"

  "I turned, and there in his stirrups stood that madman Galliard, wavinghis sword and holding his company together with the power of his will,his courage, and his voice. The sight of him was like wine to our blood.'Into them, gentlemen; follow me!' he roared. And then, with a hurricaneof oaths, he hurled his company against the pike-men. The blow wasirresistible, and above the din of it came that voice of his again: 'Up,Cavaliers! Slash the cuckolds to ribbons, gentlemen!' The cropears gaveway, and like a river that has burst its dam, we poured through theopening in their ranks and headed back for Worcester."

  There was a roar of voices as Faversham ended, and around that table"The Tavern Knight" was for some minutes the only toast.

  Meanwhile half a dozen merry-makers at a table hard by, having drunkthemselves out of all sense of fitness, were occupied in baiting apale-faced lad, sombrely attired, who seemed sadly out of place in thatwild company--indeed, he had been better advised to have avoided it.

  The matter had been set afoot by a pleasantry of Ensign Tyler's, ofMassey's dragoons, with a playful allusion to a letter in a femininehand which Kenneth had let fall, and which Tyler had restored to him.Quip had followed quip until in their jests they transcended all bounds.Livid with passion and unable to endure more, Kenneth had sprung up.

  "Damnation!" he blazed, bringing his clenched hand down upon the table."One more of your foul jests and he that utters it shall answer to me!"

  The suddenness of his action and the fierceness of his tone andgesture--a fierceness so grotesquely ill-attuned to his slender frameand clerkly attire left the company for a moment speechless withamazement. Then a mighty burst of laughter greeted him, above whichsounded the shrill voice of Tyler, who held his sides, and down whosecrimson cheeks two tears of mirth were trickling.

  "Oh, fie, fie, good Master Stewart!" he gasped. "What think you wouldthe reverend elders say to this bellicose attitude and this profanetongue of yours?"

  "And what think you would the King say to this drunken poltroonery ofyours?" was the hot unguarded answer. "Poltroonery, I say," he repeated,embracing the whole company in his glance.

  The laughter died down as Kenneth's insult penetrated their befuddledminds. An instant's lull there was, like the lull in nature thatprecedes a clap of thunder. Then, as with one accord, a dozen of thembore down upon him.

  It was a vile thing they did, perhaps; but then they had drunk deep, andKenneth Stewart counted no friend amongst them. In an instant they hadhim, kicking and biting, on the floor; his doublet was torn rudely open,and from his breast Tyler plucked the letter whose existence had led tothis shameless scene.

  But ere he could so much as unfold it, a voice rang harsh andimperative:

  "Hold!"

  Pausing, they turned to confront a tall, gaunt man in a leather jerkinand a broad hat decked by goose-quill, who came slowly forward.

  "The Tavern Knight," cried one, and the shout of "A rouse for the heroof Red Hill!" was taken up on every hand. For despite his sour visageand ungracious ways there was not a roysterer in the Royal army to whomhe was not dear.

  But as he now advanced, the coldness of his bearing and the forbiddingset of his face froze them into silence.

  "Give me that letter," he demanded sternly of Tyler.

  Taken aback, Tyler hesitated for a second, whilst Crispin waited withhand outstretched. Vainly did he look round for sign or word of help orcounsel. None was afforded him by his fellow-revellers, who one and allhung back in silence.

  Seeing himself thus unsupported, and far from wishing to try conclusionswith Galliard, Tyler with an ill grace surrendered the paper; and, witha pleasant bow and a word of thanks, delivered with never so slighta saturnine smile, Crispin turned on his heel and left the tavern asabruptly as he had entered it.

  The din it was that had attracted him as he passed by on his way to theEpiscopal Palace where a part of his company was on guard duty. Thitherhe now pursued his way, bearing with him the letter which so opportunelyhe had become possessed of, and which he hoped might throw further lightupon Kenneth's relations with the Ashburns.

  But as he reached the palace there was a quick step behind him, and ahand fell upon his arm. He turned.

  "Ah, 'tis you, Kenneth," he muttered, and would have passed on, but theboy's hand took him by the sleeve.

  "Sir Crispin," said he, "I came to thank you."

  "I have done nothing to deserve your thanks. Give you good evening." Andhe made shift to mount the steps when again Kenneth detained him.

  "You are forgetting the letter, Sir Crispin," he ventured, and he heldout his hand to receive it.

  Galliard saw the gesture, and for a moment it crossed his mind inself-reproach that the part he chose to play was that of a bully. Asecond he hesitated. Should he surrender the letter unread, and fight onwithout the aid of the information it might bring him? Then the thoughtof Ashburn and of his own deep wrongs that cried out for vengeance,overcame and stifled the generous impulse. His manner grew yet morefrozen as he made answer:

  "There has been too much ado about this letter to warrant my so lightlyparting with it. First I will satisfy myself that I have been nounconscious abettor of treason. You shall have your letter tomorrow,Master Stewart."

  "Treason!" echoed Kenneth. And before that cold rebuff of Crispin's hismood changed from conciliatory to resentful--resentful towards the fatesthat made him this man's debtor.

  "I assure you, on my honour," said he, mastering his feelings, "thatthis is but a letter from the lady I hope to make my wife. Assuredly,sir, you will not now insist upon reading it."

  "Assuredly I shall."

  "But, sir--"

  "Master Stewart, I am resolved, and were you to talk from now tilldoomsday, you would not turn me from my purpose. So good night to you."

  "Sir Crispin," cried the boy, his voice quavering with passion, "while Ilive you shall not read that letter!"
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  "Hoity-toity, sir! What words! What heroics! And yet you would have mebelieve this paper innocent?"

  "As innocent as the hand that penned it, and if I so oppose your readingit, it is because thus much I owe her. Believe me, sir," he added, hisaccents returning to a beseeching key, "when again I swear that it is nomore than such a letter any maid may write her lover. I thought that youhad understood all this when you rescued me from those bullies atThe Mitre. I thought that what you did was a noble and generous deed.Instead--" The lad paused.

  "Continue, sir," Galliard requested coldly. "Instead?"

  "There can be no instead, Sir Crispin. You will not mar so good anaction now. You will give me my letter, will you not?"

  Callous though he was, Crispin winced. The breeding of earlier days--sosadly warped, alas!--cried out within him against the lie that hewas acting by pretending to suspect treason in that woman's pothooks.Instincts of gentility and generosity long dead took life again,resuscitated by that call of conscience. He was conquered.

  "There, take your letter, boy, and plague me no more," he growled, as heheld it out to Kenneth. And without waiting for reply or acknowledgment,he turned on his heel, and entered the palace. But he had yieldedoverlate to leave a good impression and, as Kenneth turned away, it waswith a curse upon Galliard, for whom his detestation seemed to increaseat every step.