CHAPTER XVI. THE RECKONING
Sir Crispin had heard naught of what was being said as he entered theroom wherein the brothers plotted against him, and he little dreamt thathis identity was discovered. He had but hastened to perform that which,under ordinary circumstances, would have been a natural enough dutytowards the master of the house. He had been actuated also by animpatience again to behold this Joseph Ashburn--the man who had dealthim that murderous sword-thrust eighteen years ago. He watched himattentively, and gathering from his scrutiny that here was a dangerous,subtle man, different, indeed, to his dull-witted brother, he haddetermined to act at once.
And so when he appeared in the hall at suppertime, he came armed andbooted, and equipped as for a journey.
Joseph was standing alone by the huge fire-place, his face to theburning logs, and his foot resting upon one of the andirons. Gregory andhis daughter were talking together in the embrasure of a window. By theother window, across the hall, stood Kenneth, alone and disconsolate,gazing out at the drizzling rain that had begun to fall.
As Galliard descended, Joseph turned his head, and his eyebrows shot upand wrinkled his forehead at beholding the knight's equipment.
"How is this, Sir Crispin?" said he. "You are going a journey?"
"Too long already have I imposed myself upon the hospitality of CastleMarleigh," Crispin answered politely as he came and stood before theblazing logs. "To-night, Mr. Ashburn, I go hence."
A curious expression flitted across Joseph's face. The next moment,his brows still knit as he sought to fathom his sudden action, he wasmuttering the formal regrets that courtesy dictated. But Crispin hadremarked that singular expression on Joseph's face--fleeting though ithad been--and it flashed across his mind that Joseph knew him. And as hemoved away towards Cynthia and her father, he thanked Heaven that he hadtaken such measures as he had thought wise and prudent for the carryingout of his resolve.
Following him with a glance, Joseph asked himself whether Crispin haddiscovered that he was recognized, and had determined to withdraw,leaving his vengeance for another and more propitious season. Inanswer--little knowing the measure of the man he dealt with--he toldhimself it must be so, and having arrived at that conclusion, he thereand then determined that Crispin should not depart free to return andplague them when he listed. Since Galliard shrank from forcing mattersto an issue, he himself would do it that very night, and thereby settlefor all time his business. And so ere he sat down to sup Joseph lookedto it that his sword lay at hand behind his chair at the table-head.
The meal was a quiet one enough. Kenneth was sulking 'neath the freshill-usage--as he deemed it--that he had suffered at Cynthia's hands.Cynthia, in her turn, was grave and silent. That story of Sir Crispin'ssufferings gave her much to think of, as did also his departure, andmore than once did Galliard find her eyes fixed upon him with a lookhalf of pity, half of some other feeling that he was at a loss tointerpret. Gregory's big voice was little heard. The sinister glitterin his brother's eye made him apprehensive and ill at ease. For him thehour was indeed in travail and like to bring forth strange doings--butnot half so much as it was for Crispin and Joseph, each bent uponforcing matters to a head ere they quitted that board. And yet but forthese two the meal would have passed off in dismal silence. Josephwas at pains to keep suspicion from his guest, and with that intent hetalked gaily of this and that, told of slight matters that had befallenhim on his recent journey and of the doings that in London he hadwitnessed, investing each trifling incident with a garb of wit thatrendered it entertaining.
And Galliard--actuated by the same motives grew reminiscent wheneverJoseph paused and let his nimble tongue--even nimblest at a table amusethose present, or seem to amuse them, by a score of drolleries.
He drank deeply too, and this Joseph observed with satisfaction. Buthere again he misjudged his man. Kenneth, who ate but little, seemedalso to have developed an enormous thirst, and Crispin grew at lengthalarmed at that ever empty goblet so often filled. He would have needof Kenneth ere the hour was out, and he rightly feared that did mattersthus continue, the lad's aid was not to be reckoned with. Had Kennethsat beside him he might have whispered a word of restraint in his eat,but the lad was on the other side of the board.
At one moment Crispin fancied that a look of intelligence passed fromJoseph to Gregory, and when presently Gregory set himself to ply bothhim and the boy with wine, his suspicions became certainties, and hegrew watchful and wary.
Anon Cynthia rose. Upon the instant Galliard was also on his feet. Heescorted her to the foot of the staircase, and there:
"Permit me, Mistress Cynthia," said he, "to take my leave of you. In anhour or so I shall be riding away from Castle Marleigh."
Her eyes sought the ground, and had he been observant of her he mighthave noticed that she paled slightly.
"Fare you well, sir," said she in a low voice. "May happiness attendyou."
"Madam, I thank you. Fare you well."
He bowed low. She dropped him a slight curtsey, and ascended the stairs.Once as she reached the gallery above she turned. He had resumed hisseat at table, and was in the act of filling his glass. The servants hadwithdrawn, and for half an hour thereafter they sat on, sipping theirwine, and making conversation--while Crispin drained bumper afterbumper and grew every instant more boisterous, until at length hisboisterousness passed into incoherence. His eyelids drooped heavily, andhis chin kept ever and anon sinking forward on to his breast.
Kenneth, flushed with wine, yet master of his wits, watched him withcontempt. This was the man Cynthia preferred to him! Contempt was therealso in Joseph Ashburn's eye, mingled with satisfaction. He had notlooked to find the task so easy. At length he deemed the season ripe.
"My brother tells me that you were once acquainted with RolandMarleigh," said he.
"Aye," he answered thickly. "I knew the dog--a merry, reckless soul,d--n me. 'Twas his recklessness killed him, poor devil--that and yourhand, Mr. Ashburn, so the story goes."
"What story?"
"What story?" echoed Crispin. "The story that I heard. Do you say Ilie?" And, swaying in his chair, he sought to assume an air of defiance.
Joseph laughed in a fashion that made Kenneth's blood run cold.
"Why, no, I don't deny it. It was in fair fight he fell. Moreover, hebrought the duel upon himself."
Crispin spoke no word in answer, but rose unsteadily to his feet, sounsteadily that his chair was overset and fell with a crash behind him.For a moment he surveyed it with a drunken leer, then went lurchingacross the hall towards the door that led to the servants' quarters.The three men sat on, watching his antics in contempt, curiosity, andamusement. They saw him gain the heavy oaken door and close it. Theyheard the bolts rasp as he shot them home, and the lock click; and theysaw him withdraw the key and slip it into his pocket.
The cold smile still played round Joseph's lips as Crispin turned toface them again, and on Joseph's lips did that same smile freeze as hesaw him standing there, erect and firm, his drunkenness all vanished,and his eyes keen and fierce; as he heard the ring of his metallicvoice:
"You lie, Joseph Ashburn. It was no fair fight. It was no duel. It wasa foul, murderous stroke you dealt him in the back, thinking to butcherhim as you butchered his wife and his babe. But there is a God, MasterAshburn," he went on in an ever-swelling voice, "and I lived. Like asalamander I came through the flames in which you sought to destroy alltrace of your vile deed. I lived, and I, Crispin Galliard, the debauchedTavern Knight that was once Roland Marleigh, am here to demand areckoning."
The very incarnation was he then of an avenger, as he stood toweringbefore them, his grim face livid with the passion into which he hadlashed himself as he spoke, his blazing eyes watching them in thatcunning, half-closed way that was his when his mood was dangerous.And yet the only one that quailed was Kenneth, his ally, upon whomcomprehension burst with stunning swiftness.
Joseph recovered quickly from the surprise of Crispin's suddenlyreassumed s
obriety. He understood the trick that Galliard had playedupon them so that he might cut off their retreat in the only directionin which they might have sought assistance, and he cursed himself fornot having foreseen it. Still, anxiety he felt none; his sword was tohis hand, and Gregory was armed; at the very worst they were two calmand able men opposed to a half-intoxicated boy, and a man whom fury, hethought, must strip of half his power. Probably, indeed, the lad wouldside with them, despite his plighted word. Again, he had but to raisehis voice, and, though the door that Crispin had fastened was a stoutone, he never doubted but that his call would penetrate it and bringhis servants to his rescue.
And so, a smile of cynical unconcern returned to his lips and his answerwas delivered in a cold, incisive voice.
"The reckoning you have come to demand shall be paid you, sir. RakehellyGalliard is the hero of many a reckless deed, but my judgment is muchat fault if this prove not his crowning recklessness and his last one.Gadswounds, sir, are you mad to come hither single-handed to beard thelion in his den?"
"Rather the cur in his kennel," sneered Crispin back. "Blood and wounds,Master Joseph, think you to affright me with words?"
Still Joseph smiled, deeming himself master of the situation.
"Were help needed, the raising of my voice would bring it me. But it isnot. We are three to one."
"You reckon wrongly. Mr. Stewart belongs to me to-night--bound by anoath that 'twould damn his soul to break, to help me when and where Imay call upon him; and I call upon him now. Kenneth, draw your sword."
Kenneth groaned as he stood by, clasping and unclasping his hands.
"God's curse on you," he burst out. "You have tricked me, you havecheated me."
"Bear your oath in mind," was the cold answer. "If you deem yourselfwronged by me, hereafter you shall have what satisfaction you demand.But first fulfil me what you have sworn. Out with your blade, man."
Still Kenneth hesitated, and but for Gregory's rash action at thatcritical juncture, it is possible that he would have elected tobreak his plighted word. But Gregory fearing that he might determineotherwise, resolved there and then to remove the chance of it. Whippingout his sword, he made a vicious pass at the lad's breast. Kennethavoided it by leaping backwards, but in an instant Gregory had sprungafter him, and seeing himself thus beset, Kenneth was forced to drawthat he might protect himself.
They stood in the space between the table and that part of the hall thatabutted on to the terrace; opposite to them, by the door which hehad closed, stood Crispin. At the table-head Joseph still sat cool,self-contained, even amused.
He realized the rashness of Gregory's attack upon one that might yethave been won over to their side; but he never doubted that a few passeswould dispose of the lad's opposition, and he sought not to interfere.Then he saw Crispin advancing towards him slowly, his rapier naked inhis hand, and he was forced to look to himself. He caught at the swordthat stood behind him, and leaping to his feet he sprang forward tomeet his grim antagonist. Galliard's eyes flashed out a look of joy, heraised his rapier, and their blades met.
To the clash of their meeting came an echoing clash from beyond thetable.
"Hold, sir!" Kenneth had cried, as Gregory bore down upon him. ButGregory's answer had been a lunge which the boy had been forced toparry. Taking that crossing of blades for a sign of opposition, Gregorythrust again more viciously. Kenneth parried narrowly, his bladepointing straight at his aggressor. He saw the opening, and bothinstinct and the desire to repel Gregory's onslaught drew him intoattempting a riposte, which drove Gregory back until his shoulderstouched the panels of the wall. Simultaneously the boy's foot struck theback of the chair which in rising Crispin had overset, and he stumbled.How it happened he scarcely knew, but as he hurtled forward his bladeslid along his opponent's, and entering Gregory's right shoulder pinnedhim to the wainscot.
Joseph heard the tinkle of a falling blade, and assumed it to beKenneth's. For the rest he was just then too busy to dare withdraw fora second his eyes from Crispin's. Until that hour Joseph Ashburn hadaccounted himself something of a swordsman, and more than a matchfor most masters of the weapon. But in Crispin he found a fencer of aquality such as he had never yet encountered. Every feint, every bottein his catalogue had he paraded in quick succession, yet ever with thesame result--his point was foiled and put aside with ease.
Desperately he fought now, darting that point of his hither and thitherin and out whenever the slightest opening offered; yet ever did itmeet the gentle averting pressure of Crispin's blade. He fought on andmarvelled as the seconds went by that Gregory came not to his aid. Thenthe sickening thought that perhaps Gregory was overcome occurred tohim. In such a case he must reckon upon himself alone. He cursedthe over-confidence that had led him into that ever-fatal error ofunderestimating his adversary. He might have known that one who hadacquired Sir Crispin's fame was no ordinary man, but one accustomed toface great odds and master them. He might call for help.
He marvelled as the thought occurred to him that the clatter of theirblades had not drawn his servants from their quarters. Fencing still, heraised his voice:
"Ho, there! John, Stephen!"
"Spare your breath," growled the knight. "I dare swear you'll have needof it. None will hear you, call as you will. I gave your four henchmena flagon of wine wherein to drink to my safe journey hence. They haveemptied it ere this, I make no doubt, and a single glass of it would setthe hardest toper asleep for the round of the clock."
An oath was Joseph's only answer--a curse it was upon his own folly andassurance. A little while ago he had thought to have drawn so tighta net about this ruler, and here was he now taken in its very toils,well-nigh exhausted and in his enemy's power.
It occurred to him then that Crispin stayed his hand. That he fencedonly on the defensive, and he wondered what might his motive be. Herealized that he was mastered, and that at any moment Galliard mightsend home his blade. He was bathed from head to foot in a sweat that wasat once of exertion and despair. A frenzy seized him. Might he not yetturn to advantage this hesitancy of Crispin's to strike the final blow?
He braced himself for a supreme effort, and turning his wrist from asimulated thrust in the first position, he doubled, and stretching out,lunged vigorously in quarte. As he lengthened his arm in the strokethere came a sudden twitch at his wrist; the weapon was twisted from hisgrasp, and he stood disarmed at Crispin's mercy.
A gurgling cry broke despite him from his lips, and his eyes grew widein a sickly terror as they encountered the knight's sinister glance. Notthree paces behind him was the wall, and on it, within the hand's easyreach, hung many a trophied weapon that might have served him then. Butthe fascination of fear was upon him, benumbing his wits and paralysinghis limbs, with the thought that the next pulsation of his tumultuousheart would prove its last. The calm, unflinching courage that hadbeen Joseph's only virtue was shattered, and his iron will that hadunscrupulously held hitherto his very conscience in bondage was turnedto water now that he stood face to face with death.
Eons of time it seemed to him were sped since the sword was wrenchedfrom his hand, and still the stroke he awaited came not; still Crispinstood, sinister and silent before him, watching him with magnetic,fascinating eyes--as the snake watches the bird--eyes from which Josephcould not withdraw his own, and yet before which it seemed to him thathe quaked and shrivelled.
The candles were burning low in their sconces, and the corners of thatample, gloomy hall were filled with mysterious shadows that formed asetting well attuned to the grim picture made by those two figures--theone towering stern and vengeful, the other crouching palsied and livid.
Beyond the table, and with the wounded Gregory--lying unconscious andbleeding--at his feet, stood Kenneth looking on in silence, in wonderand in some horror too.
To him also, as he watched, the seconds seemed minutes from the timewhen Crispin had disarmed his opponent until with a laugh--short andsudden as a stab--he dropped his sword and caught his victim by the
throat.
However fierce the passion that had actuated Crispin, it had been heldhitherto in strong subjection. But now at last it suddenly welled up andmastered him, causing him to cast all restraint to the winds, to abandonreason, and to give way to the lust of rage that rendered ungovernablehis mood.
Like a burst of flame from embers that have been smouldering was theupleaping of his madness, transfiguring his face and transforming hiswhole being. A new, unconquerable strength possessed him; his pulsesthrobbed swiftly and madly with the quickened coursing of his blood, andhis soul was filled with the cruel elation that attends a lust about tobe indulged the elation of the beast about to rend its prey.
He was pervaded by the desire to wreak slowly and with his hands thedestruction of his broken enemy. To have passed his sword through himwould have been too swiftly done; the man would have died, and Crispinwould have known nothing of his sufferings. But to take him thus bythe throat; slowly to choke the life's breath out of him; to feel hisdesperate, writhing struggles; to be conscious of every agonized twitchof his sinews, to watch the purpling face, the swelling veins, theprotruding eyes filled with the dumb horror of his agony; to hold himthus--each second becoming a distinct, appreciable division of time--andthus to take what payment he could for all the blighted years that laybehind him--this he felt would be something like revenge.
Meanwhile the shock of surprise at the unlooked-for movement hadawakened again the man in Joseph. For a second even Hope knocked athis heart. He was sinewy and active, and perchance he might yet makeGalliard repent that he had discarded his rapier. The knight's reasonfor doing so he thought he had in Crispin's contemptuous words:
"Good steel were too great an honour for you, Mr. Ashburn."
And as he spoke, his lean, nervous fingers tightened about Joseph'sthroat in a grip that crushed the breath from him, and with it thenew-born hope of proving master in his fresh combat. He had not reckonedwith this galley-weaned strength of Crispin's, a strength that was arevelation to Joseph as he felt himself almost lifted from the ground,and swung this way and that, like a babe in the hands of a grown man.Vain were his struggles. His strength ebbed fast; the blood, heldoverlong in his head, was already obscuring his vision, when at last thegrip relaxed, and his breathing was freed. As his sight cleared againhe found himself back in his chair at the table-head, and beside him SirCrispin, his left hand resting upon the board, his right grasping oncemore the sword, and his eyes bent mockingly and evilly upon his victim.
Kenneth, looking on, could not repress a shudder. He had known Crispinfor a tempestuous man quickly moved to wrath, and he had oftentimes seenanger make terrible his face and glance. But never had he seen aughtin him to rival this present frenzy; it rendered satanical the balefulglance of his eyes and the awful smile of hate and mockery with which hegazed at last upon the helpless quarry that he had waited eighteenyears to bring to earth. "I would," said Crispin, in a harsh, deliberatevoice, "that you had a score of lives, Master Joseph. As it is I havedone what I could. Two agonies have you undergone already, and I aminclined to mercy. The end is at hand. If you have prayers to say, saythem, Master Ashburn, though I doubt me it will be wasted breath--youare over-ripe for hell."
"You mean to kill me," he gasped, growing yet a shade more livid.
"Does the suspicion of it but occur to you?" laughed Crispin, "and yettwice already have I given you a foretaste of death. Think you I butjested?"
Joseph's teeth clicked together in a snap of determination. That sneerof Crispin's acted upon him as a blow--but as a blow that arouses thedesire to retaliate rather than lays low. He braced himself for freshresistance; not of action, for that he realized was futile, but ofargument.
"It is murder that you do," he cried.
"No; it is justice. It has been long on the way, but it has come atlast."
"Bethink you, Mr. Marleigh--"
"Call me not by that name," cried the other harshly, fearfully. "I havenot borne it these eighteen years, and thanks to what you have mademe, it is not meet that I should bear it now." There was a pause. ThenJoseph spoke again with great calm and earnestness.
"Bethink you, Sir Crispin, of what you are about to do. It can benefityou in naught."
"Oddslife, think you it cannot? Think you it will benefit me naught tosee you earn at last your reward?"
"You may have dearly to pay for what at best must prove a fleetingsatisfaction."
"Not a fleeting one, Joseph," he laughed. "But one the memory of whichshall send me rejoicing through what years or days of life be left me. Asatisfaction that for eighteen years I have been waiting to experience;though the moment after it be mine find me stark and cold."
"Sir Crispin, you are in enmity with the Parliament--an outlaw almost. Ihave some influence much influence. By exerting it--"
"Have done, sir!" cried Crispin angrily. "You talk in vain. What tome is life, or aught that life can give? If I have so long endured theburden of it, it has been so that I might draw from it this hour. Do youthink there is any bribe you could offer would turn me from my purpose?"
A groan from Gregory, who was regaining consciousness, drew hisattention aside.
"Truss him up, Kenneth," he commanded, pointing to the recumbentfigure. "How? Do you hesitate? Now, as God lives, I'll be obeyed; or youshall have an unpleasant reminder of the oath you swore me!"
With a look of loathing the lad dropped on his knees to do as he wasbidden. Then of a sudden:
"I have not the means," he announced.
"Fool, does he not wear a sword-belt and a sash? Come, attend to it!"
"Why do you force me to do this?" the lad still protested passionately."You have tricked and cheated me, yet I have kept my oath and renderedyou the assistance you required. They are in your power now, can you notdo the rest yourself?"
"On my soul, Master Stewart, I am over-patient with you! Are we towrangle at every step before you'll take it? I will have your assistancethrough this matter as you swore to give it. Come, truss me that fellow,and have done with words."
His fierceness overthrew the boy's outburst of resistance. Kenneth hadwit enough to see that his mood was not one to brook much opposition,and so, with an oath and a groan, he went to work to pinion Gregory.
Then Joseph spoke again. "Weigh well this act of yours, Sir Crispin,"he cried. "You are still young; much of life lies yet before you. Do notwantonly destroy it by an act that cannot repair the past."
"But it can avenge it, Joseph. As for my life, you destroyed it yearsago. The future has naught to offer me; the present has this." And hedrew back his sword to strike.