By order of the company

by Mary Johnston

  Folded with it was a line in the commander's hand and with hissignature: "The bearer may pass without the palisade at his pleasure."

  I read the first paper again, refolded it, and rose to my feet. "Whobrought this, sirrah?" I demanded.

  His answer was glib enough: "One of the Governor's servants. He said ashow there was no harm in the letter, and the gold was good."

  "When was this?"

  "Just now. No, I didn't know the man."

  I saw no way to discover whether or not he lied. Drawing out anothergold piece, I laid it upon the table. He eyed it greedily, edging nearerand nearer.

  "For leaving this door unlocked," I said.

  His eyes narrowed and he moistened his lips, shifting from one foot tothe other.

  I put down a second piece. "For opening the outer door," I said.

  He wet his lips again, made an inarticulate sound in his throat, andfinally broke out with, "The commander will nail my ears to thepillory."

  "You can lock the doors after me, and know as little as you choose inthe morning. No gain without some risk."

  "That's so," he agreed, and made a clutch at the gold.

  I swept it out of his reach. "First earn it," I said dryly. "Look at thefoot of the pillory an hour from now and you'll find it. I'll not payyou this side of the doors."

  He bit his lips and studied the floor. "You're a gentleman," he growledat last. "I suppose I can trust ye."

  "I suppose you can."

  Taking up his lantern, he turned toward the door. "It's growing late,"he said, with a most uncouth attempt to feign a guileless drowsiness."I'll to bed, captain, when I've locked up. Good-night to ye!"

  He was gone, and the door was left unlocked. I could walk out of thatgaol as I could have walked out of my house at Weyanoke. I was free, butshould I take my freedom? Going back to the light of the fire, Iunfolded the paper and stared at it, turning its contents this way andthat in my mind. The hand--but once had I seen her writing, and then ithad been wrought with a shell upon firm sand. I could not judge if thiswere the same. Had the paper indeed come from her? Had it not? If intruth it was a message from my wife, what had befallen in a few hourssince our parting? If it was a forger's lie, what trap was set, whattoils were laid? I walked up and down, and tried to think it out. Thestrangeness of it all, the choice of a lonely and distant hut fortrysting-place, that pass coming from a sworn officer of the Company,certain things I had heard that day.... A trap ... and to walk into itwith my eyes open.... _An you hold me dear. As you are my knight, keepthis tryst. In distress and peril...._ Come what might, there was a riskI could not run.

  I had no weapons to assume, no preparations to make. Gathering up thegaolers gold, I started toward the door, opened it, and going out, wouldhave closed it softly behind me but that a booted leg thrust across thejamb prevented me. "I am going with you," said Diccon in a guardedvoice. "If you try to prevent me, I will rouse the house." His head wasthrown back in the old way; the old daredevil look was upon his face. "Idon't know why you are going," he declared, "but there'll be danger,anyhow."

  "To the best of my belief I am walking into a trap," I said.

  "Then it will shut on two instead of one," he answered doggedly.

  By this he was through the door, and there was no shadow of turning onhis dark, determined face. I knew my man, and wasted no more words. Longago it had grown to seem the thing most in nature that the hour ofdanger should find us side by side.

  When the door of the firelit room was shut, the gaol was in darknessthat might be felt. It was very still: the few other inmates were fastasleep; the gaoler was somewhere out of sight, dreaming with open eyes.We groped our way through the passage to the stairs, noiselesslydescended them, and found the outer door unchained, unbarred, andslightly ajar.

  When I had laid the gold beneath the pillory, we struck swiftly acrossthe square, being in fear lest the watch should come upon us, and tookthe first lane that led toward the palisade. Beneath the burning starsthe town lay stark in sleep. So bright in the wintry air were thosefar-away lights that the darkness below them was not great. We could seethe low houses, the shadowy pines, the naked oaks, the sandy laneglimmering away to the river, star-strewn to match the heavens. The airwas cold, but exceedingly clear and still. Now and then a dog barked, orwolves howled in the forest across the river. We kept in the shadow ofthe houses and the trees, and went with the swiftness, silence, andcaution of Indians.

  The last house we must pass before reaching the palisade was one thatRolfe owned, and in which he lodged when business brought him toJamestown. It and some low outbuildings beyond it were as dark as thecedars in which they were set, and as silent as the grave. Rolfe and hisIndian brother were sleeping there now, while I stood without. Or didthey sleep? Were they there at all? Might it not have been Rolfe who hadbribed the gaoler and procured the pass from West? Might I not find himat that strange trysting-place? Might not all be well, after all? I wassorely tempted to rouse that silent house and demand if its master werewithin. I did it not. Servants were there, and noise would be made, andtime that might be more precious than life-blood was flying fast. I wenton, and Diccon with me.

  There was a cabin built almost against the palisade, and here one manwas supposed to watch, whilst another slept. To-night we found bothasleep. I shook the younger to his feet, and heartily cursed him forhis negligence. He listened stupidly, and read as stupidly, by the lightof his lantern, the pass which I thrust beneath his nose. Staggering tohis feet, and drunk with his unlawful slumber, he fumbled at thefastenings of the gate for full three minutes before the ponderous woodfinally swung open and showed the road beyond. "It's all right," hemuttered thickly. "The commander's pass. Good-night, the three of ye!"

  "Are you drunk or drugged?" I demanded. "There are only two. It's notsleep that is the matter with you. What is it?"

  He made no answer, but stood holding the gate open and blinking at uswith dull, unseeing eyes. Something ailed him besides sleep; he may havebeen drugged, for aught I know. When we had gone some yards from thegate, we heard him say again, in precisely the same tone, "Good-night,the three of ye!" Then the gate creaked to, and we heard the bars drawnacross it.

  Without the palisade was a space of waste land, marsh and thicket,tapering to the narrow strip of sand and scrub joining the peninsula tothe forest, and here and there upon this waste ground rose a mean house,dwelt in by the poorer sort. All were dark. We left them behind, andfound ourselves upon the neck, with the desolate murmur of the river oneither hand, and before us the deep blackness of the forest. SuddenlyDiccon stopped in his tracks and turned his head. "I did hear somethingthen," he muttered. "Look, sir!"

  The stars faintly lit the road that had been trodden hard and bare bythe feet of all who came and went. Down this road something was comingtoward us, something low and dark, that moved not fast, and not slow,but with a measured and relentless pace. "A panther!" said Diccon.

  We watched the creature with more of curiosity than alarm. Unlessbrought to bay, or hungry, or wantonly irritated, these great cats werecowardly enough. It would hardly attack the two of us. Nearer and nearerit came, showing no signs of anger and none of fear, and paying noattention to the withered branch with which Diccon tried to scare itoff. When it was so close that we could see the white of its breast itstopped, looking at us with large, unfaltering eyes, and slightly movingits tail to and fro.

  "A tame panther!" ejaculated Diccon. "It must be the one Nantauquastamed, sir. He would have kept it somewhere near Master Rolfe's house."

  "And it heard us, and followed us through the gate," I said. "It was the_third_ the warder talked of."

  We walked on, and the beast, addressing itself to motion, followed atour heels. Now and then we looked back at it, but we feared it not.

  As for me, I had begun to think that a panther might be the leastformidable thing I should meet that night. By this I had scarcely anyhope--or fear--that I should find her at our journey's end. The lonesomepath that led
only to the night-time forest, the deep and dark riverwith its mournful voice, the hard, bright, pitiless stars, the cold, theloneliness, the distance,--how should she be there? And if not she, whothen?

  The hut to which I had been directed stood in an angle made by the neckand the main bank of the river. On one side of it was the water, on theother a deep wood. The place had an evil name, and no man had livedthere since the planter who had built it hanged himself upon itsthreshold. The hut was ruinous: in the summer tall weeds grew up aroundit, and venomous snakes harboured beneath its rotted and broken floor;in the winter the snow whitened it, and the wild fowl flew screaming inand out of the open door and the windows that needed no barring.To-night the door was shut and the windows in some way obscured. But theinterstices between the logs showed red; the hut was lighted within, andsome one was keeping tryst.

  The stillness was deadly. It was not silence, for the river murmured inthe stiff reeds, and far off in the midnight forest some beast of thenight uttered its cry, but a hush, a holding of the breath, an expectanthorror. The door, warped and shrunken, was drawn to, but was notfastened, as I could tell by the unbroken line of red light down oneside from top to bottom. Making no sound, I laid my hand upon it, pushedit open a little way, and looked within the hut.

  I had thought to find it empty or to find it crowded. It was neither. Atorch lit it, and on the hearth burned a fire. Drawn in front of theblaze was an old rude chair, and in it sat a slight figure draped fromhead to foot in a black cloak. The head was bowed and hidden, the wholeattitude one of listlessness and dejection. As I looked, there came along, tremulous sigh, and the head drooped lower and lower, as if in agrowing hopelessness.

  The revulsion of feeling was so great that for the moment I was dazed asby a sudden blow. There had been time during the walk from the gaol forenough of wild and whirling thoughts as to what should greet me in thathut; and now the slight figure by the fire, the exquisite melancholy ofits posture, its bent head, the weeping I could divine,--I had but onethought, to comfort her as quickly as I might. Diccon's hand was upon myarm, but I shook it off, and pushing the door open, crossed the unevenand noisy floor to the fire, and bent over the lonely figure beside it."Jocelyn," I said, "I have kept tryst."

  As I spoke, I laid my hand upon the bowed and covered head. It wasraised, the cloak was drawn aside, and there looked me in the eyes theItalian.

  As if it had been the Gorgon's gaze, I was turned to stone. The filmyeyes, the smile that would have been mocking had it not been so veryfaint, the pallor, the malignance,--I stared and stared, and my heartgrew cold and sick.

  It was but for a minute; then a warning cry from Diccon roused me. Isprang backward until the width of the hearth was between me and theItalian, then wheeled and found myself face to face with the King's latefavourite. Behind him was an open door, and beyond it a small innerroom, dimly lighted. He stood and looked at me with an insolence and atriumph most intolerable. His drawn sword was in his hand, the jewelledhilt blazing in the firelight, and on his dark, superb face a tauntingsmile. I met it with one as bold, at least, but I said no word, good orbad. In the cabin of the _George_ I had sworn to myself thatthenceforward my sword should speak for me to this gentleman.

  "You came," he said. "I thought you would."

  I glanced around the hut, seeking for a weapon. Seeing nothing morepromising than the thick, half-consumed torch, I sprang to it andwrested it from the socket. Diccon caught up a piece of rusted iron fromthe hearth, and together we faced my lord's drawn sword and a small,sharp, and strangely shaped dagger that the Italian drew from a velvetsheath.

  My lord laughed, reading my thoughts. "You are mistaken," he declaredcoolly. "I am content that Captain Percy knows I do not fear to fighthim. This time I play to win." Turning toward the outer door, he raisedhis hand with a gesture of command.

  In an instant the room was filled. The red-brown figures, naked save forthe loincloth and the headdress, the impassive faces dashed with black,the ruthless eyes,--I knew now why Master Edward Sharpless had gone tothe forest, and what service had been bought with that silver cup. ThePaspaheghs and I were old enemies; doubtless they would find their taska pleasant one.

  "My own knaves, unfortunately, were out of the way; sent home on the_Santa Teresa_," said my lord, still smiling. "I am not yet so poor thatI cannot hire others. True, Nicolo might have done the work just now,when you bent over him so lovingly and spoke so softly; but the rivermight give up your body to tell strange tales. I have heard that theIndians are more ingenious, and leave no such witness anywhere."

  Before the words were out of his mouth I had sprung upon him, and hadcaught him by the sword wrist and the throat. He strove to free hishand, to withdraw himself from my grasp. Locked together, we struggledbackward and forward in what seemed a blaze of lights and a roaring asof mighty waters. Red hands caught at me, sharp knives panted to drinkmy blood; but so fast we turned and writhed, now he uppermost, now I,that for very fear of striking the wrong man hands and knives could notbe bold. I heard Diccon fighting, and knew that there would be howlingto-morrow among the squaws of the Paspaheghs. With all his might my lordstrove to bend the sword against me, and at last did cut me across thearm, causing the blood to flow freely. It made a pool upon the floor,and once my foot slipped in it, and I stumbled and almost fell.

  Two of the Paspaheghs were silent for evermore. Diccon had the knife ofthe first to fall, and it ran red. The Italian, quick and sinuous as aserpent, kept beside my lord and me, striving to bring his dagger to hismaster's aid. We two panted hard; before our eyes blood, within our earsthe sea. The noise of the other combatants suddenly fell. The hush couldonly mean that Diccon was dead or taken. I could not look behind to see.With an access of fury I drove my antagonist toward a corner of thehut,--the corner, so it chanced, in which the panther had taken up itsquarters. With his heel he struck the beast out of his way, then made alast desperate effort to throw me. I let him think he was about tosucceed, gathered my forces and brought him crashing to the ground. Thesword was in my hand and shortened, the point was at his throat, when myarm was jerked backwards. A moment, and half a dozen hands had draggedme from the man beneath me, and a supple savage had passed a thong ofdeerskin around my arms and pinioned them to my sides. The game was up;there remained only to pay the forfeit without a grimace.

  Diccon was not dead; pinioned, like myself, and breathing hard, heleaned sullenly against the wall, they that he had slain at his feet. Mylord rose, and stood over against me. His rich doublet was torn anddragged away at the neck, and my blood stained his hand and arm. A smilewas upon the face that had made him master of a kingdom's master.

  "The game was long," he said, "but I have won at last. A long good-nightto you, Captain Percy, and a dreamless sleep!"

  There was a swift backward movement of the Indians, and a loud "Thepanther, sir! Have a care!" from Diccon. I turned. The panther, maddenedby the noise and light, the shifting figures, the blocked doors, thesight and smell of blood, the blow that had been dealt it, was crouchingfor a spring. The red-brown hair was bristling, the eyes were terrible.I was before it, but those glaring eyes had marked me not. It passed melike a bar from a catapult, and the man whose heel it had felt was fullin its path. One of its forefeet sank in the velvet of the doublet; theclaws of the other entered the flesh below the temple, and toredownwards and across. With a cry as awful as the panther's scream, theItalian threw himself upon the beast and buried his poniard in its neck.The panther and the man it had attacked went down together.

  When the Indians had unlocked that dread embrace and had thrust asidethe dead brute, there emerged from the dimness of the inner room MasterEdward Sharpless, gray with fear, trembling in every limb, to take thereins that had fallen from my lord's hands. The King's minion lay in hisblood, a ghastly spectacle; unconscious now, but with life beforehim,--life through which to pass a nightmare vision. The face out ofwhich had looked that sullen, proud, and wicked spirit had been one ofgreat beauty; it had brought h
im exceeding wealth and power beyondmeasure; the King had loved to look upon it; and it had come to this. Helived, and I was to die: better my death than his life. In every heartthere are dark depths, whence at times ugly things creep into thedaylight; but at least I could drive back that unmanly triumph, and bidit never come again. I would have killed him, but I would not have hadhim thus.

  The Italian was upon his knees beside his master: even such a creaturecould love. From his skeleton throat came a low, prolonged, croakingsound, and his bony hands strove to wipe away the blood. The Paspaheghsdrew around us closer and closer, and the werowance clutched me by theshoulder. I shook him off. "Give the word, Sharpless," I said, "or nod,if thou art too frightened to speak. Murder is too stern a stuff forsuch a base kitchen knave as thou to deal in."

  White and shaking, he would not meet my eyes, but beckoned the werowanceto him, and began to whisper vehemently; pointing now to the man uponthe floor, now to the town, now to the forest. The Indian listened,nodded, and glided back to his fellows.

  "The white men upon the Powhatan are many," he said in his own tongue,"but they build not their wigwams upon the banks of the Pamunkey.[1] Thesinging-birds of the Pamunkey tell no tales. The pine splinters willburn as brightly there, and the white men will smell them not. We willbuild a fire at Uttamussac, between the red hills, before the temple andthe graves of the kings." There was a murmur of assent from his braves.

  [1] The modern York.

  Uttamussac! They would probably make a two days' journey of it. We hadthat long, then, to live.

  Captors and captives, we presently left the hut. On the threshold Ilooked back, past the poltroon whom I had flung into the river onemidsummer day, to that prone and bleeding figure. As I looked, itgroaned and moved. The Indians behind me forced me on; a moment, and wewere out beneath the stars. They shone so very brightly; there wasone--large, steadfast, golden--just over the dark town behind us, overthe Governor's house. Did she sleep or did she wake? Sleeping or waking,I prayed God to keep her safe and give her comfort. The stars now shonethrough naked branches, black tree-trunks hemmed us round, and under ourfeet was the dreary rustling of dead leaves. The leafless trees gave wayto pines and cedars, and the closely woven, scented roof hid theheavens, and made a darkness of the world beneath.