CHAPTER II
THE MURDER BY THE MERE
For a while Sir John and his retainer rode in silence. Then he laughedloudly.
"Jeffrey," he called, "that was a near touch. Sir Priest was minded tostick his Spanish pick-tooth between our ribs, and shrive us afterwards,as we lay dying, to salve his conscience."
"Yes, master; only, being reasonable, he remembered that English swordshave a longer reach, and that his bullies are in the Ford ale-houseseeing the Old Year out, and so put it off. Master, I have always toldyou that old October of yours is too strong to drink at noon. It shouldbe saved till bed-time."
"What do you mean, man?"
"I mean that ale spoke yonder, not wisdom. You have showed your hand andplayed the fool."
"Who are you to teach me?" asked Sir John angrily. "I meant that heshould hear the truth for once, the slimy traitor."
"Perhaps, perhaps; but these be bad days for Truth and those who courther. Was it needful to tell him that to-morrow you journey to Londonupon a certain errand?"
"Why not? I'll be there before him."
"Will you ever be there, master? The road runs past the Abbey, and thatpriest has good ruffians in his pay who can hold their tongues."
"Do you mean that he will waylay me? I say he dare not. Still, to pleaseyou, we will take the longer path through the forest."
"A rough one, master; but who goes with you on this business? Most ofus are away with the wains, and others make holiday. There are but threeserving-men at the hall, and you cannot leave the Lady Cicely without aguard, or take her with you through this cold. Remember there'swealth yonder which some may need more even than your lands," he addedmeaningly. "Wait a while, then, till your people return or you can callup your tenants, and go to London as one of your quality should, withtwenty good men at your back."
"And so give our friend the Abbot time to get Cromwell's ear, andthrough him that of the King. No, no; I ride to-morrow at the dawn withyou, or, if you are afraid, without you, as I have done before and takenno harm."
"None shall say that Jeffrey Stokes is afraid of man or priest ordevil," answered the old soldier, colouring. "Your road has been goodenough for me this thirty years, and it is good enough now. If I warnedyou it was not for my own sake, who care little what comes, but foryours and that of your house."
"I know it," said Sir John more kindly. "Take not my words ill, mytemper is up to-day. Thank the saints! here is the hall at last. Why!whose horse has passed the gates before us?"
Jeffrey glanced at the tracks which the moonlight showed very clearly inthe new-fallen snow.
"Sir Christopher Harflete's grey mare," he said. "I know the shoeing andthe round shape of the hoof. Doubtless he is visiting Mistress Cicely."
"Whom I have forbidden to him," grumbled Sir John, swinging himself fromthe saddle.
"Forbid him not," answered Jeffrey, as he took his horse. "ChristopherHarflete may yet be a good friend to a maid in need, and I think thatneed is nigh."
"Mind your business, knave," shouted Sir John. "Am I to be set at naughtin my own house by a chit of a girl and a gallant who would mend hisbroken fortunes?"
"If you ask me, I think so," replied the imperturbable Jeffrey, as heled away the horses.
Sir John strode into the house by the backway, which opened on to thestable-yard. Taking the lantern that stood by the door, he went alonggalleries and upstairs to the sitting-chamber above the hall, which,since her mother's death, his daughter had used as her own, for herehe guessed that he would find her. Setting down the lantern upon thepassage table, he pushed open the door, which was not latched, andentered.
The room was large, and, being lighted only by the great fire thatburned upon the hearth and two candles, all this end of it was hid inshadow. Near to the deep window-place the shadow ceased, however, andhere, seated in a high-backed oak chair, with the light of the blazingfire falling full upon her, was Cicely Foterell, Sir John's onlysurviving child. She was a tall and graceful maiden, blue-eyed,brown-haired, fair-skinned, with a round and child-like face whichmost people thought beautiful to look upon. Just now this face, thatgenerally was so arch and cheerful, seemed somewhat troubled. For thisthere might be a reason, since, seated upon a stool at her side, was ayoung man talking to her earnestly.
He was a stalwart young man, very broad about the shoulders, clean-cutin feature, with a long, straight nose, black hair, and merry blackeyes. Also, as such a gallant should do, he appeared to be making lovewith much vigour and directness, for his face was upturned pleading withthe girl, who leaned back in her chair answering him nothing. At thismoment, indeed, his copious flow of words came to an end, perhaps fromexhaustion, perhaps for other reasons, and was succeeded by a moreeffective method of attack. Suddenly sinking from the stool to hisknees, he took the unresisting hand of Cicely and kissed it severaltimes; then, emboldened by his success, threw his long arms about her,and before Sir John, choked with indignation, could find words to stophim, drew her towards him and treated her red lips as he had treated herfingers. This rude proceeding seemed to break the spell that bound her,for she pushed back the chair and, escaping from his grasp, rose, sayingin a broken voice----
"Oh! Christopher, dear Christopher, this is most wrong."
"May be," he answered. "So long as you love me I care not what it is."
"That you have known these two years, Christopher. I love you well,but, alas! my father will have none of you. Get you hence now, erehe returns, or we both shall pay for it, and I, perhaps, be sent to anunnery where no man may come."
"Nay, sweet, I am here to ask his consent to my suit----"
Then at last Sir John broke out.
"To ask my consent to your suit, you dishonest knave!" he roared fromthe darkness; whereat Cicely sank back into her chair looking as thoughshe would faint, and the strong Christopher staggered like a man piercedby an arrow. "First to take my girl and hug her before my very eyes, andthen, when the mischief is done, to ask my consent to your suit!" and herushed at them like a charging bull.
Cicely rose to fly, then, seeing no escape, took refuge in her lover'sarms. Her infuriated father seized the first part of her that came tohis hand, which chanced to be one of her long brown plaits of hair, andtugged at it till she cried out with pain, purposing to tear her away,at which sight and sound Christopher lost his temper also.
"Leave go of the maid, sir," he said in a low, fierce voice, "or, byGod! I'll make you."
"Leave go of the maid?" gasped Sir John. "Why, who holds her tightest,you or I? Do you leave go of her."
"Yes, yes, Christopher," she whispered, "ere I am pulled in two."
Then he obeyed, lifting her into the chair, but her father still kepthis hold of the brown tress.
"Now, Sir Christopher," he said, "I am minded to put my sword throughyou."
"And pierce your daughter's heart as well as mine. Well, do it if youwill, and when we are dead and you are childless, weep yourself and goto the grave."
"Oh! father, father," broke in Cicely, who knew the old man's temper,and feared the worst, "in justice and in pity, listen to me. All myheart is Christopher's, and has been from a child. With him I shall havehappiness, without him black despair; and that is his case too, or sohe swears. Why, then, should you part us? Is he not a proper man and ofgood lineage, and name unstained? Until of late did you not ever favourhim much and let us be together day by day? And now, when it is toolate, you deny him. Oh! why, why?"
"You know why well enough, girl? Because I have chosen another husbandfor you. The Lord Despard is taken with your baby face, and would marryyou. But this morning I had it under his own hand."
"The Lord Despard?" gasped Cicely. "Why, he only buried his secondwife last month! Father, he is as old as you are, and drunken, and hasgrandchildren of well-nigh my age. I would obey you in all things, butnever will I go to him alive."
"And never shall he live to take you," muttered Christopher.
"What matter his years, daughter? He is
a sound man, and has no son,and should one be born to him, his will be the greatest heritage withinthree shires. Moreover, I need his friendship, who have bitter enemies.But enough of this. Get you gone, Christopher, before worse befall you."
"So be it, sir, I will go; but first, as an honest man and my father'sfriend, and, as I thought, my own, answer me one question. Why have youchanged your tune to me of late? Am I not the same Christopher HarfleteI was a year or two ago? And have I done aught to lower me in theworld's eye or in yours?"
"No, lad," answered the old knight bluntly; "but since you will have it,here it is. Within that year or two your uncle whose heir you were hasmarried and bred a son, and now you are but a gentleman of good name,and little to float it on. That big house of yours must go to thehammer, Christopher. You'll never stow a bride in it."
"Ah! I thought as much. Christopher Harflete with the promise of theLesborough lands was one man; Christopher Harflete without them isanother--in your eyes. Yet, sir, I hold you foolish. I love yourdaughter and she loves me, and those lands and more may come back, orI, who am no fool, will win others. Soon there will be plenty going upthere at Court, where I am known. Further, I tell you this: I believethat I shall marry Cicely, and earlier than you think, and I would havehad your blessing with her."
"What! Will you steal the girl away?" asked Sir John furiously.
"By no means, sir. But this is a strange world of ours, in which fromhour to hour top becomes bottom, and bottom top, and there--I think Ishall marry her. At least I am sure that Despard the sot never will,for I'll kill him first, if I hang for it. Sir, sir, surely you will notthrow your pearl upon that muckheap. Better crush it beneath your heelat once. Look, and say you cannot do it," and he pointed to the patheticfigure of Cicely, who stood by them with clasped hands, panting breast,and a face of agony.
The old knight glanced at her out of the corners of his eyes, and sawsomething that moved him to pity, for at bottom his heart was honest,and though he treated her so roughly, as was the fashion of the times,he loved his daughter more than all the world.
"Who are you, that would teach me my duty to my bone and blood?" hegrumbled. Then he thought a while, and added, "Hear me, now, ChristopherHarflete. To-morrow at the dawn I ride to London with Jeffrey Stokes ona somewhat risky business."
"What business, sir?"
"If you would know--that of a quarrel with yonder Spanish rogue of anAbbot, who claims the best part of my lands, and has poisoned the earof that upstart, the Vicar-General Cromwell. I go to take the deeds andprove him a liar and a traitor also, which Cromwell does not know. Now,is my nest safe from you while I am away? Give me your word, and I'llbelieve you, for at least you are an honest gentleman, and if you havepoached a kiss or two, that may be forgiven. Others have done the samebefore you were born. Give me your word, or I must drag the girl throughthe snows to London at my heels."
"You have it, sir," answered Christopher. "If she needs my company shemust come for it to Cranwell Towers, for I'll not seek hers while youare away."
"Good. Then one gift for another. I'll not answer my Lord of Despard'sletter till I get back again--not to please you, but because I hatewriting. It is a labour to me, and I have no time to spare to-night.Now, have a cup of drink and be off with you. Love-making is thirstywork."
"Aye, gladly, sir, but hear me, hear me. Ride not to London with suchslight attendance after a quarrel with Abbot Maldon. Let me wait on you.Although my fortunes be so low I can bring a man or two--six or eight,indeed--while yours are away with the wains."
"Never, Christopher. My own hand has guarded my head these sixty years,and can do so still. Also," he added, with a flash of insight, "as yousay, the journey is dangerous, and who knows? If aught went wrong, youmight be wanted nearer home. Christopher, you shall never have my girl;she's not for you. Yet, perhaps, if need were, you would strike a blowfor her even if it made you excommunicate. Get hence, wench. Why do youstand there gaping on us, like an owl in sunlight? And remember, ifI catch you at more such tricks, you'll spend your days mumbling atprayers in a nunnery, and much good may they do you."
"At least I should find peace there, and gentle words," answered Cicelywith spirit, for she knew her father, and the worst of her fear haddeparted. "Only, sir, I did not know that you wished to swell the wealthof the Abbots of Blossholme."
"Swell their wealth!" roared her father. "Nay, I'll stretch their necks.Get you to your chamber, and send up Jeffrey with the liquor."
Then, having no choice, Cicely curtseyed, first to her father and nextto Christopher, to whom she sent a message with her eyes that shedared not utter with her lips, and so vanished into the shadows, wherepresently she was heard stumbling against some article of furniture.
"Show the maid a light, Christopher," said Sir John, who, lost in hisown thoughts, was now gazing into the fire.
Seizing one of the two candles, Christopher sprang after her like ahound after a hare, and presently the pair of them passed through thedoor and down the long passage beyond. At a turn in it they halted, andonce more, without word spoken, she found her way into those long arms.
"You will not forget me, even if we must part?" sobbed Cicely.
"Nay, sweet," he answered. "Moreover, keep a brave heart; we do not partfor long, for God has given us to each other. Your father does not meanall he says, and his temper, which has been stirred to-day, will soften.If not, we must look to ourselves. I keep a swift horse or two, Cicely.Could you ride one if need were?"
"I have ever loved riding," she said meaningly.
"Good. Then you shall never go to that fat hog's sty, for I'll stick himfirst. And I have friends both in Scotland and in France. Which like youbest?"
"They say the air of France is softer. Now, away from me, or one willcome to seek us," and they tore themselves apart.
"Emlyn, your foster-mother, is to be trusted," he said rapidly; "alsoshe loves me well. If there be need, let me hear of you through her."
"Aye," she answered, "without fail," and glided from him like a ghost.
"Have you been waiting to see the moon rise?" asked Sir John, glancingat Christopher from beneath his shaggy eyebrows as he returned.
"Nay, sir, but the passages in this old house of yours are most wondrouslong, and I took a wrong turn in threading them."
"Oh!" said Sir John. "Well, you have a talent for wrong turns, andsuch partings are hard. Now, do you understand that this is the last ofthem?"
"I understand that you may say so, sir."
"And that I mean it, too, I hope. Listen, Christopher," he added, withearnestness, but in a kindly voice. "Believe me, I like you well, andwould not give you pain, or the maid yonder, if I could help it. Yet Ihave no choice. I am threatened on all sides by priest and king, and youhave lost your heritage. She is the only jewel that I can pawn, and foryour own safety's sake and her children's sake, must marry well. YonderDespard will not live long, he drinks too hard; and then your day maycome, if you still care for his leavings--perhaps in two years, perhapsin less, for she will soon see him out. Now, let us talk no more ofthe matter, but if aught befalls me, be a friend to her. Here comes theliquor--drink it up and be off. Though I seem rough with you, my hope isthat you may quaff many another cup at Shefton."