CHAPTER XVI
In which I am Rid of an Unprofitable Servant
The next day, Governor and Councillors sat to receive presents from thePaspaheghs and to listen to long and affectionate messages fromOpechancanough, who, like the player queen, did protest too much. TheCouncil met at Yeardley's house, and I was called before it to make myreport of the expedition of the day before. It was late afternoon whenthe Governor dismissed us, and I found myself leaving the house incompany with Master Pory.
"I am bound for my lord's," said that worthy, as we neared the guesthouse. "My lord hath Xeres wine that is the very original nectar of thegods, and he drinks it from goblets worth a king's ransom. We have hearda deal to-day about burying hatchets: bury thine for the nonce, RalphPercy, and come drink with us."
"Not I," I said. "I would sooner drink with--some one else."
He laughed. "Here's my lord himself shall persuade you."
My lord, dressed with his usual magnificence and darkly handsome asever, was indeed standing within the guest-house door. Pory drew upbeside him. I was passing on with a slight bow, when the Secretarycaught me by the sleeve. At the Governor's house wine had been set forthto revive the jaded Council, and he was already half seas over. "Tarrywith us, captain!" he cried. "Good wine's good wine, no matter who poursit! 'S bud! in my young days men called a truce and forgot they werefoes when the bottle went round!"
"If Captain Percy will stay," quoth my lord, "I will give him welcomeand good wine. As Master Pory says, men cannot be always fighting. Abreathing spell to-day gives to-morrow's struggle new zest."
He spoke frankly, with open face and candid eyes. I was not fooled. Ifyesterday he would have slain me only in fair fight, it was not soto-day. Under the lace that fell over his wrist was a red cirque, themark of the thong with which I had bound him. As if he had told me, Iknew that he had thrown his scruples to the winds, and that he cared notwhat foul play he used to sweep me from his path. My spirit and my witrose to meet the danger. Of a sudden I resolved to accept hisinvitation.
"So be it," I said, with a laugh and a shrug of my shoulders. "A cup ofwine is no great matter. I'll take it at your hands, my lord, and drinkto our better acquaintance."
We all three went up into my lord's room. The King had fitted out hisminion bravely for the Virginia voyage, and the riches that had deckedthe state cabin aboard the _Santa Teresa_ now served to transform thebare room in the guest house at Jamestown into a corner of Whitehall.The walls were hung with arras, there was a noble carpet beneath aswell as upon the table, and against the wall stood richly carved trunks.On the table, beside a bowl of late flowers were a great silver flagonand a number of goblets, some of chased silver and some of colouredglass, strangely shaped and fragile as an eggshell. The late sun nowshining in at the open window made the glass to glow like preciousstones.
My lord rang a little silver bell, and a door behind us was opened."Wine, Giles!" cried my lord in a raised voice. "Wine for Master Pory,Captain Percy, and myself! And Giles, my two choice goblets."
Giles, whom I had never seen before, advanced to the table, took theflagon, and went toward the door, which he had shut behind him. Inegligently turned in my seat, and so came in for a glimpse, as heslipped through the door, of a figure in black in the next room.
The wine was brought, and with it two goblets. My lord broke off in themidst of an account of the mornings bear-baiting which the tediousnessof the Indians had caused us to miss. "Who knows if we three shall everdrink together again?" he said. "To honour this bout I use my mostprecious cups." Voice and manner were free and unconstrained. "This goldcup"--he held it up--"belonged to the Medici. Master Pory, who is a manof taste, will note the beauty of the graven maenads upon this side, andof the Bacchus and Ariadne upon this. It is the work of none other thanBenvenuto Cellini. I pour for you, sir." He filled the gold cup with theruby wine and set it before the Secretary, who eyed it with all thepassion of a lover, and waited not for us, but raised it to his lips atonce. My lord took up the other cup. "This glass," he continued, "asgreen as an emerald, freckled inside and out with gold, and shaped likea lily, was once amongst a convent's treasures. My father brought itfrom Italy, years ago. I use it as he used it, only on gala days. I fillto you, sir." He poured the wine into the green and gold and twistedbauble and set it before me, then filled a silver goblet for himself."Drink, gentlemen," he said.
"Faith, I have drunken already," quoth the Secretary, and proceeded tofill for himself a second time. "Here's to you, gentlemen!" and heemptied half the measure.
"Captain Percy does not drink," remarked my lord.
I leaned my elbow upon the table, and, holding up the glass against thelight, began to admire its beauty. "The tint is wonderful," I said, "aslucent a green as the top of the comber that is to break and overwhelmyou. And these knobs of gold, within and without, and the strange shapethe tortured glass has been made to take. I find it of a quite sinisterbeauty, my lord."
"It hath been much admired," said the nobleman addressed.
"I am strangely suited, my lord," I went on, still dreamily enjoying thebeauty of the green gem within my clasp. "I am a soldier with animagination. Sometimes, to give the rein to my fancy pleases me morethan wine. Now, this strange chalice,--might it not breed dreams asstrange?"
"When I had drunken, I think," replied my lord. "The wine would be apotent spur to my fancy."
"What saith honest Jack Falstaff?" broke in the maudlin Secretary. "Dothhe not bear testimony that good sherris maketh the brain apprehensiveand quick; filleth it with nimble, fiery, and delectable shapes, whichbeing delivered by the tongue become excellent wit? Wherefore let usdrink, gentlemen, and beget fancies." He filled for himself again, andburied his nose in the cup.
"'Tis such a cup, methinks," I said, "as Medea may have filled forTheseus. The white hand of Circe may have closed around this stem whenshe stood to greet Ulysses, and knew not that he had the saving herb inhis palm. Goneril may have sent this green and gilded shape to Regan.Fair Rosamond may have drunk from it while the Queen watched her. Atsome voluptuous feast, Caesar Borgia and his sister, sitting crowned withroses, side by side, may have pressed it upon a reluctant guest, whohad, perhaps, a treasure of his own. I dare swear Rene, the Florentine,hath fingered many such a goblet before it went to whom Catherinede'Medici delighted to honour."
"She had the whitest hands," maundered the Secretary. "I kissed themonce before she died, in Blois, when I was young. Rene was one of yourslow poisoners. Smell a rose, draw on a pair of perfumed gloves, drinkfrom a certain cup, and you rang your own knell, though your bier mightnot receive you for many and many a day,--not till the rose was dust,the gloves lost, the cup forgotten."
"There's a fashion I have seen followed abroad, that I like," I said."Host and guest fill to each other, then change tankards. You are myhost to-day, my lord, and I am your guest. I will drink to you, my lord,from your silver goblet."
With as frank a manner as his own of a while before, I pushed the greenand gold glass over to him, and held out my hand for the silver goblet.That a man may smile and smile and be a villain is no new doctrine. Mylord's laugh and gesture of courtesy were as free and ready as if thepoisoned splendour he drew toward him had been as innocent as a pearlwithin the shell. I took the silver cup from before him. "I drink to theKing," I said, and drained it to the bottom. "Your lordship does notdrink. 'Tis a toast no man refuses."
He raised the glass to his lips, but set it down before its rim hadtouched them. "I have a headache," he declared. "I will not drinkto-day."
Master Pory pulled the flagon toward him, tilted it, and found it empty.His rueful face made me laugh. My lord laughed too,--somewhatloudly,--but ordered no more wine. "I would I were at the Mermaidagain," lamented the now drunken Secretary. "There we didn't split aflagon in three parts.... The Tsar of Muscovy drinks me down a quarternof aqua vitae at a gulp,--I've seen him do it.... I would I were theBacchus on this cup, with the purple grapes adangle above me.... Wineand
women--wine and women ... good wine needs no bush ... good sherrissack".... His voice died into unintelligible mutterings, and his grayunreverend head sank upon the table.
I rose, leaving him to his drunken slumbers, and, bowing to my lord,took my leave. My lord followed me down to the public room below. Aparty of up-river planters had been drinking, and a bit of chalk layupon a settle behind the door upon which the landlord had marked theirscore. I passed it; then turned back and picked it up. "How long a lineshall I draw, my lord?" I asked with a smile.
"How does the length of the door strike you?" he answered.
I drew the chalk from top to bottom of the wood. "A heavy score makes aheavy reckoning, my lord," I said, and, leaving the mark upon the door,I bowed again and went out into the street.
The sun was sinking when I reached the minister's house, and going intothe great room drew a stool to the table and sat down to think. MistressPercy was in her own chamber; in the room overhead the minister paced upand down, humming a psalm. A fire was burning briskly upon the hearth,and the red light rose and fell,--now brightening all the room, nowleaving it to the gathering dusk. Through the door, which I had leftopen, came the odour of the pines, the fallen leaves, and the dampearth. In the churchyard an owl hooted, and the murmur of the river waslouder than usual.
I had sat staring at the table before me for perhaps half an hour, whenI chanced to raise my eyes to the opposite wall. Now, on this wall,reflecting the firelight and the open door behind me, hung a smallVenetian mirror, which I had bought from a number of such toys broughtin by the _Southampton_, and had given to Mistress Percy. My eyes restedupon it, idly at first, then closely enough as I saw within it a manenter the room. I had heard no footfall; there was no noise now behindme. The fire was somewhat sunken, and the room was almost in darkness; Isaw him in the glass dimly, as shadow rather than substance. But thelight was not so faint that the mirror could not show me the raised handand the dagger within its grasp. I sat without motion, watching thefigure in the glass grow larger. When it was nearly upon me, and thehand with the dagger drawn back for the blow, I sprang up, wheeled, andcaught it by the wrist.
A moment's fierce struggle, and I had the dagger in my own hand and theman at my mercy. The fire upon the hearth seized on a pine knot andblazed up brightly, filling the room with light. "Diccon!" I cried, anddropped my arm.
I had never thought of this. The room was very quiet as, master and man,we stood and looked each other in the face. He fell back to the wall andleaned against it, breathing heavily; into the space between us the pastcame thronging.
I opened my hand and let the dagger drop to the floor. "I suppose thatthis was because of last night," I said. "I shall never strike youagain."
I went to the table, and sitting down leaned my forehead upon my hand.It was Diccon who would have done this thing! The fire crackled on thehearth as had crackled the old camp fires in Flanders; the wind outsidewas the wind that had whistled through the rigging of the _Treasurer_,one terrible night when we lashed ourselves to the same mast and neverthought to see the morning. Diccon!
Upon the table was the minister's inkhorn and pen. I drew my tabletsfrom the breast of my doublet and began to write. "Diccon!" I called,without turning, when I had finished.
He came slowly forward to the table, and stood beside it with hanginghead. I tore the leaf from the book and pushed it over to him. "Takeit," I ordered.
"To the commander?" he asked. "I am to take it to the commander?"
I shook my head. "Read it."
He stared at it vacantly, turning it now this way, now that.
"Did you forget how to read when you forgot all else?" I said sternly.
He read, and the colour rushed into his face.
"It is your freedom," I said. "You are no longer man of mine. Begone,sirrah!"
He crumpled the paper in his hand. "I was mad," he muttered.
"I could almost believe it," I replied. "Begone!"
After a moment he went. Sitting still in my place, I heard him heavilyand slowly leave the room, descend the step at the door, and go out intothe night.
A door opened, and Mistress Jocelyn Percy came into the great room,like a sunbeam strayed back to earth. Her skirt was of flowered satin,her bodice of rich taffeta; between the gossamer walls of her Frenchruff rose the whitest neck to meet the fairest face. Upon her dark hairsat, as lightly as a kiss, a little pearl-bordered cap. A colour was inher cheeks and a laugh on her lips. The rosy light of the burning pinecaressed her,--now dwelling on the rich dress, now on the gold chainaround the slender waist, now on rounded arms, now on the white foreheadbelow the pearls. Well, she was a fair lady for a man to lay down hislife for.
"I held court this afternoon!" she cried. "Where were you, sir? MadamWest was here, and my Lady Temperance Yeardley, and Master Wynne, andMaster Thorpe from Henricus, and Master Rolfe with his Indianbrother,--who, I protest, needs but silk doublet and hose and a month atWhitehall to make him a very fine gentleman."
"If courage, steadfastness, truth, and courtesy make a gentleman," Isaid, "he is one already. Such an one needs not silk doublet nor courttraining."
She looked at me with her bright eyes. "No," she repeated, "such an oneneeds not silk doublet nor court training." Going to the fire, she stoodwith one hand upon the mantelshelf, looking down into the ruddy hollows.Presently she stooped and gathered up something from the hearth. "Youwaste paper strangely, Captain Percy," she said. "Here is a wholehandful of torn pieces."
She came over to the table, and with a laugh showered the whitefragments down upon it, then fell to idly piecing them together. "Whatwere you writing?" she asked. "'To all whom it may concern: I, RalphPercy, Gentleman, of the Hundred of Weyanoke, do hereby set free fromall service to me and mine----'"
I took from her the bits of paper, and fed the fire with them. "Paper isbut paper," I said. "It is easily rent. Happily a man's will is moredurable."
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