The Red Tavern

by C. R. Macauley

  CHAPTER VIII

  OF A QUARREL AND A CHALLENGE

  The road through the forest wound steadily upward, and when they hadleft behind them the red moors and braes, the heaving, shimmering sea,they gained no view of the open, and but scant glimpses of the sky,so thickly interwoven were the leafy branches above their heads, tillthey had emerged upon a furzed and brambled down that commanded anuninterrupted prospect for many miles around.

  The scene then spread before them was one of superb grandeur, and wellrepaid them for their march of five hours up the long and tediousslope, of which the point where they were now come marked the extremesummit. The sea had disappeared out of the range of their vision, andin every direction the land dipped away in a myriad of mounds andhills, with splotches of golden gorse dotting their tops and sides,till the last of them was lost in a purple haze that hung above theindefinite, circular rim of the horizon; a fleecy wrack of cloudstossed before the light wind across the deep blue dome of the sky.These, speeding between sun and earth, sent patches of light and shadowin a swift pursuit of each other up and down over the breast of thesweet landscape as though they were playing at some pretty game.

  Here, word passed among the men that they might dismount to baitthemselves and their horses and enjoy a brief period of rest beforeresuming the march. Amidst resounding talk and laughter they clamberedout of their saddles, tethered their steeds where the grass grew mostabundantly, and proceeded to make themselves comfortable, after thecampaigner's fashion, by sprawling at full length upon the velvetyturf in the agreeable warmth of the sun. Meanwhile, serving-men wereaddressing themselves to the work of gathering armfuls of dried hemlocktwigs, building fires over which to warm the pastys, and broachingcasks of stum.

  A bright-faced youth, who had evidently been appointed equerry to SirRichard, approached and signified his readiness to take charge ofthe young knight's horse. Sir Richard dismounted, gave the reins intothe youth's hands, and joined Lord Kennedy, who was leaning against acuriously stunted cedar that grew from the brink of a steep declivitynear at hand. Within his mind, Sir Richard had applied the nicknameof "Taciturnitus" to his silent companion of the morning, and hewas surprised to observe the grim warrior-churchman drinking in theglorious scene with a keen zest of which he had deemed him altogetherincapable. For quite a space they stood side by side, silentlycontemplating the diversified beauties of the landscape that unrolledbefore them from the sky-line to the base of the cliff.

  Here and there, filmy pennants of white smoke, indicating the locationof shepherds' cottages, would fling from behind the masses of foliageupon the farther hillsides. There was but one structure visible,however; a rambling pile of gray stone, shot with a trinity ofembattled towers, which was nestled along the slope of a down, somethree leagues distant from where they were standing.

  "What is that building yonder, my lord?" queried Sir Richard,indicating its location with outstretched hand and finger.

  "That," replied Bishop Kennedy, "is the Black Friar's Monastery. Ourway, sir knight, leads directly beneath its sealed portcullis, which isopened but once in the year, and then only for the purpose of admittingits annual quota of novices. The final glance of the probationer's eyeupon a free earth and heaven embraces this bit bonnie scene. When he isquit of the damp cell and noisome cloister, the crypt, lying within thebelly of the hill, becomes the final repository of his lime-bleachedbones."

  While Bishop Kennedy was talking Sir Richard's attention had beendirected toward a solitary traveler, who was drawing near along theroad that wound around the foot of the cliff and swept over the hillupon which his captors were bivouacing. The pilgrim was mounted upon around-bodied, slow moving and remarkably long-eared donkey, which wasexactly of a color with the rider's voluminous, cowled robe. As he camewithin easy view it could be seen that he was diligently poring oversome sheets of manuscript. It appeared not to annoy the reader in theleast when the donkey stopped, which it did every little while, toscratch its underside with its hind hoof.

  "Well, by my Faith!" exclaimed Bishop Kennedy, with a display ofgenuine enthusiasm upon catching sight of the pilgrim.

  "You know him, my lord?"

  "Yea--that I do, Sir Richard. Upon the round back of yonder ass ridesa scholar, sir knight, whose fame will one day be proclaimed over allthe land. Aye--and whose name shall live when thine and mine havebeen erased along with the epitaphs upon our tombs. Let me crave thyindulgence, and call another to keep thee company, whilst I go forwardto embrace my friend Erasmus."

  "De Claverlok, attend us," he then called to the grizzled knight, whowas sitting beside one of the roaring fires and skilfully balancing apasty above it upon the blade of his halberd.

  De Claverlok quickly gulped down the remainder of the contents of theflagon beside him and came toward the two men wearing a good-naturedsmile, smacking his lips aloud and wiping his beard with the back ofhis broad hand.

  "The wine is to thy liking, I perceive," remarked Bishop Kennedy dryly.

  "Ah!" exclaimed the grizzled veteran heartily, "there's nothing, mymen, that can equal it. Give me drink with the must in 't every blessedday of the year, ... eh!"

  "Thou art ever filled with ardor, de Claverlok, when the meat and drinkare in question," observed Kennedy with a faint trace of a smile. "Butcanst forget thy loves long enough to keep companionship with our guestwhilst I go forward to meet my friend riding below?"

  "Certes will I bear the sir knight company," the grizzled knightinstantly agreed. "And I need not desert my loves in doing so, ... eh,... my boy?"

  Whereupon he led Sir Richard to a seat beside a hastily constructedtable, made of two broad planks set lengthwise above a pair of emptycasks. Over it, fluttering and crackling in the crisp, invigoratingbreeze that blew across the mountain, was stretched an awning of purpleand black, which the young knight took to be a part of the pavilionbeneath which he had been so mysteriously transported, and beneathwhich that morning he had so strangely awakened. The Renegade Duke,with a partially empty tankard at his hand, was already seated beforea steaming pasty. From the violent red of his nose and cheeks it couldeasily be seen that he had been making rather too free with the stum.Besides painting his round face, it had provided him with the fool'scourage to unmask his hatred of Sir Richard, at whom he glared acrossthe improvised table with an open defiance. At first he was careful topreserve a sulky silence, but by the time he had emptied a few moreflagons he grew noisily vociferant, and would likely have opened thequarrel then and there, had it not been for a now and again lustilydelivered nudge of de Claverlok's mailed elbow.

  He was sufficiently himself, however, to relapse into silence whenthe Bishop joined them with his youthful friend, whom he addressedintimately as Gerard, but introduced to the three men as Erasmus.

  The scholar's loose robe did not wholly conceal the angularity ofhis figure. His cheeks, though almost painfully hollow, were touchedwith the olive bronze of winds and weathers. His nose was unusuallyprominent, but cut fine at bridge and nostril. His brow, classicallymoulded, was deep and broad at its base. Altogether, his physiognomywas remarkable for its combination of severe austerity and innategenerosity and kindliness.

  "It would seem," said he, seating himself beside the table betweenBishop Kennedy and Sir Richard, "that the flower of knighthood isgathered here to look upon the flower of Scotland's scenery. I wonder,sir knights, that the restful peace of yonder view does not communicateitself to your martial breasts and render you brothers-in-love of allthe world."

  "Thy business it is to think, dream, and observe, Gerard," said LordKennedy, "and ours to act. The world is yet too imperfect to receivethy teachings, my friend."

  "Yea--that it is," agreed de Claverlok between bites. "With us it'seat, drink, rest betimes, and then away. I'll wager, though, our gearsits lighter on our shoulders than your robe, ... eh?"

  "Right readily do I grant you that, sir knight," returned Erasmussmilingly. "This robe, in truth, is one of the heaviest of my burdens.There would be many
a naked back, my lord," he added gravely, turningtoward Bishop Kennedy, "an the robe were to be stripped from everybigoted hypocrite. It grieves me to admit my belief that steel girdedbreasts are uniformly more steadfast to their principles than thoseenveloped within the robe and cowl."

  Thus, during the hour of eating, Erasmus held Lord Kennedy and SirRichard enthralled with the charm and compelling influence of hiscolloquy, in the course of which he explained to them that he was thenjourneying from a monastery at Stein to enter the services of theArchbishop of Cambray, and that later it was a part of his plan to goon to Paris, where he intended pursuing his studies under the continuedpatronage of his amiable and generous master.

  Had the scholar touched at all upon the subject of battles, or ofdeeds of martial gallantry, it is possible that he might again haveenticed de Claverlok to give ear. But as it was, that bluff warrioryielded himself in his most heartywise to the business of devastatingthe remainder of the pasty before him, and maintaining a constantvoid within the pewter flagon beside his plate. As for the RenegadeDuke, Sir Richard noted that his vapid smile had resolved itself intosomething approaching a drunken leer, and that beneath his vain twaddlethere ran a distinct undercurrent of thinly veiled sarcasm. It grewapparent that he was striving desperately to mask his quarrel withthe young knight from the understanding of Lord Kennedy. In this SirRichard was assisting him to his uttermost. Some time before he hadconceived the idea that a quarrel and subsequent duel, which he hopedthat his blatant guard might secretly arrange, would provide a likelymeans of escape.

  That their combined efforts were unfruitful of misleading the shrewdBishop was soon made apparent; for, before leaving from beneath theawning with Erasmus, he took the grizzled knight aside, talkingearnestly with him for several minutes.

  "I am but going to make Erasmus acquainted with some of our famousfellows," he was explaining to de Claverlok, "and shall soon return.Above all things, Sir Lionel," he warned in a whisper, "keep a closeeye on the Knight of the Double Rook. Before we came to yonder tableI had disquieting news from the scholar from Bannockburn way. Douglasis arming to oppose us, and planning to invade England for a purposesimilar with ours. I fear me that he is familiar with every happeningwithin our camp, and doubts have arisen within me as to the RenegadeDuke's integrity to our cause. An I am not mistaken, there is a planafoot to defeat our purpose of delivering the young noble within ournorthern stronghold. There's something mightily wrong, de Claverlok.Not a breath have I heard from our captive regarding the King's warranttaken from his pouch by Sir James; and yet is he as eager as anunhooded falcon to escape and fare away upon his journey. How it wouldboot him to go on, I cannot make out. Remember, sir knight," BishopKennedy concluded sternly, "that henceforth thou art held responsiblefor the youth's safe detention; ... by thy knightly oath do we holdthee."

  "Aye, my lord," was the extent of de Claverlok's reply, though his toneand manner indicated his determination to be faithful to the trustimposed upon him.

  While the three men were seated beneath the awning awaiting LordKennedy's return they espied along the road, which wound like a tawnyworm beneath the portcullis of the Black Friar's Monastery, a singlehorseman careering swiftly in the direction of the hill upon whichthey were stationed. As the rider drew nearer, they could see theglint of the sun's rays upon the burnished trappings of man and horse.Without exchanging a speculative word, their glances followed him tillhe disappeared at a point where the ochre road was swallowed up in apatch of brilliantly colored gorse. He had likewise been sighted fromelsewhere upon the mountain top, for a band of horsemen sallied downfrom the place of the bivouac and met him precisely at the spot wherehe again issued into view from behind the bushes. Then, wheeling, theybore him company up the declivitous road. Coincident with their meetingwith the men awaiting them above there was a loud shouting of "Douglas!False Douglas, the traitor!" Whereupon Lord Kennedy could be seenstriding among them, a trumpeter winded a blast "To horse," and then,amidst a frenzied waving of pennoned lances, the hitherto quiet scenebecame alive with the scurrying of mailed feet, the noise of creakingsaddle girths, the hoarse cries of men, and the loud neighing of horses.

  Sir Richard, unable to interpret the meaning of this sudden warlikedemonstration, and wondering much at the use of the name of Douglas,regarded it in the light of a most opportune happening. For one thing,it had rid him temporarily of the presence of de Claverlok, who wasswinging furiously down the slope bellowing aloud for the Duke's horse,for Sir Richard's, and his own. The young knight at once availedhimself of the opportunity of resuming his quarrel with the RenegadeDuke; and, as he regarded him scornfully across the board, thatindividual arose and bowed low before him. In despite of Sir Richard'saversion toward the man, he was obliged to pay tribute within his mindto his singular grace and perfect assurance.

  "Why all this mock courtesy," said the young knight quietly, arisingalso to his feet, "when your blade, my brave Duke, dangles so near toyour hand?"

  The Renegade Duke stole a glance behind him down the hill, and smiledinsolently, coolly, delaying thus his answer for a considerable space.

  "The battle-ax, or mace, sir knight," he said then, "would better suitour deadly purposes." He was not above looking to the advantages of hissuperior weight in offering this suggestion. Moreover, horsemanshipplayed an important part in this kind of warfare, and the Duke was saidto be a master horseman. "Yet----" he added the word and then pausedreflectively.

  "Yet what?" returned Sir Richard. "Out with it ere de Claverlok returnto thwart the perfecting of our arrangements."

  "Yet--" repeated the Duke slowly, again looking behind him down thehill, his lips still raised from off his teeth in a maddening smile, "Idislike me much to remove the single champion of a maiden in distress.Would you not consent to grant to me the legacy of effecting the fairone's release?"

  The violence of Sir Richard's anger, scattering every vestige ofprudence to the winds, might easily have resulted in defeating his welllaid plan to escape. For, no sooner had the Duke finished, than theyoung knight found himself standing with his emptied tankard in hishand, while his enemy, with a diaphanous lace kerchief, was daintilywiping the dregs from it off his face. The fact that he missed adrop of the wine, which remained hanging from one of the ridiculouspoints of his upturned mustachios, sent Sir Richard into a paroxysm oflaughter.

  "An it comes to the question of a legacy, Renegade Duke," he stifledhis merriment sufficiently to answer, "I shall do my mightiest to haveit from you to me. An I make no mistake, my fine fellow, I shall gainthe missive you have pilfered before the day is done."

  While Sir Richard was speaking, de Claverlok was seen to be approachingat a swift gallop with their horses.

  "Till we meet," returned the Duke quickly, "it shall again be yours.When your bonnet was being burnished this morning it rolled from outthe fillet to the pavilion floor." Whereupon, having explained hispossession of the note, he tossed the bit of paper before Sir Richardupon the table. Then, as de Claverlok drew rein and called aloud forthem to mount--"Which shall it be," he whispered, "mace, battle-ax, orsword?"

  "Battle-axes, at cock-shut time," Sir Richard hastily answered, movingin the direction of his waiting horse.

  "Battle-axes at cock-shut time," repeated the Duke. Then, with asweeping bow, he held the young knight's stirrup for him to mount."Battle-axes at cock-shut time," he said again. "Thou hast laid acommand upon me, ... Liege!" he added, with the last word hissed low inSir Richard's ear as he vaulted lightly past him into his saddle.

  "Liege?" thought the young knight to himself as he rode onward downthe road beside de Claverlok. "Why all these ceremonious bows? Thiscalling of me a _noble_ knight? This strange captivity? Why shouldI--I, Richard Rohan, knight, and lowly messenger of the King be thuscurtseyed to and addressed? And what mean these subdued mutteringsamong the men of 'A traitor in camp,' 'Douglas playing false andarming,' 'Tyrrell outmaneuvered'? Fates defend me. I had liefer set mylance against the Dragon of Wantley than make an at
tempt to unravel thedeep mysteries by which I am this moment surrounded."