CHAPTER XVI
OF THE RETURN OF LORD DOUGLAS, AND THE COUNCIL OF JACKDAWS
"Ah! Woe is me--woe, woe is me!" the youth was crying bitterly. "Tothink that I must forget my home, my generous father, my brothers, andmy dear, kind sister. That I must deny even my good and gentle motherwho bore me into the world and suckled me at her bosom! And here am Igiving her sorrow of my death when I am living! Woe--woe! Better--far,far better that my final act should be the rescuing of one truth out ofthis tissue of black and damning lies! Aye--" he gasped, glaring witheyes wide distended around the room--"an the means were but at hand,I could do it even now! But how I tremble when I but think of it....My hand.... See how it doth shake--palsied with horror of the grislyphantom! Even now," he whispered hoarsely, "I can see them bringing inthe winding sheet. Nay--nay, I dare not! Fear, that doth withhold mycraven arm, doth set his grinning skull at every exit and bid me stay."
Then, throwing himself at full length upon the floor, the youthresigned himself to a fit of tempestuous weeping.
Overwhelmed by a feeling of deepest sympathy for the suffering boy,and oblivious to all things else--his own safety, the safety of deClaverlok--Sir Richard strode back along the passageway, unbarred thesecret door leading into the youth's apartments, and impetuously gavehimself admittance therein.
In another moment the young knight was beside him, and, stooping,touched him lightly upon the shoulder.
"Ah! Lady Anna, ... that you should see me thus," murmured the youthwithout lifting his head from his arms. "They said to me that you weresuffering of an indisposition and would not visit here to-day. Can you,... will you grant me pardon?" he added, sighing deeply.
"Fear not," said Sir Richard gently. "I am come to succor thee, goodyouth."
Softly though the young knight had spoken, at the first sound of hisvoice the youth leapt wild-eyed to his feet. Without uttering a word,and with hands outspread before his face, he moved slowly backwardagainst the wall.
"I pray you, be not afraid, good my youth," said Sir Richardreassuringly. "I can show you now a manner of gaining freedom from yourunhappy imprisonment. A way of winning back to your abandoned home.Come, permit me to be your friend. Let hope smooth away the wrinklesfrom your brow and suffuse your countenance with somewhat of joy.Escape is at hand."
"But what would she say?" the youth whispered, looking in a frightenedmanner toward the door.
"She shall not know," Sir Richard promised.
"Aye--but thou canst keep nothing from her. Nothing! Even she can readthe heavens, and divine the inner workings of a mind. The stars whisperto her their dark secrets--the stars!"
"Nay, prate not thus. I tell you the way is open. This very night youmay be free."
"But I--I cannot leave her, sir knight. I love her. Pity me, ... butleave me. And how didst thou come here?" the youth suddenly added."Saving Lady Anna and the serving-men, thou art the very first to enterwithin these rooms."
Upon gaining the youth's promise to observe an inviolate secrecy, SirRichard explained the manner of his coming. When he had made everythingclear, the boy took his arm and led him beside a desk upon which werescattered many papers.
"Knowest thou what these are, sir knight?" the youth inquired. "Theyare messages to my simple home; messages to my sweet mother; messagesfull of endearing terms and deep regrets; messages signed with mine owntrue and once honest name, Perkin Warbeck; messages which I dare neversend, but write and read; and read again, gaining a sort of comfortfrom the double task. Why must I forswear my good name, sir knight? Iknow not. Why am I here? I know not--what shall become of me; I carenot. I am but a shadow encompassed by flitting shades--a phantom in themidst of phantoms, moving in a fog of mystery. Of all, there is but theone thing potent--my love for Lady Anna. And yet--and yet, sir knight,I fear her. I must remain! Go! Leave me, I entreat of thee, for, bythus tarrying, thou art but fruitlessly imperiling thy life."
Earnestly though Sir Richard tried, he was unable to shake the youth'sdetermination to remain. With much of pity in his heart, the youngknight then took leave of him, retraced his way back through thesecret door and went below. Desiring to take advantage of Lady Anna'stemporary retirement, he secured the final cutting of rope, stole againinto the hall of the griffins' heads, and made everything ready for deClaverlok's escape and his own, which he meant should be brought offthat night.
It was lucky for him that he did so, for, upon that same afternoon,about sundown, there was heard a loud blaring of trumpets from thedirection of the wood. Sir Richard at once hurried to the barbecan,from whence he had a view of Douglas and his company as they camemarching up the slope.
Among their number he noted a knight who was not wearing the Douglascolors. An oddly tall and lean figure of a man he was, encased fromcrown to toe in a suit of black armor. An ebon, horse-hair plumefloated from his closed helmet, of the same somber hue were his mightyhorse and trappings. Sir Richard gathered that he was not a prisoner,for he was riding free.
"Marry, but he makes him a fine brave show!" the young knight mused tohimself, as the Douglas's company started to defile across the loweredbridge.
For three days together the air had been of a bitter coldness, andaccordingly there followed a great scurrying up and down stairs, sothat fires might be set to blazing in every chimney-place. The firstinmate of the castle to be greeted by Douglas when he strode within thegreat hall was Sir Richard. He shook his hand most cordially, leadinghim to the canopied seat beneath the farther pillars, inviting him tobide at his right hand, and engaging him in conversation for quite anhour.
"So the lists are at last prepared," Lord Douglas said, taking up thesubject of the games, which were to begin on the next day. "And weare come in time. 'Twill be the greatest meeting in all Scotland," heboastingly declared, twisting and untwisting the wiry hairs of hisbeard. "The greatest and bravest in all Scotland. My hand on 't,Richard--and here's hoping you come off with a very surfeit of prizes."
Sir Richard was careful to keep well within earshot of Douglas tillthe hour of the banquet. At the same time he maintained a close watchupon the actions of Lightsom. He meant to brook no transformation ofthe fool from his habitual motley to the black. His bells, however,continued all the evening to ring out a merry tune of de Claverlok'sfreedom from immediate peril.
Around the table they all gathered presently, with every one seeming tobe in the happiest of moods. A rare good fortune had evidently attendedthe affairs of the lord of the castle. Few around the board had everseen him so amiable and gracious. Apparently recovered of her illness,Lady Anna, agreeable, captivating, beautiful as any of the maids wovenin arras upon the tapestries behind her, beamed engagingly from heraccustomed seat beside Lord Douglas. Sir Richard remarked the absenceof the knight in black from the bright scene of festivity, which sethim to wondering who and where he was.
"Well, gentlemen, we'll to the council room," commanded Douglas whenthe last morsel had been eaten, the last wassail drunk. He arosethen, stalking majestically from the hall, with the flock of powderedjackdaws following gravely at his spurred and jingling heels.
From the concluding moment of the feast till the time when he foundhis way within the pitch dark gallery of the griffins' heads, SirRichard moved like one in a dream, incidents and people seeming tofloat around him in a filmy, unreal sort of way. He was in a fever toget de Claverlok and be safely launched upon his journey. He took time,however, to stop on his way to the secret exit in a secluded corner ofone of the galleries, where he withdrew from its accustomed place andstole a look at the piece of saffron velvet. He added another to thecountless kisses he had pressed against it, and once again renewed hisvow of unwavering fidelity to the cause of the imprisoned maiden. Therewere reasons for his self accusations of inconstancy. But Sir Richardwas determined upon redeeming himself so soon as might be after he hadaccomplished his escape from Castle Yewe.
The deep tones of the bell on the watch-tower were droning out the hourof midnight when the young knight crept ste
althily within the galleryof the griffins' heads. Feeling carefully along the wall, he countedthe protruding tongues, slid open the panel, and stole noiselessly intothe secret passageway. Away ahead of him squares of light, shining fromthe windows of the council chamber, splashed fantastically againstthe right wall. Every embrasure opening off the youth's room was castin utter darkness. In his mind, Sir Richard could picture him tossingrestlessly upon a sleepless bed, and his heart rebuked him for leavinghim there to fight out his melancholy battle alone. "But I, too," theyoung knight thought, recalling the boy's sad, parting words, "am but aphantom in the midst of phantoms, moving in a fog of mystery."
In spite of his anxiety to have done with the business in hand andbe away, the magnificent scene within the great council hall heldSir Richard fascinated in front of the first window through which hechanced to peer.
In massive silver sconces round about the walls hundreds of candleswere alight. Standing upon a raised dais, Lord Douglas was engaged indelivering an earnest oration. The jackdaws around the table marked hisevery pause with solemn noddings. Viewed as Sir Richard was viewing it,from a great height and through a pane of ruby colored glass, it allappeared grotesquely unreal, weird, and fairylike.
Not a word reached to where he was standing, but the young knightdivined that Douglas must have finished speaking, for the conclave ofjackdaws arose, and, bowing, remained standing beside their chairs.Then, upon Douglas waving his sword, two pages parted the draperiesfrom the wide entrance, and the lean, tall figure of the knight inblack moved in a deliberate and stately manner down the steps.
He was not wearing his casque, and when he had drawn within the fullglare of the multitude of lights every feature of his elongated visagewas set vividly before Sir Richard. He could not repress an exclamationof amazement.
He recognized him to be the mysterious keeper of the RedTavern--Tyrrell.
The young knight was not aware of how long he remained standing besidethe window, with his face pressed close against its ruby pane. Thoughhe did not realize it, the scene then being enacted upon the mosaicfloor far beneath him was one well worth pausing to witness. It wasthe assembling of the nucleus of a wonderful movement, the deep, stillcenter of a wide whirlpool of elaborate conspiracy and action. Fromthose clear brains were emanating invisible wires and arms of steel,which, clutching the individual, thrust him mercilessly and inevitablyahead in the vanguard of the movement. They were not human down there.Each of them was but a cold, bloodless, and calculating automaton.Lives, to them, were like pinches of sand upon blood-slippery lists,serving but to give purchase to the wheels of their tireless juggernaut.
The young knight watched while Douglas seemed to introduce theinn-keeper to the assembled counselors. Tyrrell's voice must have beenuncommonly resonant, for its deep tones came faintly to the ears ofthe observer at the window. It recalled to him the night of the burialof the hound and the war song. The grace of the speaker's sweepinggestures, as he continued his oration to the men around the table,elicited a genuine admiration from Sir Richard. He kept close to thewindow till Tyrrell had finished and gone from the hall.
Though the young knight was unable to link himself or his futurewith the council below, he was sensible of a vague presentiment of asomething portentous to his welfare that seemed to communicate itselfto him through the walls of the chamber. With an inward sense ofcreeping fear he started toward the end of the passageway. He noted thetrembling of his hand as he laid hold of the iron rung of the ladderleading down to de Claverlok's dungeon. He was afraid of the thingsthat he could not understand.
It was therefore with a deep sense of foreboding evil that he loweredhimself to the bottom of the deep well and opened the door of thegrizzled knight's dungeon. Upon that afternoon Sir Richard had apprisedhis friend of his coming, and, saving that he was not wearing hisarmor, de Claverlok was all prepared and waiting for him.
"Put on your suit of mail," said the young knight hurriedly. "I'll helpyou to buckle it fast."
"Eh? But I'm not a giant, Sir Dick, that can wade through the moat withmy nose above the water. Nor, by the rood, can I swim it with a load ofiron upon my back!"
"'Tis solid frozen," Sir Richard said. "We'll walk boldly over."
"And the moon, ... eh?"
"There's no faint hint of it, de Claverlok. Make haste! Things have Iseen that have set me all of a-tremble. It may befall that our waysmust perforce diverge; an it do, I'll meet you so soon as may be withinthe deserted shepherd's hut; ... remember, my friend."
"Have no fear, Sir Dick. We'll not be separated. The moat frozen, ...no moon, ... I tell you, my son, that a good fortune is smiling downupon our little adventure, ... eh!"
"Have you brought everything needful?" Sir Richard inquired, when thegrizzled knight's harness had been adjusted and they were startingupward.
"Everything. Not even a regret have I left within the damned hole, SirDick!"
As they climbed past the floor of the passageway, Sir Richard tooknote of the fact that the lights within the council hall had beenextinguished. Two spots of faint illumination, however, were nowshining from the youth's rooms. "Poor boy, he cannot sleep," the youngknight thought, and passed upward into the yawning flue.
For days he had been pouring oil over the hinges and padlocks of thetrap-door at the top. The bolts yielded noiselessly. Having madeeverything free, Sir Richard set his back against the planks and gavea mighty heave. There followed upon the instant a startled grunt and avoice rumbled strangely above the door.
"Hi, Jock!" it called. "Didst mark any quaking of the castle just then?No? Well, be damned to me, an' I thought to mysel' th' whole moldytower were a-givin' around our ears. Has't a nippie o' sack in thyjerkin, Jock?"
Sir Richard divined that the answer to the guard's question must havebeen a favorable one, for he at once got up from off the trap-door,after which he could hear his heavy steps dwindling in the distancealong the runway.
"'Twould agree passing well with the good fellow's health to drink hima gallon of it," de Claverlok whispered as he stepped out into thenight and unsheathed his sword. "God's sake! Dreaming of a quakingearth were enough to set a man at tipple, ... eh?"
To knot and make the rope secure around the crenelated apex of thetower was but the work of a moment.
"Go!" Sir Richard whispered. "When the rope swings free I'll be afteryou."
Immediately de Claverlok's grizzled head disappeared over the sideof the embattlements. Sir Richard looked down, watching him as hediminished and became swallowed up in the surrounding gloom. He kepta firm grip of the hilt of his blade against the possibility of theguard's inopportune return.
He waited till he thought enough time had elapsed for de Claverlok tohave set his foot upon the frozen moat. He laid his hand upon the rope.It was still taut, and vibrating with the warrior's downward scrambling.
Then, though Sir Richard had heard no sound, a soft arm was suddenlyentwined about his waist. A softer voice was whispering close to hisear.
"Shame upon you, Dick, to requite me thus!" it said. "Are you indeedupon the point of leaving me?"
It was Lady Anna. Warm, bewitching, clad in a silken robe, all open atthe throat, and loose and light and clinging.
"Yea, Lady Anna, I am going. Let loose of me," Sir Richard said.
"But Sir Richard--Dick, dear, I--I love you. A last good-bye, then,"she said, twining her arms more firmly about him. "But why leave me? Itell you truly there an hundred reasons for remaining to one that youshould go. Believe me, ... dear Dick. Stay but a moment and listen."
"By my soul, Lady Anna, unhand me! Much would I regret to tear you fromme by force," whispered Sir Richard between his closed teeth.
"Then ... your lips, first, Dick," she pleaded.
Her two round arms were close about him now. The perfume of her flowinghair was in his nostrils. The breath of her lips was against his.Again it was the Woman against the Man. The Man felt that heaven andearth were rushing together in a glorious combat. The primal in
stinctconquered. The Woman had won.
Followed instantly then the thud of a something falling upon theice-bound moat. The young knight, now freed from Lady Anna's embrace,groped wildly for the rope.
It was gone!
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