*CHAPTER III*
*Master and Man*
A Midnight Summons--A Warm Reception--Righteous Indignation--AglionbyRetorts--The Berkeley Arms--A Village Sensation--The Constable'sStory--Aspersions--Unimpeachable References--Waylaid--SquaringAccounts--The Captain Rides Away
The clock of St. Mary's church had just chimed the first quarter aftermidnight, and the deep note of the lowest bell was dying away over thetree-tops, when the sound was intercepted by the distant clink andclatter of iron-shod hoofs on the hard road, approaching from thedirection of Salisbury. The horse's pace was slow, and there wassomething in the fall of the hoofs that betokened a jaded steed. It wasa clear calm night; the air carried every sound distinctly; and nothingbroke the stillness save the footfalls of the horse, an occasionalmurmur from the birds in the trees, and the whirr of wings as a solitaryowl, disturbed by the nocturnal rider, left its search for food andrustled back to its nook in the tower.
The horseman came presently to the church, wheeled round to the right,and urged his flagging beast along the road leading to the manor house.Arriving at the park, he flung himself from the saddle, hitched thebridle over his left arm, and turned the handle of the massive irongate. But there was no yielding to his push: the gate was locked. Theman shook and rattled the handle impatiently, to assure himself that hewas not mistaken, then turned aside with an inarticulate rumble ofanger, and went to the lodge, a low ivy-grown cottage abutting on theroad. He tapped on the small latticed window with the butt of hisriding-whip; there was no reply. The horse by his side hung its headand breathed heavily; it was jaded to the point of exhaustion. Again herapped on the glass, growling between his teeth; and when his summonsstill met with no response he dealt so smart a blow that one of thethick square panes fell in with a crash. A moment later a voice washeard from within.
"Away wi' 'ee! Who be you, a-breaken an honest man's rest at thisfearsome time o' night?"
A night-capped head appeared at the hole, just visible in the faintillumination of the clear summer sky.
"Open the gate, Dick," said the rider impatiently. "Ods my life, willyou keep me waiting here, will you?"
"Be it you, Cap'n?"
"Zounds, man, must I tell you my name? Ha' ye never seen me before!Stir your old stumps, or by the lord Harry----"
"Squire give orders t' gate were to be locked and kep' locked; not a manto come in, not a soul. They's my orders, ay sure, Cap'n."
"Orders! orders!" cried the other in a burst of passion. "Adslidikins,if you're not at the gate with the key inside of two minutes I'll put aslug through your jolt head, you mumper, you miching rogue you!"
And indeed Captain Aglionby displayed a monstrous blunderbuss, andpointed it full in the face of the scared lodge-keeper. For an instantthe man hesitated; then, muttering to himself, he disappeared from thewindow, and soon afterwards emerged from the side door within thepalings, his night-gown showing beneath a heavy driving coat. He cametowards the gate with the key--a bent old man, tottering and mumbling.
"I shall lose my place; Squire give orders, a' did, not a soul to comein; to drag a aged man from his nat'ral sleep an' lose him his place an'all; well, I was forced; no man can zay as I warn't forced; mumper as Ibe, I vallies my little bit o' life, and----"
"Hold your tongue, you old flap-eared dotard, and make haste, or I'llpink your soul. Don't you see the jade's dead-beat; 'tis time I stabledher."
The man turned the key and slowly opened the gate. With a grunt thecaptain led his horse through, and, without so much as a glance at thelodge-keeper, proceeded up the quarter-mile drive leading to the house.
"Old Nick's not abed," he said to himself as he cast his eye over thehouse front. A light shone from a window in the turret over the porch."The old nightbird! Lock me out! Oons!"
He threw the bridle over an iron post at the side of the entrance, andwalked round a projecting wing of the building till he came to a smalldoor in the wall. He turned the iron ring, pushed, rattled; the doorwas fast shut. Cursing under his breath, he was proceeding towards theservants' quarters when he heard the creak of a key turning, and,wheeling round, came to the postern just as it was opened by SquireBerkeley himself, his tall, lean, bent figure enwrapped from neck toheel in a black cassock-like garment, a skull-cap of black velvetcovering his head. He held a lighted candle; his piercing eyes flashedin the darkness.
"Hey, Squire!" cried the captain in a tone of forced good-humour, "I hadmuch ado to rouse old Dick. 'Tis late to be sure; but if you'll give methe key of the stables I'll settle Jenny for the night and get to bed."
He made as if to enter, but Mr. Berkeley spread himself across thenarrow doorway.
"Who are you, sirrah," he said, "to break into my park against myexpress orders?"
There was contempt in his cold incisive tones, and anger with difficultycurbed.
"Why now----" Aglionby began.
"Who are you, I say? And what am I, that my orders are defied, and myhouse made a common inn, a toping house for you and your toss-potruffians? Go--go, I say!"
The captain was for a moment staggered; the old man's manner left noroom for doubt that he was in earnest. But Aglionby was too old acampaigner to cry off so easily. In a tone half-conciliatory,half-aggrieved he said--
"Fair and softly, Squire! this is but scurvy treatment of a tired man.Look you, I've been in the saddle this livelong day; the mare'swell-nigh foundered; and for myself--gads so, I could eat an ox anddrink a hogshead. To-morrow, in a few hours, I'll bid ye good-bye--for atime, if ye want a change; but to-night--no, Squire, 'tis not hospitableof you, 'tis not indeed."
"You dally with me!" cried the squire, the hand that held the candleshaking with passion. "You set no foot within this door--now, nor everagain. Begone, while there is time."
"While there is time! Look ye, Master Berkeley, I will not brookinsults from you. Yesterday you must put an affront on me in thepresence of my lord Godolphin, shoving me out of the way as I were aleper, and at the very moment, stap me! when I might ha' paid court tohis lordship, and got the chance o' my life. Adsbud, I was not goodenough to approach my lord, to accost him, have speech with him----"
"An omission you have since repaired," interjected the old man with ameaning look. The captain started, and there was a perceptible intervalbefore he resumed, in a tone still more blusterous--
"Ods my life, what mean you now? You took care I should not meet mylord in your company; and, i' faith, he showed he wanted none of thatneither."
"Hold your peace and begone!" cried the squire in a fury. "You think Iknow nothing of your villainies? How many times have I harbouredyou--ay, saved you perchance from the gallows! How many times have youeat my food, rid my horses, browbeat my servants, roistered it in myhouse, till I could bear with you no longer, and then betaken yourselfto your evil practices abroad, consorted with villains, run your neckwell-nigh into the hangman's noose, and then come back with contriteface and vows of amendment, to fawn and bluster and bully again? Outupon you! Your rapscallion of a servant is even now laid by the heels,and to-morrow will have to answer to the charge of waylaying the LordTreasurer. He's a white-livered oaf, and his tongue will wag, andyou'll companion him before Fanshawe, and you'll swing on the samegibbet."
At the mention of his man's plight the captain's face had fallen; butwhen Mr. Berkeley's tirade was ended he broke into a laugh.
"Ha! ha! Squire, now I come to understand you. 'Tis your own skin youhave a care for! Ha! ha! I might have known it. I am to be haledbefore Sir Godfrey, am I? and to hold my tongue, am I? and to be mumabout certain little affairs in the life of Master NicolasBerkeley--that paragon of virtue, that pampered, patched old interloper,am I? By the lord Harry, if I stand in manacles before Sir Godfrey, youshall bear me company, you painted pasteboard of a saint!"
Berkeley's pale face blanched with fury. For a moment he was incapableof speech. Then he stepped forward a pace; the h
and holding the candleshook so, that the grease sputtered upon his gown. His voice came invehement passionate whispers:
"You threaten me! Do your worst--I defy you!--Back to your wallow,bully!--begone!"
He suddenly withdrew within the doorway, slammed the door, and boltedit.
"Whew!" whistled the captain, left standing outside. "'Tis the worstpassion ever I saw him in. Defies me! Well, Master Nicolas, would Icould afford to take you at your word! A plague on Simmons! I thoughthe was dead. He'll split, sure enough, and there's an end of RalphAglionby. Jenny, my dear, you're a sorry jade, but you'll have to bearmy carcase till we're out of harm's way. We have five or six hoursbefore the world's astir. Do your best, my girl, and we'll cheat 'emyet."
Captain Aglionby led his tired steed down the drive to the gate, rousedDick the lodge-keeper with scant ceremony, and in a few minutes wasriding slowly towards the village. As he came into the principalstreet, he was surprised to notice that the only inn was lit up, a mostunusual circumstance at that time of night. The door stood open, andthere were lights in several of the rooms on the ground floor. Afeeling of apprehension seized upon him; he could not but connect theselively signs with the events of the morning, and especially with thecapture of his man. Could the fellow have blabbed already? He was justmaking up his mind to spur the mare past the inn, over the bridge, on tothe London road, when two persons came to the door and caught sight ofhim. One was Mistress Joplady, the buxom hostess; the other WilliamNokes, the village constable. It was too late to evade them: indeed heheard the hostess exclaim, "Well, I never! 'tis the Cap'n hisself,sure." Resolving like a wise man to make the best of it, he rode up tothe door, dismounted, and, swaggering, with his usual air of assurancesaid:
"Egad, mistress, I'm glad to find you afoot. My mare's dead-beat, hascarried me nigh forty miles this day; send Tom ostler to stable her,like a good soul; and give me a bite and a bed. I didn't care aboutdisturbing the squire at this time o' night."
The captain was no favourite with good Mistress Joplady, but shereceived him now with something more than her usual urbanity.
"Come away in, Cap'n Aglionby," she said. "Sure your name was in ourvery mouths. Strange things be doing--ay, strange things in WintonSimmary; bean't it so, William Nokes? Take the cap'n into the parlour,William; a few souls be there, Cap'n, not fit company for the likes o'you, to be sure, but they'll tell 'ee summat as'll stir your blood, theywill so. Tom'll see to Jenny, so be easy."
Captain Aglionby followed the constable into the parlour, where a groupof the village worthies were assembled. They were neither smoking nordrinking, a sure sign that they had something momentous to talk about.A silence fell upon the company as the captain clanked into the room,and one or two of the more active-minded of them threw a quick glance ateach other, which the new-comer did not fail to note.
"A fine night, men," said the captain jovially.
"Ay, 'tis so."
"And a late hour to find the Berkeley Arms open."
"Ay, 'tis latish, sure enough."
"Any news from the army in Flanders? A post from London, eh?"
"Nay, not 'zackly that."
"Odzooks! speak up, men," cried the captain impatiently. "Why are theyall mumble-chopped to-night, mistress?" he asked, turning to thehostess, who had followed him with bread and cheese and beer.
"Ah, they be pondering strange things," returned Mrs. Joplady. "Tellthe cap'n all the long story, William Nokes."
The constable, fingering the hat in his hand, looked for sympathy intothe stolid faces of his fellows, cleared his throat, and began:
"Cap'n, your sarvant. Eight o'clock this mornin', or mebbe nine--'twixteight and nine, if the truth was told--comes Long Tom from the Grange,Sir Godfrey's man, as ye med know, Cap'n. Says he to me, 'Constable,'says he, 'Sir Godfrey commands 'ee as a justice o' the peace to bringyour staff and irons and other engines,' says he, 'up along to Grange,wi'out remorse or delay, and arrest a prisoner in the Queen's name.'You may think what a turn it gi' me, souls, so early in the mornin'.'Be he voilent?' says I. 'Can I arrest the villain all alone bymyself?' 'Ay sure,' says he; 'there's no knowin' what a tough job'twould be an he were sound and hearty, but he's dazed, so he be, wi' acrack in the nob, and won't give no trouble to no mortal constable, nota bit,' says he. 'A crack in the nob,' says he; didn't he, souls?"
A murmur of assent came from the group.
"So I ups and goos wi' Long Tom hotfoot to the Grange, and Tom he tellsme by the way the longs and shorts on't. Seems 'twas Sherry Minshull ascracked his nob, leastways he picked un up, he and young master pa'sonbetwixt 'em, an' hoisted him on a cart o' Farmer Leake's, an' so carriedun to Grange and laid un afore Sir Godfrey. 'Twas highway robbery,Cap'n, a-took in the very act, a-stoppen the carriage o' the high lardas come this way yesterday, or day afore, as 'ee med say, seein' 'tismornin' now by the rights on't. And Sir Godfrey commits un, he do,dazed as he were wi' the crack in the nob, and hands un over to the law,and says, 'Constable,' says he, 'keep the knave fast in the lock-up, an'hold un till I gets word from my Lard Godolphin in Lun'on.' They be hiswords, Cap'n."
"Well, well, cut your story short, man. Adsheart, ye've more words thanmatter."
"Ay, but wait to th' end, wait to th' end," put in a voice.
"The end of a rope 'twill be, and not for one neither," added another.
The constable looked a little uncomfortable.
"So I had un fast in the lock-up, Cap'n," he went on, "and 'twas thetalk o' the village all day long. Squire himself heard on't, and downhe come, so he do, and bein' hisself a justice o' the peace he goos intothe lock-up and zees the man, and axes un questions, not for my ears, mebein' a constable; nay, I stood guard at the door; and when Squire coomout he says to me, 'Constable,' says he, 'keep a good guard on un; hedeserves hangen, ay, and his mates too.' Never seed I Squire somad-like; 'twas 'cos it was a lard, maybe, and on his own ground, as 'eemed say."
"Ay, and nearer nor that," said a voice.
The captain put down the tankard from which he was quaffing, and glaredround the faces. They were blank as the wall behind them.
"And now what'll he say?" pursued the constable. "He were mad afore, aysure; now he'll ramp and roar worse nor the lion beast at SalisburyFair. Ye med not believe it, Cap'n, but 'tis true for all that; thegodless villain ha' dared Squire an' Sir Godfrey an' me an' all; ha'broke his bonds an' stole away, like a thief i' the night, as the Booksays."
"What!" cried the captain, leaning forward and thumping the table."Escaped, has he?"
"A' has so, like a eel off the hook."
"Ha! ha! Stap me! eels are slippery things. But 'tis a rub for you,master constable. You'll lose your place, i' faith, you will."
"Why now, it be no sin o' mine. I left un snug in lock-up, I did, doordouble-locked and bar up, an' went to take my forty winks like a honestpoor man; an' no sooner my back turned than out skips the pris'ner, likeSimon Peter in the story. There be witchcraft in't, an' that 'ee oughtto know, Cap'n, seein' as the villain be your own sarvant."
"Eh, fellow?"
"Sakes alive, I thowt as 'ee knowed that all the time! Sure 'twas JohnSimmons, your honour's own body-slave, so to speak. An' I was main gladto see 'ee, Cap'n, 'cause now 'ee know un for what he is, 'ee'll help meto cotch un, in the Queen's name."
"Knows where he be, I'll be bound," said one of the group in a low tone.The captain sprang from his chair, ran round the table, and, before thespeaker could defend himself, he caught him by the throat and hurled himto the floor.
"Zounds, loon!" he cried in a passion, "what do you mean? Will youaffront me, eh? will you mouth your cursed insults to my very face?Odzooks, I'll slit your weazand, hound, and any man of you that dares ahint o' the sort, so 'ware all!"
The men looked abashed and uncomfortable; the hostess was pale withapprehension, and the constable edged away from the irate captain. Hisburst of passion over, he turned to Mrs. Joplady and spoke in quietertones.
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p; "I brook no insolence, mistress. I don't answer for my servant's deedsbehind my back. I've been away all day, as poor Jenny will bear mewitness; was I to know my fool of a servant would play highwayman in myabsence? 'Tis a useful fellow, civil, too, beyond most; I picked him upin London; he was in truth commended to me by no less than his grace theDuke of Ormond, who tapped me on the shoulder in the Piazza at CoventGarden, and said, 'Aglionby, my bawcock, you want a servant; I know thevery man for you!' Could I suspect a man after that? How he got mixedup in this business beats me. And as for helping master constable torepair his carelessness--adsbud, 'tis not likely. The man in truth isno longer servant of mine. I am on my way to serve the Queen inFlanders, and this very day arranged with my friend Sir Rupert Verney totake the fellow off my hands. You may hang him, for me!"
"There now, Sam," said the hostess, turning to the man who had beenfelled, and was now at the door glowering; "your tongue runs away wi''ee. Beg the cap'n's pardon, and don't go for to make a ninny o'yourself."
"Never mind, my good woman," said Aglionby loftily. "The yokel knows nobetter. Now, I'm tired out; give me a bed, good soul, for I must awayat sunrise--and egad, 'tis past one o'clock! Good-night to 'ee, men;and I hope Sir Godfrey will forgive you, constable."
He went from the room, and soon afterwards the hostess bade thevillagers get to their beds, and closed the inn for the short remnant ofthe night.
Before seven o'clock next morning the captain was on horseback. Theground was wet; it had been drizzling for several hours, but a misty sunwas now struggling up the sky, and Tom ostler foretold a fine day. Thecaptain rode off, answering with a bold stare the suspicious andlowering glances of the few villagers who were on the spot. He was inhigh spirits; the anxieties of the past night were gone; and as he rodehe hummed a careless tune. He had ridden but little more than a milewhen, from an intersecting lane, a man stepped out and gripped thehorse's reins.
"Get off that there horse!" he said bluntly.
"Gads so, Sherry, you gave me quite a turn," said the captain withunusual mildness. "Don't hinder me, man; I'm off to Flanders, and, i'faith, that's where you ought to be yourself, if all was known. Come,what's the meaning o't?"
"Get off that there horse!" repeated Sherebiah. "I'm a man o' peace, Ibe, and I settles all scores prompt."
There was a look of determination in his eyes, and in his right hand hegrasped a knobby cudgel.
"Right! but we've no accounts to settle.--What!" he cried, as he sawSherebiah's cudgel raised, "you play the bully, eh? Gadzooks, I'll ferkye if----"
He was drawing his sword, but the cudgel fell with a resounding whackupon his knuckles, and with a cry of pain he scrambled to the ground andstood, a picture of sullen rage, before his intercepter.
"I'll thank 'ee for your pistols," said Sherebiah, removing them fromthe holsters as he spoke. "Nay, don't finger your sword; I be a man o'peace, and you know my play with the quarterstaff. Jenny, old girl,crop your fill by the roadside while I have a reckonen wi' Cap'nAglionby." He laid a curious stress upon the title. "Now, Ralph, yoube comen wi' me into wood yonder. 'Tis there we'll settle our score."
Seizing the captain with his left hand, he led him down the lane,through a gap in the hedge, into a thin copse of larches, until he cameto a narrow glade. Aglionby assumed an air of jocular resignation; butthat he was ill at ease was proved by the restless glances he gaveSherebiah out of the corner of his eye.
"Off wi' your coat!" said Sherebiah, having reached the centre of theglade. "Off wi't! I be gwine to pound 'ee; you can defend yourself,but you'm gwine to be pounded whether or no."
"Confound you, man, what have I done to you? Why the----"
"Off wi't, off wi't! Least said soonest mended. Great barkers be nobiters, so it do seem; doff your coat, Cap'n Aglionby!"
"Well, if you will!" cried the captain, with a burst of passion. "I'llcomb your noddle, I'll trounce you, for an insolent canting runagatebooby!"
He flung his coat on the wet grass; Sherebiah laid down the cudgel andfollowed his example.
"Come on, Cap'n Aglionby!" he said. "'Tis not, as 'ee med say, a job tomy liken, trouncen a big grown man like you; but 't ha' got to be done,for your good and my own peace o' mind. So the sooner 'tis over thebetter."
To a casual onlooker the two would have seemed very unequally matched.The captain stood at least a head taller than his opponent, and wasbroad in proportion. But he was puffy and bloated; Sherebiah, on theother hand, though thick-set, was hard and agile.
As if anxious to finish an uncongenial task with the least delay, heforced matters from the start. The captain had no lack of bull-dogcourage, and he still possessed the remnant of great physical strength.To an ordinary opponent he would have proved even yet no meanantagonist; and when, after a few sharp exchanges, Sherebiah's punishingstrokes roused him to fury, he rained upon the smaller man a storm ofblows any one of which, had it got home, might have felled an ox. ButSherebiah parried with easy skill, and continued to use his fists withmathematical precision. Once or twice he allowed the captain, nowpanting and puffing, to regain his wind, and when the burly warriorshowed a disposition to lengthen the interval he brought him back to thebusiness in hand with a cheery summons.
"Now, Cap'n Aglionby," he would say, "let's to 't again. Come, man,'twill soon be over!"
At last, beside himself with rage, the captain attempted to close withand throw his opponent. He could scarcely have made a more unfortunatemove. For a few moments the two men swung and swayed; then Aglionbydescribed a semicircle over Sherebiah's shoulder, and fell with aresounding thud to the ground. Neither combatant was aware that forsome time a spectator had been silently watching them. Harry Rochester,coming whistling through the trees, had halted in surprise, at the edgeof the glade, as his eyes took in the scene.
"There now, 'tis over and done," said Sherebiah, stooping to pick up hiscoat. "That score's wiped off. Stand on your feet, man! And I'lltrouble 'ee for your sword."
The captain staggered to his feet. He was in no condition to refuse thevictor's demand.
Sherebiah took the weapon and broke it across his knee. From his ownpocket he then took the captain's pistols. He carefully drew theircharges, and handed them back.
"Now, hie 'ee to Flanders," he said. "You've done more fighten thismornin' than you'll ever do there. You'll find Jenny on the road."
The captain glared at him, and seemed about to reply. But he thoughtbetter of it, and with a vindictive glare walked slowly away.
"What's it all about, Sherry?" said Harry, stepping forward whenAglionby had disappeared.
"Ah, that be 'ee, sir? 'Twas only a little small matter o' difference'twixt Cap'n Aglionby and me. We're quits now."
"You'll have to get Mistress Joplady to give you a raw steak for youreye."
"Ay sure, Cap'n did get in a hit or two," replied Sherebiah placidly.
"I didn't know you were such a fighter."
Sherebiah gave him a quick look out of his uninjured eye.
"Nay, I bean't a fighter, not me," he said. "I'm a man o' peace; I beso."