CHAPTER V
THE INCIDENT OF THE CUTTING OF SAFFRON VELVET
The walls of the room adjoining that in which Sir Richard was nowsleeping framed a scene that provided a singular and pleasing contrastto the bleak and uninviting rooms within the tavern with which thereader is already somewhat familiar. So beautifully, and in suchexquisite taste were its rich trappings disposed, that a princess mighthave found comfort and contentment within its cosy precincts. Indeed,not anything seemed to be missing that could have been demanded in thesurroundings of the most refined and fastidious of royal personages.
Upon one of the pillowed couches two young maidens were reclininggracefully at their ease. One was lying at full length and resting uponher elbows, with her chin pressed against her interlocked fingers; theother was engaged with needles and some bright colored silk in weavinga design upon a piece of linen cloth. Without risking hyperbole it maybe said of them that the jewels they wore were scarce an adornment totheir distinguished setting, for it would have offered a difficult taskto have set out to discover two lovelier types of young womanhood. Itwas unusual in that between them there existed no conflict of beauty;rather did the bewitching charms of the one serve the complimentarypurpose of enhancing the pure and almost ethereal comeliness of theother.
"It would surely be a famous prank, Rocelia," said the one who waslounging upon her elbows. "I cannot understand why you should opposeme. Are we not come to an age, my over-discreet cousin, where achampion should be ours by right?"
"By right of what, pray, madcap Isabel?" queried Rocelia, laying asideher needlework upon a table that stood near the couch.
"Why--by right of conquest, little dunce," returned Isabel with agay laugh. "Here does my stern guardian--and by the same token yourimplacable father--see fit to keep us mewed within this dismal,fly-by-night prison, deprived of every pleasure and innocent pastimethat other maids, similarly stationed, are permitted to enjoy. I tellyou, sweet Rocelia, 'tis nothing less than downright cruel."
"Say not so, ungracious maid," observed Rocelia in mild disapproval."Are we not surrounded with everything, my dear, that heart of maidcould wish?"
"Everything, say you? Why--far, far from everything," demurred Isabel,tossing back a strand of raven black hair that persisted in strayingover her shoulder. "A champion! Give to me a champion!" she cried witha mock seriousness, raising on high her right arm, from which herloose robe fell, displaying a dazzling array of captivating curves anddimples.
Rocelia smiled in a gentle toleration of the other's extravagance ofmanner.
"Your wondrous beauty, my dear cousin," she said, "will win for you achampion all in good time."
"Time?" retorted Isabel, gathering her lips in a pretty pout andarching her brows. "Time, say you? And what, I pray you, have _we_ todo with time? Does not time fade and wither that beauty by which, buta moment ago, you have recommended to me a champion? Is not time ourmortal and deadly foe?"
"Too much of it, mayhap, would be," admitted Rocelia; "but a littleof it should serve well in rounding out our minds, and in providingus with that sane discretion which, as you remember, Lord BishopKennedy, our kind tutor, has taught us is the most precious of earthlyperquisites."
"Bah! a murrain upon Bishop Kennedy and his dry pedantries. An I hadthat old prate-apace inside an oven, right well would I warm hisicy blood for him. Look not upon me, sweet coz, with such wideopeneyes of ravished virtue! I declare to you, Rocelia, I'll have me achampion--and before this very night is over. You could never divine,I'm sure, why I begged you awhile ago to sing without yon open window.Of a truth, you knew not, or your voice would never have left yourthroat. It was vicariously to beguile my brave champion's ears that youwere singing so sweetly, dear. He was then outside with your father andZenas burying the hound. Ah! you should have seen him fell the savagebrute, Rocelia. A single mighty blow of his mailed fist and 'twas allover."
"Were you not afraid? 'Twould have fared ill with you, an Father hadseen you standing at the tap-room door."
"Nay--I was not afraid. Your father was in another room with the men.Zenas had gone outside. I heard him go muttering through the door asI crept softly down the steps. I peeped through the split panel--mychampion was there ... sleeping. But, already have I told you thestory. Ah! how brave was he. Not once did he flinch the battle, or lookabout him, or call for help. And he is handsome; marry, sweet coz, buthe is handsome! All girded up in shining, inlaid armor. His brown-goldhair flowing almost to his shoulders. His health-bronzed cheeks smoothand shapely. And his mouth! Um-m-m! Well----"
"Why, cousin! some wicked witch has cast a spell above you, I fear."
"Nay--'tis not witchery, sweetest Rocelia," said Isabel, seatingherself beside her fair-haired cousin and lovingly entwining her armsabout her slender form. "I am but filled to overflowing with the joyof living. A something of excitement is both sup and drink to me. Nowlisten. Bear with your madcap cousin whilst she discourses with you indeepest earnest. A champion I must and will have. But he need not knowme, or even look upon my face."
"I cannot understand. You are speaking in riddles, Isabel."
"Nay, give ear till I've finished and you shall see it plain enough.My knight of the brown-gold curls, an I mistake me not, is even atthis moment slumbering within the next chamber. With a bodkin a cleftin the wall can be used as a slight avenue of secret communication.Then a missive, and a bit of cloth clipped from my--no yours, 'tis ofa more enticing color--your saffron gown, I'll say, dear cousin; andthus I have my champion and no soul but you and I the wiser. Do not sayme nay, good, generous Rocelia. It will be a right merry and harmlessfrolic, think you not?"
"'Twould be a sorry one for you, I fear, an my father found you out,"replied Rocelia, half in jest, half earnestly.
"Enough. Let the hazard be mine, sweet. And now to business. WhilstI am at work with the bodkin, do you shear me a strip from off yoursaffron velvet kirtle."
* * * * *
Sir Richard, sleeping soundly, was all unconscious of the widelyvarying activities of which he was now become the center. Beneath theroom in which Isabel, now singing, now laughing, was engaged uponthe wall, Friar Diomed had finished brewing and mixing the herbs andchemicals of his narcotic.
"My oath on 't, Friar Diomed," Tyrrell was saying from his seat besidethe fire, "your cloth shall not save your shaven pate, an this potionbring one jot of harm to the young noble."
"An it be administered with your usual skill and caution, Sir James,"returned the monk, elevating a phial filled with the liquid betweenhis squinting eyes and the light of the fire, "'twill bring no moreharm than so much _aqua pura_. But, by my church! 'tis beside myunderstanding why you must observe all of these dark ceremonies. Letthe young knight but read the King's warrant in his slop pouch, an hewere a long-eared ass not to embrace our cause."
"Have I not already said, my stupid friend, that he would at oncecharge us with substitution and false writing? Think you not that theyoung noble hath heard a many an evil tale of this tavern along theway? Marry, an he had not, all our trouble and precaution to shieldthe young prince from discovery and harm would have been but ofslight avail. But only once again, good friar, need this phantom inndisappear, and then 'twill serve as a blazing torch to light the startof our movement southward."
"Pity 'tis that the young prince died," observed the monk, giving thephial into Tyrrell's hand and standing with his broad back to theblaze. "And just at the point, too, when you had gathered a sufficientpower to hurl effectively against Henry. So fire shall consume ourrefuge, you say? Well, Sir James, _ab igne ignem_, say I."
"Yea, and I. But regarding the young prince, regret not that whichis beyond mending. In truth, Friar Diomed, I like this young Earlof Warwick mightily. He's a right goodly youth to look upon, andbrave--aye, as fearless as a lion cub. Nay--let us not regret, butrather return thanks to a generous God for having thus dropped downupon us a proper and legal substitute."
"An you'll be good enough
to bid Zenas to bring out the flagons, SirJames, I'll e'en now down a measure or twain to the health of thenew. Which is more to my liking, by my Faith, than the uplifting ofmere dry thanks. _Ad majorem Dei gloriam!_ 'Twill be a good hour erede Claverlok and his band return, and I am grievously athirst and,ah-ha-ha, ho-e-e, sleepy."
"Then why not call your drink night-cup and betake yourself to yourcouch? 'Tis not necessary that you should remain abroad to await theircoming. Zenas, the flagon of wine," Tyrrell then called. "Drink, and toyour rest, my good friar. Yea--the blessed pair of you."
Whereupon, with a loud smacking of his lips, the rotund friarintroduced his red and bulbous nose within his tipped cup and made forhis couch. Zenas followed him, leaving Tyrrell to keep solitary vigilby the side of the crackling fire, and all unaware of the little comedywhich, at that very moment, was being enacted above his head.
* * * * *
For the second time that night Sir Richard awakened with a violentstart. Upon doing so he raised his head from off his pillow. Hearing nosound, however, he attributed this second awakening to a fanciful dreamof a ponderous battle-ax striking upon his helm, and had just composedhimself for the purpose of resuming his interrupted rest when he becameaware of a distinct rapping upon the headboard of his bed. As he threwaside the covering and sat erect the strange tapping ceased. With everysense upon the alert he listened for a repetition of the sound. It camesoon again, distinct, deliberate, unmistakable. He passed his handcarefully over the smooth headboard, but went altogether unrewarded forhis pains. Concluding, therefore, that the sounds emanated from betweenthe wall and the bed, he sprang to the floor and pulled aside the heavypiece of furniture.
The inexplicable rapping was then followed by a dry, scraping noise,which seemed almost impossible to locate. The room being cast in utterdarkness, his sense of touch was required to answer for his uselesssense of sight. In the passing of his hand along the wall it met witha slight protuberance. This he instantly grasped, and a part of itcame away within his clutched fingers. He discovered it to be a wispof paper, neatly rolled, and surmised it to be a written message. Bythe side of the basin upon the floor he found tinder, flint, and steel.Contriving speedily to have a light, he thereupon read the followingmessage:
"Whoever or whatever thou art, an semblance of heart of man beats within thy brave bosom, rescue a maiden from a living death."
This was the message from Isabel. She had been careful to sign no name,and Sir Richard had no means of knowing by whom it had been inscribed.But, even so, he was entirely equal to the occasion, and felt his heartleaping in deepest sympathy with the unknown maiden in distress. So,then and there, upon the cross of his sword, he made a sacred vow toadventure her rescue, repeating in a solemn manner the usual form ofoath: "So may God and St. George prosper me at my need, as I will domy devoir as thy champion, fair maid, knightly, truly, and manfully."
This ceremony concluded, he hurried again to the wall. Protruding froma narrow aperture in the mortar he noted a thin piece of steel, suchas he fancied was used by women in the shaping of their apparel. Uponwithdrawing it, he discovered it to be of about a length with hisforearm.
Then, placing his lips to the opening thus disclosed, "Courage, fairmaiden," he whispered. "An wilt thou grant the boon of sending a mostwilling champion thy colors?"
"Yea, gladly," came back the answer, sweet and low; "and a kiss, too,my brave knight."
"Ye gods of Love!" exclaimed Sir Richard beneath his breath. "The veryyearnings of Tantalus are at this moment put to the blush! Was ever achampion avowed under like romantic circumstances? Was ever a maidenwooed through a two-foot, key-cold wall?"
He then sent the pliant steel back through the wall, which heerroneously supposed to be constructed out of solid stone. In anothermoment there came to his impatiently waiting hand a very small cuttingof saffron velvet, the which he touched reverently to his lips, as wasbecoming in a loyal champion, and then placed devoutly next his heart.
He whispered again, and again he whispered, but no answer came.Observing the precaution of scraping away a bit of mortar from anotherwall, he carefully concealed the opening. Upon which he replaced thebed in its former position, secured the note within the fillet of hishelmet and once more sought his pillow, where he fell asleep presentlyin the midst of meditating as to the means through which he might, insafety to her, effect the deliverance of the fair unknown.
Yet not half so fair, nor yet half so lovely, was the vision that hematerialized from the scrap of saffron velvet as was its beautifulowner, whom an unkind Fate decreed he should not set eyes upon tillmany days crowded with many misadventures had passed away.
The Red Tavern Page 7
