The Maid-At-Arms: A Novel

by Robert W. Chambers

  XXII

  THE END OF THE BEGINNING

  Day broke with a thundering roll of drums. Instinctively I stumbled outof bed, dragged on my clothes, and, half awake and half dressed, creptto the open window. The level morning sun blazed on acres of slantingrifles passing; a solid column of Continental infantry, drums and fifesleading, came swinging along the stockade; knapsacks, cross-belts,gaiters, gray with dust; officers riding ahead with naked swords drawn,color-bearers carrying the beautiful new standard, stars shining, redand white stripes stirring lazily in brilliant, silken billows.

  The morning air rang with the gusty music of the fifes, the drums beatsteadily in solid cadence to the long, rippling trample of feet.

  Within the stockade an incessant clamor filled the air; the groundsaround the house were packed with soldiers, some leading out mules, someloading batt-horses, some drawing and carrying water, some formingranks, shouting their numbers for column of fours.

  Sir George Covert's riders of the Legion had halted under my window,rifles slung, helmets strapped; a trumpeter in embroidered jacket sathis horse in front, corded trumpet reversed flat on his thigh.

  Clearing my eyes with unsteady hand, I peered dizzily at the spectaclebelow; my ears rang with the tumult of arrival and departure; and,through the increasing uproar and the thundering rhythm of the drums,memories of the past night flashed up, livid as flames in darkness.

  The endless columns of Continentals were still pouring by the stockade,when, above the dinning drums, I heard my door shaking and a voicecalling me by name.

  "Ormond! Ormond! Open the door, man!"

  With stiff limbs dragging, I made my way to the door and pulled back thebolt. Sir George Covert, in full uniform, sprang in and caught myhands in his.

  "Ormond! Ormond!" he cried, in deep reproach. "Why did you not tell melong since that you loved her? You knew she loved you! What blindviolence have you and Dorothy done yourselves and each other--and me,Ormond!--and yet another very dear to me--with your mad obstinacy andmistaken chivalry!"

  I saw the grave, kind eyes searching mine, I heard his unsteady voice,but I could not respond. An immense fatigue chained mind and tongue;intelligence was there, but the tension had relaxed, and I stood dull,nerveless, my hands limp in his.

  "Ormond," he said, gently, "we ride south in a few moments; you will beleaving for Stillwater in an hour. Gates's left wing is marching onBalston, and news is in by an Oneida runner that Arnold has swept allbefore him; Stanwix is safe; St. Leger routed. Do you understand? Everyman in Tryon County is marching on Burgoyne! You, too, will be on theway towards headquarters within the hour!"

  Trembling from weakness and excitement, I could only look at him insilence.

  "So all is well," he said, gravely, holding my hands tighter. "Do youunderstand? All is well, Ormond.... We struck McCraw at Schell's lastnight and tore him to atoms. We punished the Senecas dreadfully. Wehave cleared the land of the Johnsons, the Butlers, the McDonalds, andthe Mohawks, and now we're concentrating on Burgoyne. Ormond, he is adoomed man! He can never leave this land save as a prisoner!"

  His grip tightened; a smile lighted his careworn face as though a ray ofpure sunshine had struck his eyes.

  "Ormond," he said, "I have bred much mischief among us all, yet with thekindest motives in the world. If honor and modesty forbids anexplanation, at least let me repair what I can. I have given your cousinDorothy her freedom; and now, before I go, I ask your friendship. Nay,give me more--give me joy, Ormond! Man, man, must I speak more plainlystill? Must I name the bravest maid in county Tryon? Must I say that thewoman I love loves me--Magdalen Brant?"

  He laughed like a boy in his excitement. "We wed in Albany on Thursday!Think of it, man! I showed her no mercy, I warrant you, soon as Iwas free!"

  He colored vividly. "Nay, that's ungallant to our Maid-at-Arms," hestammered. "I'm flustered--you will pardon that. She rides with us toAlbany--I mean Magdalen--we wed at my aunt's house--"

  The trumpet of the Legion was sounding persistently; the clatter ofspurred boots filled the hallway; Ruyven burst in, sabre banging, andflung himself into my arms.

  "Good-bye! Good-bye!" he cried. "We are marching with the left wing toBalston. I'll write you, cousin, when we take Burgoyne--I'll write youall about it and exactly how I conducted!"

  I felt the parting clasp of their hands, but scarcely saw them throughthe tears of sheer weakness that filled my eyes. The capacity for deepemotion was deadened in me; the strain had been too great; the reactionhad left me scarcely capable of realizing the instant portent of events.

  The mellow trampling of horses came from below. I hobbled to the windowand looked down where the troopers were riding in fours, falling inbehind a train of artillery which passed jolting and bumping alongthe stockade.

  A young girl, superbly mounted, came galloping by, and behind herspurred Sir George Covert and Ruyven. At full speed she turned her headand looked up at my window, and I think I never saw such radianthappiness in any woman's face as in Magdalen Brant's when she swept pastwith a gesture of adieu and swung her horse out into the road. Ageneral's escort and staff checked their horses to make way for her. Theofficers lifted their black cockaded hats; a slim, boyish officer, in awhite-and-gold uniform, rode forward to receive her, with a low salutethat only a Frenchman could imitate.

  So, escorted by prancing, clattering cavalry, and surrounded by abrilliant staff, Magdalen Brant rode away from Varicks'; and beside her,alert, upright, transfigured, rode Sir George Covert, whose life she hadaccepted only after she had paid her debt to Dorothy by offering her ownlife to rescue mine.

  Dim-eyed, I stared at the passing troops, the blurred colors of theiruniforms ever changing as the regiments succeeded each other, now brownand red, now green and red, now gray and yellow, as Massachusettsinfantry, New York line, and Morgan's Rifles poured steadily by inunbroken columns.

  Wrapped in my chamber-robe, head supported on my hand, I sat by thewindow, dully content, striving to think, to realize all that hadbefallen me. The glitter of the passing rifles, the constantly changinghues and colors, the movement, the noise, set my head swimming. Yet Imust prepare to leave within the hour, for the stable bells were ringingfor eight o'clock.

  Cato scratched at the door and entered, bringing me hot water, andhovering around me with napkin, salve, and basin, till my battered bodyhad been bathed, my face shaved, and my bruised head washed where theSeneca castete had glanced, tearing the skin. Clothed in fresh linen anda new uniform, sent by Schuyler, I bade him call Sir Lupus; who camepresently, his mouth full of toast, a mug of cooled ale in one hand,clay pipe in the other.

  He laid his pipe on the mantel, set his mug on a chair, and embraced me,shaking his head in solemn silence; and we sat for a space, consideringone another, while Cato filled my bowl with chocolate and removed thecover from my smoking porridge-dish.

  "They beat all," said Sir Lupus, at length; "don't they, George?"

  "Do you mean our troops, sir?" I asked.

  "No, sir, I don't. I mean our women."

  He struck his fat leg with his palm, drew a long breath, and regardedme, arms akimbo.

  "Mad, sir; all stark, raving mad! Look at those two chits of girls! TheLegion had gone tearing off after you to Schell's with an Oneida scout;Sir George pops in with his tale of your horrid plight, then pelts offto find his troopers and do what he could to save you. Gad, George! itlooked bad for you. I--I was half out o' my senses, thinking of you; andwhat with the children a-squalling and the household rushing up stairsand down, and the militia marching to the grist-mill bridge, I didnothing. What the devil was I to do? Eh?"

  "You did quite right, sir," I said, gravely.

  He lay back, staring at me, shoving his fat hands into his breechespockets.

  "If I'd known what that baggage o' mine was bent on, I'd ha' locked herin the cellar!... George, you won't hold that against me, will you?She's my own daughter. But the hussy was gone with Magdalen Brant beforeI dreamed of it--gone on the
maddest moonlight quest that mortal everdared conceive!--one in rags cut from a red blanket, t'other in thatrotten old armor that your aunt thought fit to ship from England whenher father stripped the house to cross an ocean and build in the forestsof a new world. George, she's all Ormond, that girl o' mine. A Varickwould never have thought to cut such a caper, I tell you. It isn't inour line; it isn't in Dutch blood to imagine such things, or do'em either!"

  He seized pipe and mug, swearing under his breath.

  "It was the bravest thing I ever knew," I said, huskily.

  He dipped his nose into his mug, pulled at his long pipe, and eyed measkance.

  "What the devil's this between you and Dorothy?" he growled.

  "Nothing, I trust now, sir," I answered, in a low voice.

  "Oh! 'nothing, you trust now, sir!'" he mimicked, striving to turn asour face. "Dammy, d' ye know that I meant her for Sir George Covert?"His broad face softened; he attempted to scowl, and failed utterly."Thank God, the land's clear of these bandits of St. Leger, anyhow!" hesnorted. "I'll work my mills and I'll scrape enough to pay my debts. Isuppose I'll have you on my hands when you've finished with Burgoyne."

  "No," I said, smiling, "the blow that Arnold struck at Stanwix will befelt from Maine to the Florida Keys. The blow to be delivered twentymiles north of us will settle any questions of land confiscation. No,Sir Lupus, I shall not be on your hands, but ... you may be on mine ifyou turn Tory!"

  "You impudent rogue!" he cried, struggling to his feet; then, stillclutching pipe and pewter, he embraced me, and choked and chuckled,laying his fat head on my shoulder. "Be a son to me, George," hewhimpered, sentimentally; "if you won't, you're a damnedungrateful pup!"

  And he took himself off, sniffing, and sucking at his long clay, whichhad gone out.

  I turned to the window, drawing in deep breaths of sweet, pure morningair. Troops were still passing in solid column, grim, dirty soldiers inheavy cowhide knapsacks, leather gaiters, and blue great-coats buttonedback at the skirts; and I heard the militia at the quarters callingacross the stable-yard that these grimy battalions were some ofWashington's veterans, hurried north from West Point by his Excellencyto stiffen the backbone of Lincoln's militia, who prowled, growling andsnarling, around Burgoyne's right flank.

  They were a gaunt, hard-eyed, firm-jawed lot, marching with a peculiarcadence and swing which set all their muskets and buckles glittering atone moment, as though a thousand tiny mirrors had been turned to thelight, then turned away. And, pat! pat! patter! patter! pat! went theirsingle company drums, and their drummers seemed to beat mechanically,without waste of energy, yet with a dry, rattling precision that I hadnever heard save in the old days when the British troops at New Smyrnaor St. Augustine marched out.

  "Good--mornin', sorr," came a hearty and somewhat loud voice from below;and I saw Murphy, Elerson, and Mount, arm in arm, swaggering past withthat saunter that none but a born forest runner may hope to imitate.They were not sober.

  I spoke to them kindly, however, asking them if their wants were fullysupplied; and they acknowledged with enthusiasm that they could desirenothing better than Sir Lupus's buttery ale.

  "Wisha, then, sorr," said Murphy, jerking his thumb towards the sombrecolumn passing, "thim laads is the laads f'r to twisht th' Dootchpigtails on thim Hissians at Half-moon. They do be pigtails on th'Dootch a fut long in the eel-skin. Faith, I saw McCraw's scalp--'twaswan o' Harrod's men tuk it, not I, sorr!--an' 'twas red an' ratty, widnary a lock to lift it, more shame to McCraw!"

  Mount stood, balancing now on his heels, now on his toes, inhaling andexpelling his breath like a man who has had more than a morningdraught of cider.

  He laid his head on one side, like an enormous bird, and regarded mewith a simper, as though lost in admiration.

  "Three cheers for the Colonel," he observed, thickly, and took off hiscap.

  "'Ray!" echoed Elerson, regarding the unsteadiness of Mount's legs withan expression of wonder and pity.

  I bade Mount saddle my mare and prepare to accompany me to headquarters.He saluted amiably; presently they started across the yard for theirquarters, distributing morsels of wisdom and advice among themilitiamen, who stared at them with awe and pointed at their beadedshot--pouches, which were, alas! adorned with fringes of coarse hair,dyed scarlet.

  But Morgan must worry over that. I had other matters to stir me and setmy pulses beating heavily as I walked to the door, opened it, and lookedout into the hallway.

  Children's voices came from the library below; I rested my hand on thebanisters, aiding my stiffened limbs in the descent, and limped downthe stairs.

  Cecile spied me first. She was sitting on the porch with a very, veryyoung ensign of Half-moon militia, watching the passing troops; and shesprang to her feet and threw her arms about my neck, kissing me againand again, a proceeding viewed with concern by the very young ensign ofHalf-moon militia.

  "You darling!" she whispered. "Dorothy's in the library with father andthe children. Lean on me, you poor boy! How you have suffered! And tothink that you loved her all the time! Ah!" she whispered,sentimentally, pressing my arm, "how rare is constancy! How adorable itmust be to be adored!"

  There was a rush of children as we entered, and Cecile cried, "Youlittle beasts, have you no manners?" But they were clinging to me, limband body, and I stood there, caressing them, eyes fixed on my cousinDorothy, who had risen from her chair.

  She was very pale and quiet, and the hand she left in mine seemedlifeless as I bent to kiss it. But, upon the bridal finger, I saw theghost-ring, a thin, rosy band, and I thrilled from head to foot withhappiness unspeakable.

  "Get him a chair, Harry!" said Sir Lupus. "Sit down, George; and whatshall it be, my boy, cold mulled or spiced to cheer you on your journey?Or, as the Glencoe brawlers have it, 'Wha's f'r poonch?'"

  I sank into my chair, saying I desired nothing; and my eyes never leftDorothy, who sat with golden head bent, folding and refolding theruffled corner of her apron, raising her lovely eyes at moments to lookacross at me.

  The morning had turned raw and chilly; a log-fire crackled on thehearth, where Benny had set a row of early harvest apples to sizzle andsteam and perfume the air, the while Dorothy heard Harry, Sammy, andBenny read their morning lessons, so that they might hurry away towatch the passing army of their pet hero, Gates.

  "Come," cried the patroon, "read your lessons and get out, you youngdunces! Now, Sammy!"

  Dorothy looked at me and took up her book.

  "If Amos gives Joseph sixteen apples, and Joseph gives Amanda two timesone half of one half of the apples, how many will Amanda have?" demandedSamuel, with labored breath. "And the true answer to that is six."

  Dorothy nodded and stole a glance at me.

  "That doesn't sound quite right to me," said Sir Lupus, wrinkling hisbrows and counting on his fingers. "Is that the answer, Dorothy?"

  "I don't know," she murmured, eyes fixed on me.

  Sir Lupus glared at Dorothy, then at me. Then he stuffed his pipe fullof tobacco and sat in grim silence while Benny repeated:

  "Theven timeth theven ith theventy-theven; theven timeth eight iththixty-thix." While Dorothy nodded absently and plaited the edges of herlace apron, and looked at me under lowered lashes. And Benny lisped on:"Theven timeth nine ith theventy-thix; theven--"

  "Stop that nonsense!" burst out Sir Lupus. "Take 'em away, Cecile! Take'em out o' my sight!"

  The children, only too delighted to escape, rushed forth with whoops andhoots, demanding to be shown their hero, General Gates. Sir Lupus lookedafter them sardonically.

  "We're a race o' glory--mongers these days," he said. "Gad, I neverthought to see offspring o' mine chasing the drums! Look at 'em now!Ruyven hunting about Tryon County for a Hessian to knock him in thehead; Cecile sitting in rapture with every cornet or ensign who'llnotice her; the children yelling for Lafayette and Washington; Dorothy,here, playing at Donna Quixota, and you starting for Stillwater toteach that fool, Gates, how to catch Burgoyne. Set an a
ss to catch anass--eh, George?--"

  He stopped, his small eyes twinkling with a softer light.

  "I suppose you want me to go," he said.

  We did not reply.

  "Oh, I'm going," he added, fretfully; "I'm no company for a pair o'heroes, a colonel, and--"

  "Touching the colonelcy," I said, "I want to make it plain that I shallrefuse the promotion. I did nothing; the confederacy was split byMagdalen Brant, not by me; I did nothing at Oriskany; I cannotunderstand how General Schuyler should think me deserving of suchpromotion. And I am ashamed to take it when such men as Arnold arepassed over, and such men as Schuyler are slighted--"

  "Folderol! What the devil's this?" bawled Sir Lupus. "Do you think youknow more than your superior officers--hey? You're a colonel, George.Let well enough alone, for if you make a donkey of yourself, they'llmake you a major-general!"

  With a spasmodic effort he got on his feet, seized glass and pipe, andwaddled out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

  In the ringing silence a charred log broke and fell in a shower ofsparks, tincturing the air with the perfume of sweet birch smoke.

  "A STRANGE SHYNESS SEEMED TO HOLD US APART".]

  I rose from my chair. Dorothy rose, too, trembling. A strange shynessseemed to hold us apart. She stood there, the forced smile stamped onher lips, watching me with the fascination of fear; and I steadiedmyself on the arm of my chair, looking deep into her eyes, seeking torecognize in her the child I had known.

  The child had gone, and in her place stood this lovely, silent stranger,with all the mystery of woman-hood in her eyes--that sweet light,exquisitely prophetic, divinely sad.

  "Dorothy," I said, under my breath. "All that is brave and adorable inyou, I love and worship. You have risen so far above me--and I am soweak and--and broken, and unworthy--"

  "I love you," she faltered, her lips scarcely moving. Then the colorsurged over brow and throat; she laid her hands on her hot cheeks; Itook her in my arms, holding her imprisoned. At my touch the color fadedfrom her face, leaving it white as a flower.

  "I fear you--maid spiritual, maid militant--Maid-at-Arms!" I stammered.

  "And I fear you," she murmured, looking at me. "What lover does thewhole world hold like you? What hero can compare with you? And who am Ithat I should take you away from the whole world? Sweetheart, Iam afraid."

  "Then fear no more," I whispered, and bent my head. She raised her paleface; her arms crept up around my neck and tightened, clinging closer asher closing lips met mine.

  There came a tapping at the door, a shuffle of felt-shod feet--

  "Mars' Gawge, suh, yo' hoss done saddle', suh."

  THE END