The Dragon of Wantley: His Tale

by Owen Wister

  CHAPTER IX

  Leaues much Room for guessing about Ch. X

  As they proceeded towards the bear-pit, having some distance to go,good-humour and benevolence began to rise up in the heart of SirGodfrey.

  "This is a great thing!" he said to Miss Elaine. "Ha! an important andjoyful occurrence. The news of it will fly far."

  "Yes," the young lady replied, but without enthusiasm. "The cattlewill be safe now."

  "The cattle, child! my Burgundy! Think of that!"

  "Yes, papa."

  "The people will come," continued the Baron, "from all sidesto-morrow--why, it's to-morrow now!" he cried. "From all sides theywill come to my house to see my Dragon. And I shall permit them to seehim. They shall see him cooked alive, if they wish. It is a veryproper curiosity. The brute had a wide reputation."

  To hear himself spoken of in the past tense, as we speak of the dead,was not pleasant to Sir Francis, walking behind Geoffrey on all fours.

  "I shall send for Father Anselm and his monks," the Baron went on.

  Hearing this Geoffrey started.

  "What need have we of them, sir?" he inquired. To send for FatherAnselm! It was getting worse and worse.

  "Need of Father Anselm?" repeated Sir Godfrey. "Of course I shall needhim. I want the parson to tell me how he came to change his mind andlet you out."

  "Oh, to be sure," said Geoffrey, mechanically. His thoughts werereeling helplessly together, with no one thing uppermost.

  "Not that I disapprove it. I have changed my own mind upon occasions.But 'twas sudden, after his bundle of sagacity about Crusades andvisions of my ancestor and what not over there in the morning. Ha! ha!These clericals are no more consistent than another person. I'llnever let the Father forget this." And the Baron chuckled. "Besides,"he said, "'tis suitable that these monks should be present at theburning. This Dragon was a curse, and curses are somewhat of a churchmatter."

  "True," said Geoffrey, for lack of a better reply.

  "Why, bless my soul!" shouted the Baron, suddenly wheeling round toElaine at his side, so that the cowslip wine splashed out of thebucket he carried, "it's my girl's wedding-day too! I had cleanforgot. Bless my soul!"

  "Y--yes, papa," faltered Elaine.

  "And you, young fellow!" her father called out to Geoffrey with lustyheartiness. "You're a lucky rogue, sir."

  "Yes, sir," said Geoffrey, but not gayly. He was wondering how it feltto be going mad. Amid his whirling thoughts burned the one longing tohide Elaine safe in his arms and tell her it would all come rightsomehow. A silence fell on the group as they walked. Even to theBaron, who was not a close observer, the present reticence of thesetwo newly-betrothed lovers was apparent. He looked from one to theother, but in the face of neither could he see beaming any of the softtransports which he considered were traditionally appropriate to thehour. "Umph!" he exclaimed; "it was never like this in my day." Thenhis thoughts went back some forty years, and his eyes mellowed fromwithin.

  "We'll cook the Dragon first," continued the old gentleman, "and then,sir, you and my girl shall be married. Ha! ha! a great day forWantley!" The Baron swung his bucket, and another jet of its contentsslid out. He was growing more and more delighted with himself and hisdaughter and her lover and everybody in the world. "And you're a stoutrogue, too, sir," he said. "Built near as well as an Englishman, Ithink. And that's an excellent thing in a husband."

  The Baron continued to talk, now and then almost falling in the snow,but not permitting such slight mishaps to interrupt his discourse,which was addressed to nobody and had a general nature, touching upondragons, marriages, Crusades, and Burgundy. Could he have seenGeoffrey's more and more woe-begone and distracted expression, hewould have concluded his future son-in-law was suffering from somesudden and momentous bodily ill.

  The young man drew near the Dragon. "What shall we do?" he said in awhisper. "Can I steal the keys of the pit? Can we say the Dragonescaped?" The words came in nervous haste, wholly unlike the bolddeliberateness with which the youth usually spoke. It was plain he wasat the end of his wits.

  "Why, what ails thee?" inquired Sir Francis in a calm and unmovedvoice. "This is a simple matter."

  His tone was so quiet that Geoffrey stared in amazement.

  "But yonder pit!" he said. "We are ruined!"

  "Not at all," Sir Francis replied. "Truly thou art a deep thinker!First a woman and now thine enemy has to assist thy distress."

  He put so much hatred and scorn into his tones that Geoffrey flamedup. "Take care!" he muttered angrily.

  "That's right!" the prisoner said, laughing dryly. "Draw thy swordand split our secret open. It will be a fine wedding-day thou'lt havethen. Our way out of this is plain enough. Did not the Baron say thatFather Anselm was to be present at the burning? He shall be present."

  "Yes," said the youth. "But how to get out of the pit? And how canthere be a dragon to burn if thou art to be Father Anselm? Andhow----" he stopped.

  "I am full of pity for thy brains," said Sir Francis.

  "Here's the pit!" said the voice of Sir Godfrey. "Bring him along."

  "Hark!" said Sir Francis to Geoffrey. "Thou must go to Oyster-le-Mainwith a message. Darest thou go alone?"

  "If I dare?" retorted Geoffrey, proudly.

  "It is well. Come to the pit when the Baron is safe in the house."

  Now they were at the iron door. Here the ground was on a level withthe bottom of the pit, but sloped steeply up to the top of its wallselsewhere, so that one could look down inside. The Baron unlocked thedoor and entered with his cowslip wine, which (not being a verypotent decoction) began to be covered with threads of ice as soon asit was set down. The night was growing more bitter as its frosty hourswore on; for the storm was departed, and the wind fallen to silence,and the immense sky clean and cold with the shivering glitter of thestars.

  Then Geoffrey led the Dragon into the pit. This was a rude anddesolate hole, and its furniture of that extreme simplicity common tobear-pits in those barbarous times. From the middle of the stone floorrose the trunk of a tree, ragged with lopped boughs and at its topforking into sundry limbs possible to sit among. An iron trough wasthere near a heap of stale greasy straw, and both were shapeless whitelumps beneath the snow. The chiselled and cemented walls rose round ina circle and showed no crevice for the nails of either man or bear toclimb by. Many times had Orlando Crumb and Furioso Bun observed thiswith sadness, and now Sir Francis observed it also. He took into hischest a big swallow of air, and drove it out again between his teethwith a weary hissing.

  "I will return at once," Geoffrey whispered as he was leaving.

  Then the door was shut to, and Sir Francis heard the lock grinding asthe key was turned. Then he heard the Baron speaking to Geoffrey.

  "I shall take this key away," he said; "there's no telling whatwandering fool might let the monster out. And now there's but littletime before dawn. Elaine, child, go to your bed. This excitement hasplainly tired you. I cannot have my girl look like that when she's abride to-day. And you too, sir," he added, surveying Geoffrey, "look atrifle out of sorts. Well, I am not surprised. A dragon is no joke.Come to my study." And he took Geoffrey's arm.

  "Oh, no!" said the youth. "I cannot. I--I must change my dress."

  "Pooh, sir! I shall send to the tavern for your kit. Come to my study.You are pale. We'll have a little something hot. Aha! Something hot!"

  "But I think----" Geoffrey began.

  "Tush!" said the Baron. "You shall help me with the weddinginvitations."

  Sir Francis decideth to go down agayne]

  "Sir!" said Geoffrey haughtily, "I know nothing of writing and suchlow habits."

  "Why no more do I, of course," replied Sir Godfrey; "nor would Isuspect you or any good gentleman of the practice, though I have mademy mark upon an indenture in the presence of witnesses."

  "A man may do that with propriety," assented the youth. "But I cannotcome with you now, sir. 'Tis not possible."
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  "But I say that you shall!" cried the Baron in high good-humour. "Ican mull Malvoisie famously, and will presently do so for you. 'Tis tohelp me seal the invitations that I want you. My Chaplain shall writethem. Come."

  He locked Geoffrey's arm in his own, and strode quickly forward.Feeling himself dragged away, Geoffrey turned his head despairinglyback towards the pit.

  "Oh, he's safe enough in there," said Sir Godfrey. "No need to watchhim."

  Sir Francis had listened to this conversation with rising dismay. Andnow he quickly threw off the crocodile hide and climbed up the tree asthe bears had often done before him. It came almost to a level withthe wall's rim, but the radius was too great a distance for jumping.

  "I should break my leg," he said, and came down the tree again, as thebears had likewise often descended.

  The others were now inside the house. Elaine with a sinking heartretired to her room, and her father after summoning the Rev. Hucbaldtook Geoffrey into his study. The Chaplain followed with a bunch ofgoose-quills and a large ink-horn, and seated himself at a table,while the Baron mixed some savoury stuff, going down his privatestaircase into the buttery to get the spice and honey necessary.

  "Here's to the health of all, and luck to-day," said the Baron; andGeoffrey would have been quite happy if an earthquake had come andaltered all plans for the morning. Still he went through the form ofclinking goblets. But his heart ached, and his eyes grew hot as he satdismal and lonely away from his girl.

  "Whom shall we ask to the wedding?" queried the Rev. Hucbald, rubbinghis hands and looking at the pitcher in which Sir Godfrey had mixedthe beverage.

  "Ask the whole county," said Sir Godfrey. "The more the merrier. Myboy Roland will be here to-morrow. He'll find his sister has got aheadof him. Have some," he added, holding the pitcher to the Rev. Hucbald.

  "I do believe I will take just a little sip," returned the divine."Thanks! ah--most delicious, Baron! A marriage on Christmas Day," headded, "is--ahem!--highly irregular. But under the unusual, indeed thetruly remarkable, circumstances, I make no doubt that the Pope----"

  "Drat him!" said Sir Godfrey; at which the Chaplain smiledreproachfully, and shook a long transparent taper finger at hispatron in a very playful manner, saying, "Baron! now, Baron!"

  "My boy Roland's learning to be a knight over at my uncle Mortmain's,"continued Sir Godfrey, pouring Geoffrey another goblet. "You'll likehim."

  But Geoffrey's thoughts were breeding more anxiety in him everymoment.

  "I'll get the sealing-wax," observed the Baron, and went to a cabinet.

  "This room is stifling," cried Geoffrey. "I shall burst soon, Ithink."

  "It's my mulled Malvoisie you're not accustomed to," Sir Godfrey said,as he rummaged in the cabinet. "Open the window and get some freshair, my lad. Now where the deuce is my family seal?"

  As Geoffrey opened the window, a soft piece of snow flew through theair and dropped lightly on his foot. He looked quickly and perceived aman's shadow jutting into the moonlight from an angle in the wall.Immediately he plunged out through the casement, which was not veryhigh.

  "Merciful powers!" said the Rev. Hucbald, letting fall his quill andspoiling the first invitation, "what an impulsive young man! Why, hehas run clean round the corner."

  "'Tis all my Malvoisie," said the Baron, hugely delighted, andhurrying to the window. "Come back when you're sober!" he shoutedafter Geoffrey with much mirth. Then he shut the window.

  "These French heads never can weather English brews," he remarked tothe Chaplain. "But I'll train the boy in time. He is a rare good lad.Now, to work."

  Out in the snow, Geoffrey with his sword drawn came upon Hubert.

  "Thou mayest sheathe that knife," said the latter.

  "And be thy quarry?" retorted Geoffrey.

  "I have come too late for that!" Hubert answered.

  "Thou hast been to the bear-pit, then?"

  "Oh, aye!"

  "There's big quarry there!" observed Geoffrey, tauntingly. "Quite aroyal bird."

  "So royal the male hawk could not bring it down by himself, I hear,"Hubert replied. "Nay, there's no use in waxing wroth, friend! Mydeath now would clap thee in a tighter puzzle than thou art inalready--and I should be able to laugh down at thee from a betterworld," he added, mimicking the priestly cadence, and looking atGeoffrey half fierce and half laughing.

  He was but an apprentice at robbery and violence, and in the bottom ofhis heart, where some honesty still was, he liked Geoffrey well. "Timepresses," he continued. "I must go. One thing thou must do. Let notthat pit be opened till the monks of Oyster-le-Main come here. Weshall come before noon."

  "I do not understand," said Geoffrey.

  Brother Hvbert goeth back to Oyster-le-Main for yelast Time]

  "That's unimportant," answered Hubert. "Only play thy part. 'Tis asimple thing to keep a door shut. Fail, and the whole of us areundone. Farewell."

  "Nay, this is some foul trick," Geoffrey declared, and laid his handon Hubert.

  But the other shook his head sadly. "Dost suppose," he said, "that weshould have abstained from any trick that's known to the accumulatedwisdom of man? Our sport is up."

  "'Tis true," Geoffrey said, musingly, "we hold all of you in thehollow of one hand."

  "Thou canst make a present of us to the hangman in twenty minutes ifthou choosest," said Hubert.

  "Though 'twould put me in quite as evil case."

  "Ho! what's the loss of a woman compared with death?" Hubertexclaimed.

  "Thou'lt know some day," the young knight said, eying Hubert with acertain pity; "that is, if ever thou art lucky to love truly."

  "And is it so much as that?" murmured Hubert wistfully. "'Twas goodfortune for thee and thy sweetheart I did not return to look for mymaster while he was being taken to the pit," he continued; "we couldhave stopped all your mouths till the Day of Judgment at least."

  "Wouldst thou have slain a girl?" asked Geoffrey, stepping back.

  "Not I, indeed! But for my master I would not be so sure. And he saysI'll come as far as that in time," added the apprentice with a shadeof bitterness.

  "Thou art a singular villain," said Geoffrey, "and wonderfully frankspoken."

  "And so thou'rt to be married?" Hubert said gently.

  "By this next noon, if all goes well!" exclaimed the lover withardour.

  "Heigho!" sighed Hubert, turning to go, "'twill be a merry Christmasfor somebody."

  "Give me thy hand," cried Geoffrey, feeling universally hearty.

  "No," replied the freebooter; "what meaning would there be in that? Iwould sever thy jugular vein in a moment if that would mend the brokenfortunes of my chief. Farewell, however. Good luck attend thee."

  The eyes of both young men met, and without unkindness in them.

  "But I am satisfied with my calling," Hubert asserted, repudiatingsome thought that he imagined was lurking in Geoffrey's look. "Quitecontent! It's very dull to be respectable. Look! the dawn willdiscover us."

  "But this plan?" cried Geoffrey, hastening after him; "I knownothing."

  "Thou needest know nothing. Keep the door of the pit shut. Farewell."

  And Geoffrey found himself watching the black form of Hubert dwindleagainst the white rises of the ground. He walked towards the tavern inmiserable uncertainty, for the brief gust of elation had passed fromhis heart. Then he returned irresolute, and looked into the pit. Therewas Sir Francis, dressed in the crocodile.

  "Come in, come in, young fellow! Ha! ha! how's thy head?" The Baronwas at the window, calling out and beckoning with vigour.

  Geoffrey returned to the study. There was no help for it.

  "We have written fifty-nine already!" said the Rev. Hucbald.

  But the youth cast a dull eye upon the growing heap, and sealed themvery badly. What pleasure was it to send out invitations to his ownwedding that might never be coming off?

  As for Hubert out in the night, he walked slowly through the widewhite country. And as he went across the cold fields
and saw how thestars were paling out, and cast long looks at the moon setting acrossthe smooth snow, the lad's eyes filled so that the moon twinkled andshot rays askew in his sight. He thought how the good times ofOyster-le-Main were ended, and he thought of Miss Elaine so far beyondthe reach of such as he, and it seemed to him that he was outside thecomfortable world.