CHAPTER X
AVOWED ENMITY
The pavilion had been built some fifty years ago, by one of the Spantonsof Acol who had a taste for fanciful architecture.
It had been proudly held by several deceased representatives of thefamily to be the reproduction of a Greek temple. It certainly hadcolumns supporting the portico, and steps leading thence to the ground.It was also circular in shape and was innocent of windows, deriving itssole light from the door, when it was open.
The late Sir Jeremy, I believe, had been very fond of the place. Beingof a somewhat morose and taciturn disposition, he liked the seclusion ofthis lonely corner of the park. He had a chair or two put into thepavilion and 'twas said that he indulged there in the smoking of thatfragrant weed which of late had been more generously imported into thiscountry.
After Sir Jeremy's death, the pavilion fell into disuse. Sir Marmadukeopenly expressed his dislike of the forlorn hole, as he was wont to callit. He caused the door to be locked, and since then no one had enteredthe little building. The key, it was presumed, had been lost; the lockcertainly looked rusty. The roof, too, soon fell into disrepair, and nodoubt within, the place soon became the prey of damp and mildew, thenest of homing birds, or the lair of timid beasts. Very soon the proudcopy of an archaic temple took on that miserable and forlorn lookpeculiar to uninhabited spots.
From an air of abandonment to that of eeriness was but a step, and nowthe building towered in splendid isolation, in this remote corner of thepark, at the confines of the wood, with a reputation for being the abodeof ghosts, of bats and witches, and other evil things.
When Master Busy sought for tracks of imaginary criminals bent onabducting the heiress he naturally drifted to this lonely spot; whenMaster Courage was bent on whispering sweet nothings into the ear of theother man's betrothed, he enticed her to that corner of the park wherehe was least like to meet the heavy-booted saint.
Thus it was that these three met on the one spot where as a rule at alate hour of the evening Prince Amede d'Orleans was wont to commence hiswanderings, sure of being undisturbed, and with the final disappearanceof Master Busy and Mistress Charity the place was once more deserted.
The bats once more found delight in this loneliness and from all aroundcame that subdued murmur, that creaking of twigs, that silence so fullof subtle sounds, which betrays the presence of animal life on theprowl.
Anon there came the harsh noise of a key grating in a rusty lock. Thedoor of the pavilion was cautiously opened from within and themysterious French prince, bewigged, booted and hatted, emerged into theopen. The night had drawn a singularly dark mantle over the woods. Banksof cloud obscured the sky; the tall elm trees with their ivy-coveredbranches, and their impenetrable shadows beneath, formed a dense wallwhich the sight of human creatures was not keen enough to pierce. SirMarmaduke de Chavasse, in spite of this darkness, which he hailedgleefully, peered cautiously and intently round as he descended thesteps.
He had not met Lady Sue in the capacity of her romantic lover since thatevening a week ago, when his secret had been discovered by Mistress deChavasse. The last vision he had had of the young girl was one redolentof joy and love and trust, sufficient to reassure him that all was wellwith her, in regard to his schemes; but on that same evening a week agohe had gazed upon another little scene, which had not filled him witheither joy or security.
He had seen Lady Sue standing beside a young man whose personality--tosay the least--was well-nigh as romantic as that of the exiled scion ofthe house of Orleans. He had seen rather than heard a young andpassionate nature pouring into girlish ears the avowal of an unselfishand ardent love which had the infinite merit of being real and true.
However well he himself might play his part of selfless hero and ofvehement lover, there always lurked the danger that the falseness of hisprotestations would suddenly ring a warning note to the subtle sense ofthe confiding girl. Were it not for the intense romanticism of herdisposition, which beautified and exalted everything with which it camein contact, she would of a surety have detected the lie ere this. He hadacted his dual role with consummate skill, the contrast between thesurly Puritanical guardian, with his round cropped head and shaven face,and the elegantly dressed cavalier, with a heavy mustache, an enormousperruque and a shade over one eye, was so complete that even Mistress deChavasse--alert, suspicious, wholly unromantic, had been momentarilydeceived, and would have remained so but for his voluntary revelation ofhimself.
But the watchful and disappointed young lover was the real danger: adanger complicated by the fact that the Prince Amede d'Orleans actuallydwelt in the cottage owned by Lambert's brother, the blacksmith. Themysterious prince had perforce to dwell somewhere; else, whenever spiedby a laborer or wench from the village, he would have excited stillfurther comment, and his movements mayhap would have been morepersistently dogged.
For this reason Sir Marmaduke had originally chosen Adam Lambert'scottage to be his headquarters; it stood on the very outskirts of thevillage and as he had only the wood to traverse between it and thepavilion where he effected his change of personality, he ran thus butfew risks of meeting prying eyes. Moreover, Adam Lambert, theblacksmith, and the old woman who kept house for him, both belonged tothe new religious sect which Judge Bennett had so pertinently dubbed theQuakers, and they kept themselves very much aloof from gossip and therest of the village.
True, Richard Lambert oft visited his brother and the old woman, but didso always in the daytime when Prince Amede d'Orleans carefully kept outof the way. Sir Marmaduke de Chavasse had all the true instincts of thebeast or bird of prey. He prowled about in the dark, and laid his snaresfor the seizure of his victim under cover of the night.
This evening certain new schemes had found birth in his active mind; hewas impatient that the victim tarried, when his brain was alive withthoughts of how to effect a more speedy capture. He leaned against thewall, close by the gate as was his wont when awaiting Sue, smilinggrimly to himself at thought of the many little subterfuges she wouldemploy to steal out of the house, without encountering--as shethought--her watchful guardian.
A voice close behind him--speaking none too kindly--broke in on hismeditations, causing him to start--almost to crouch like a frightenedcat.
The next moment he had recognized the gruff and nasal tones of AdamLambert. Apparently the blacksmith had just come from the wood throughthe gate, and had almost stumbled in the dark against the rigid figureof his mysterious lodger.
"Friend, what dost thou here?" he asked peremptorily. But already SirMarmaduke had recovered from that sudden sense of fear which had causedhim to start in alarm.
"I would ask the same question of you, my friend," he retorted airily,speaking in the muffled voice and with the markedly foreign accent whichhe had assumed for the role of the Prince, "might I inquire what you aredoing here?"
"I have to see a sick mare down Minster way," replied Lambert curtly,"this is a short cut thither, and Sir Marmaduke hath granted me leave.But he liketh not strangers loitering in his park."
"Then, friend," rejoined the other lightly, "when Sir Marmaduke dothobject to my strolling in his garden, he will doubtless apprise me ofthe fact, without interference from you."
Adam Lambert, after his uncivil greeting of his lodger, had alreadyturned his back on him, loath to have further speech with a man whom hehated and despised.
Like the majority of country folk these days, the blacksmith had awholesale contempt for every foreigner, and more particularly for thosewho hailed from France: that country--in the estimation of all Puritans,Dissenters and Republicans--being the happy abode of every kind ofimmorality and debauchery.
Prince Amede d'Orleans--as he styled himself--with his fantasticclothes, his airs and graces and long, curly hair was an object ofspecial aversion to the Quaker, even though the money which thedespised foreigner paid for his lodgings was passing welcome these hardtimes.
Adam resolutely avoided speech with the Prince, whenever possible, butthe
latter's provocative and sarcastic speech roused his dormant hatred;like a dog who has been worried, he now turned abruptly round and facedSir Marmaduke, stepping close up to him, his eyes glaring withvindictive rage, a savage snarl rising in his throat.
"Take notice, friend," he said hoarsely, "that I'll not bear thineimpudence. Thou mayest go and bully the old woman at the cottage when Iam absent--Oh! I've heard thee!" he added with unbridled savagery,"ordering her about as if she were thy serving wench ... but let me tellthee that she is no servant of thine, nor I ... so have done, my fineprince ... dost understand?"
"Prithee, friend, do not excite yourself," said Sir Marmaduke blandly,drawing back against the wall as far as he could to avoid closeproximity with his antagonist. "I have never wished to imply thatMistress Lambert was aught but my most obliging, most amiablelandlady--nor have I, to my certain knowledge, overstepped theprivileges of a lodger. I trust that your worthy aunt hath no cause forcomplaint. Mistress Lambert is your aunt?" he added superciliously, "isshe not?"
"That is nothing to thee," muttered the other, "if she be my aunt or no,as far as I can see."
"Surely not. I asked in a spirit of polite inquiry."
But apparently this subject was one which had more than any other thepower to rouse the blacksmith's savage temper. He fought with it for amoment or two, for anger is the Lord's, and strict Quaker disciplineforbade such unseemly wrangling. But Adam was a man of violenttemperament which his strict religious training had not altogethersucceeded in holding in check: the sneers of the foreign prince, hiscalm, supercilious attitude, broke the curb which religion had set uponhis passion.
"Aye! thou art mighty polite to me, my fine gentleman," he saidvehemently. "Thou knowest what I think of thy lazy foreign ways ... whydost thou not do a bit of honest work, instead of hanging round herladyship's skirts? ... If I were to say a word to Sir Marmaduke, 'twouldbe mightily unpleasant for thee, an I mistake not. Oh! I know whatthou'rt after, with thy fine ways, and thy romantic, lying talk ofliberty and patriotism! ... the heiress, eh, friend? That is thydesign.... I am not blind, I tell thee.... I have seen thee and her ..."
Sir Marmaduke laughed lightly, shrugging his shoulders in token ofindifference.
"Quite so, quite so, good master," he said suavely, "do ye not wasteyour breath in speaking thus loudly. I understand that your sentimentstowards me do not partake of that Christian charity of which ye andyours do prate at times so loudly. But I'll not detain you. Doubtlessworthy Mistress Lambert will be awaiting you, or is it the sick maredown Minster way that hath first claim on your amiability? I'll notdetain you."
He turned as if to go, but Adam's hard grip was on his shoulder in aninstant.
"Nay! thou'lt not detain me--'tis I am detaining thee!" said theblacksmith hoarsely, "for I desired to tell thee that thy ugly Frenchface is abhorrent to me ... I do not hold with princes.... For a princeis none better than another man nay, he is worse an he loafs and stealsafter heiresses and their gold ... and will not do a bit of honestwork.... Work makes the man.... Work and prayer ... not your titles andfine estates. This is a republic now ... understand? ... no king, noHouse of Lords--please the Lord neither clergymen nor noblemen soon....I work with my hands ... and am not ashamed. The Lord Saviour was acarpenter and not a prince.... My brother is a student and agentleman--as good as any prince--understand? Ten thousand times as goodas thee."
He relaxed his grip which had been hard as steel on Sir Marmaduke'sshoulder. It was evident that he had been nursing hatred and loathingagainst his lodger for some time, and that to-night the floodgates ofhis pent-up wrath had been burst asunder through the mysterious prince'staunts, and insinuations anent the cloud and secrecy which hung roundthe Lamberts' parentage.
Though his shoulder was painful and bruised under the pressure of theblacksmith's rough fingers, Sir Marmaduke did not wince. He looked hisavowed enemy boldly in the face, with no small measure of contempt forthe violence displayed.
His own enmity towards those who thwarted him was much more subtle,silent and cautious. He would never storm and rage, show his enmityopenly and caution his antagonist through an outburst of rage. AdamLambert still glaring into his lodger's eye, encountered nothing thereinbut irony and indulgent contempt.
Religion forbade him to swear. Yet was he sorely tempted, and we maypresume that he cursed inwardly, for his enemy refused to be drawn intowordy warfare, and he himself had exhausted his vocabulary of sneeringabuse, even as he had exhausted his breath.
Perhaps in his innermost heart he was ashamed of his outburst. Afterall, he had taken this man's money, and had broken bread with him. Hishand dropped to his side, and his head fell forward on his breast evenas with a pleasant laugh the prince carelessly turned away, and with anaffected gesture brushed his silken doublet, there where theblacksmith's hard grip had marred the smoothness of the delicate fabric.
Had Adam Lambert possessed that subtle sixth sense, which hears and seesthat which goes on in the mind of others, he had perceived a thought inhis lodger's brain cells which might have caused him to still furtherregret his avowal of open enmity.
For as the blacksmith finally turned away and walked off through thepark, skirting the boundary wall, Sir Marmaduke looked over his shoulderat the ungainly figure which was soon lost in the gloom, and muttered around oath between his teeth.
"An exceedingly unpleasant person," he vowed within himself, "you willhave to be removed, good master, an you get too troublesome."
The Nest of the Sparrowhawk: A Romance of the XVIIth Century Page 10
