XXIII
A DAY PASSES
A day is twenty-four hours if you take it by the card, but the spiritof joy or the spirit of sorrow has the power to multiply itspotentialities amazingly. Both these spirits walked by Evander's sideduring his second day at Harby. The one that went in sable remindedhim that his horizon was dwindling almost to his feet; the other, inrose and gold, hinted that it is better to be emperor for a day thanbeggar for a century. And truly through all that day Evander esteemedhimself happier than an emperor. For he had discovered that Brillianawas the most adorable woman in the world, and, knowing how his spanof life was shrinking, he allowed himself to adore without let orhinderance of hostile faiths and warring causes. He did not, asanother in his desperate case might have done, make the most of histime by using it for very straightforward love-making. There was afine austerity in him that denied such a course. Were he an undoomedman his creed and his cause would forbid him to philander; being adoomed man, it could not consort with his honor to act differently.But he was radiantly happy in her constant companionship, and thehours fled from him iris-tinted as he relived the age of gold.
But if Evander trod the air, there was another who pressed the earthwith leaden feet and carried a heart of lead. Halfman read Evander'shappiness with hostile eyes; he read, too, very clearly, Brilliana'scontent in Evander's company, and he raged at it. He had grown soused to himself as Brilliana's ally that he had come to dream maddreams which were none the less sweet because of their madness. Hehad rehearsed himself if not as Romeo at least as Othello, and ifBrilliana was not in the least like Desdemona that knowledge did notdash him, for he thought her much more delectable than the Venetian,and he thanked his stars that he was not a blackamoor. He had notpushed his thoughts to a precise formula; he had been content todelight during the hours of siege in the companionship of a matchlessmaid, and now the maid had found another companion, and he knew thathe was fiercely in love and as foolishly jealous as a moon-calf.Brilliana was as kind to him as ever, but she gave her time to thenew man, and Halfman, inwardly bleeding and outwardly the magnificentstoic, left the pair to themselves and absented himself at meal-timeson pretext of pressing business with the volunteer troop. But histemper grew as a gale grows and would soon prove a whirlwind.
The garden-room at Harby was one of its many glories. Its panelledwalls, its portraits of old-time Harbys, its painted ceiling, wereexquisite parts of its exquisite harmony. On the side towards thepark the wall was little more than a colonnade--to which doors couldbe fitted in winter-time, and here, as from a loggia, the indwellercould feast on one of the fairest prospects in Oxfordshire. Acrossthe moat the gardens stretched, in summer-time a riot of color,flowers glowing like jewels set in green enamel. In the waning autumnthe scene was still fair, even though the day was overcast as thisday was, from which the weather-wise and even the weather-unwisecould freely and confidently prophesy rain. Brilliana dearly lovedher garden-room for many things, most, perhaps, because of itsfull-length portrait of her King, an honest copy from an adorableVandyke, to which, as to a shrined image, Brilliana paid honestadoration. She knew more about the picture than anyone else inHarby, and used sometimes to wonder if the knowledge would ever availher. In the mean time, ever since the troubles began, she always benta knee whenever she passed the portrait. She had never seen her King,yet she felt as if she saw him daily, visible in the living flesh, sokeenly did her loyalty seem to quicken color and canvas. Brillianawas not the only soul in England whose loyalty gave the King a kindof godhead, but if she had many peers she had none, nor could have,who overpassed her.
On the morning of the third day of Evander's stay at Harby, Halfmansat on the edge of the table in the garden-room and stared throughthe open doorway into the green beyond. He was alone, and he hadflung off the stoic robe and was very frankly an angry man and veryfrankly a dangerous man. What he saw in the garden maddened him; hiseyes glittered like a cat's that stalks its prey. He had no room inhis thoughts for the cottage of his earlier dreams, with its pleasantgarden and its lazy hours over ale and tobacco. He thought only of awoman quite beyond his reach, and his heart lusted for the lawlessdays when your lucky buccaneer might take his pick of a score ofwomen by right of fire and sword and tame his choice as he pleased.
To this mood fortune sent interruption in the person of Sir BlaiseMickleton. Sir Blaise had opened the door expecting to find in theroom Brilliana, whom he had come with a purpose to visit, and insteadof Brilliana he found this queer soldier swinging his legs from thetable and scowling truculently. From what Sir Blaise had already seenof Halfman he found him very little to his mind, but he reflectedthat he had come on a mission, that Brilliana was nowhere in sight,and that Halfman, who had served her during the siege, might verywell direct him where he should find her.
As Halfman took no notice whatever of him, Sir Blaise deemed itadvisable, in the interests of his mission, to attract his attention.So he gave a politic cough and followed it with a "Give yougood-morrow" of such sufficient loudness that Halfman could notchoose but hear it. He did not change his attitude, however, or turnhis face from the window, as he answered, in a sullen voice,
"I should need a good-morrow to mend a bad day."
Sir Blaise had not the wit to let a sleeping dog lie, but must needsprod it to see if it could bark. So he very foolishly said what wereindeed obvious even to a greater fool than he.
"You seem in the sullens."
The sleeping dog could bark. Halfman turned a scowling face upon theknight as he answered, malevolently:
"Swamped, water-logged, foundering. You are a pretty parrakeet tocome between me and my musings."
The tone of Halfman's speech, the way of Halfman's demeanor were sooffensive that the knight's cheap dignity took fire. He swelled withdispleasure, flushed very red in the gills, and cleared his throatfor reproof.
"Master Majordomo, you forget yourself."
Halfman proved too indifferent or too self-absorbed to take umbrage.He stared into the garden again with a sigh.
"No, I remember myself, and the memory vexes me. I dreamed I was aking, a kaiser, a demigod. I wake, rub my eyes, and am no more than afool."
Sir Blaise was patronizingly forgiving. He was thirsty, also themorning was chilly.
"Let us exorcise your devil with a pottle of hot ale," he suggested.Halfman shook his head wistfully.
"I should be happier in a sable habit, with a steeple hat, and a rankin the Parliament army."
It was plain to Sir Blaise that a man must be very deep in the dumpswho was not to be tempted by hot ale.
"Lordamercy, are you for changing sides now?" he asked.
As Halfman made him no answer but continued to stare gloomily intothe garden, Blaise concluded that the interest lay there which madehim thus distracted. So he came down to the table and looked overHalfman's shoulder. In the distance he saw a man and woman walkingamong the trees. The man was patently the Puritan prisoner, the womanwas the chatelaine of Harby. The pair seemed very deep in converse.As Sir Blaise looked, they were out of sight round a turning. Halfmangave a heavy groan and spoke, more to himself, as it seemed, than tohis companion.
"Look how they walk in the garden, ever in talk. Time was she wouldwalk and talk with me, listen to my wars and wanderings, and call mea gallant captain."
"Are you jealous of the Puritan prisoner?" Blaise asked, astonished.Halfman answered with an oath.
"Oh, God, that the siege had lasted forever, or that she had kept herword and blown us sky high."
Blaise began to snigger.
"'Ods-life! do you dare a love for your lady?" he said. He had betternot have said it. Halfman turned on him with a face like a demon'sand the plump knight recoiled.
"Why the red devil should I not," Halfman asked, hoarsely, "if abumpkin squire like you may do as much?"
Blaise tried to domineer, but the effort was feeble before thefierceness in Halfman's glare.
"Are you speaking to me, your superior?" he stammered. Half
mananswered him mockingly, with a voice that swelled in menace as thetaunting speech ran on.
"Will you ride against me, cross swords with me, come to grips withme any way? You dare not. I am well born, have seen things, donethings 'twould make you shiver to hear of them. Come, I am in afiend's humor; come with your sword to the orchard and see which ofus is the better man."
Sir Blaise was in a fair panic at this raging fury he had conjured upand now was fain to pacify.
"Soft, soft, honest captain; why so choleric? I would not wrong you.But surely you do not think she favors this Puritan?"
"Oh, he's a proper man, damn him!" Halfman admitted. "He has a rightto a woman's liking. And he must love her, God help him! as every mandoes that looks on her."
Blaise looked pathetic.
"What is there to do?" he asked, helplessly. Halfman struck his rightfist into his left palm.
"I would do something, I promise you. He is no immortal. But we shallbe rid of him soon. If Colonel Cromwell do not surrender CousinRandolph we are pledged to his killing, and if he do, then our friendrejoins his army; and I pray the devil my master that I may have thejoy to pistol him on some stricken field."
Sir Blaise thought it was time to change the conversation.
"Let us leave these ravings and vaporings," he entreated, wheedling,"and return to the business of life. And 'tis a very unpleasantbusiness I come on."
Halfman drew his hand across his forehead as a man who seeks todissipate ill dreams. Then, with a tranquil face, he gave Blaise theattention he petitioned.
"How so?" he asked. Any business were a pleasing change from his sickthoughts.
"Why, I am a justice of the peace for these parts," Sir Blaise said,"and I am importuned by two honest neighbors to process of lawagainst your lady."
Halfman laughed unpleasantly.
"The Lady Brilliana's wish is the law of this country-side, I promiseyou."
He grinned maliciously and fingered at his sword-hilt. Sir Blaisefelt exceedingly uncomfortable. Here was no promising beginning for asolemn judicial errand. But the knight had a mighty high sense of hisown importance, and he felt himself shielded, as it were, from thetempers of this fire-eater by the dignity of his office and themajesty of the law. So he came to his business with a manner aspompous as he could muster.
"Master Rainham and Master Hungerford are exceedingly angry," heasserted.
Halfman flouted him and his clients.
"Because she bobbed them so bravely? The knaves came raving to ourgates when they found how they had been tricked into picking eachother's pockets. But I made them take to their heels, I promise you.You should have seen their fool faces at the sight of a musket'smuzzle."
Sir Blaise looked righteously indignant.
"Sir, sir," he protested, "muskets will not mend matters if thesegentlemen have been wronged. They came hot-foot to me, and in theinterests of peace I have entreated them hither. They wait without inthe care of two of your people to keep them from flying at eachother's throats."
Halfman heard the distressing news with equanimity.
"Why not let them kill each other?" he suggested, blandly. Blaiselifted his hands in horror.
"Friend," he said, "in this mission I am a man of peace. Will youacquaint your lady?"
Halfman grunted acquiescence.
"Oh, ay; bring in your boobies."
He turned on his heel and swung out through the doorway into thegarden.
Sir Blaise looked after him for a moment disapprovingly, then he wentto the door by which he had entered, and, opening it, called aloud,
"This way, gentlemen, this way."
The Lady of Loyalty House: A Novel Page 24
