CHAPTER XL
EDITHA'S RETURN
Squire Boatfield was vastly perturbed. Never had his position asmagistrate seemed so onerous to him, nor his duties as major-generalquite so arduous. A vague and haunting fear had seized him, a fearthat--if he did do his duty, if he did continue his investigations ofthe mysterious crime--he would learn something vastly horrible andawesome, something he had best never know.
He tried to take indifferent leave of the ladies, yet he quite dreadedto meet Lady Sue's eyes. If all the misery, the terror which she mustfeel, were expressed in them, then indeed, would her young face be aheart-breaking sight for any man to see.
He kissed the hand of Editha de Chavasse, and bowed in mute anddeferential sympathy to the young girl-wife, who of a truth had this dayquaffed at one draught the brimful cup of sorrow and of shame.
An inexplicable instinct restrained him from taking de Chavasse's hand;he was quite glad indeed that the latter seemingly absorbed in thoughtswas not heeding his going.
The squire in his turn now passed out of the little gate. The eveningwas drawing in over-rapidly now, and it would be a long and dismal ridefrom here to Sarre.
Fortunately he had two serving-men with him, each with a lantern. Theywere now standing beside their master's cob, some few yards down theroad, which from this point leads in a straight course down to Sarre.
Not far from the entrance to the forge, Boatfield saw petty-constablePyot in close converse with Master Hymn-of-Praise Busy, butler to SirMarmaduke. The man was talking with great volubility, and obviousexcitement, and Pyot was apparently torn between his scorn for thenarrator's garrulousness, and his fear of losing something of what thetalker had to say.
At sight of Boatfield, Pyot unceremoniously left Master Busy standing,open-mouthed, in the very midst of a voluble sentence, and approachedthe squire, doffing his cap respectfully as he did so.
"Will your Honor sign a warrant?" he asked.
"A warrant? What warrant?" queried the worthy squire, who of a truth,was falling from puzzlement to such absolute bewilderment that he feltliterally as if his head would burst with the weight of so much mysteryand with the knowledge of such dire infamy.
"I think that the scoundrel is cleverer than we thought, your Honor,"continued the petty constable, "we must not allow him to escape."
"I am quite bewildered," murmured the squire. "What is the warrant for?"
"For the apprehension of the man whom the folk about here called thePrince of Orleans. I can set the watches on the go this very night, nay!they shall scour the countryside to some purpose--the murderer cannot bevery far, we know that he is dressed in the smith's clothes, we'll gethim soon enough, but he may have friends...."
"Friends?"
"He may have been a real prince, your Honor," said Pyot with a laugh,which contradicted his own suggestion.
"Aye! aye! ... Mayhap!"
"He may have powerful friends ... or such as would resist the watches... resist us, mayhap ... a warrant would be useful...."
"Aye! aye! you are right, constable," said Boatfield, still a littlebewildered, "do you come along to Sarre with me, I'll give you a warrantthis very night. Have you a horse here?"
"Nay, your Honor," rejoined the man, "an it please you, my going toSarre would delay matters and the watches could not start their searchthis night."
"Then what am I to do?" exclaimed the squire, somewhat impatient of thewhole thing now, longing to get away, and to forget, beside his owncomfortable fireside, all the harrowing excitement of this unforgettableday.
"Young Lambert is a bookworm, your Honor," suggested Pyot, who was keenon the business, seeing that his zeal, if accompanied by success, wouldsurely mean promotion; "there'll be ink and paper in the cottage.... Anyour Honor would but write a few words and sign them, something I couldshow to a commanding officer, if perchance I needed the help ofsoldiery, or to the chief constable resident at Dover, for methinks someof us must push on that way ... your Honor must forgive ... we should beblamed--punished, mayhap--if we allowed such a scoundrel to remainunhung...."
"As you will, man, as you will," sighed the worthy squire impatiently,"but wait!" he added, as Pyot, overjoyed, had already turned towards thecottage, "wait until Sir Marmaduke de Chavasse and the ladies havegone."
He called his serving-men to him and ordered them to start on their waytowards home, but to wait for him, with his cob, at the bend of theroad, just in the rear of the little church.
Some instinct, for which he could not rightly have accounted, roused inhim the desire to keep his return to the cottage a secret from SirMarmaduke. Attended by Pyot, he followed his men down the road, and theangle of the cottage soon hid him from view.
De Chavasse in the meanwhile had ordered his own men to escort theladies home. Busy and Toogood lighted their lanterns, whilst Sue andEditha, wrapping their cloaks and hoods closely round their heads andshoulders, prepared to follow them.
Anon the little procession began slowly to wind its way back towardsAcol Court.
Sir Marmaduke lingered behind for a while, of set purpose: he had nowish to walk beside either Editha or Lady Sue, so he took some time inmounting his nag, which had been tethered in the rear of the forge. Hisintention was to keep the men with the lanterns in sight, for--thoughthere were no dangerous footpads in Thanet--yet Sir Marmaduke's mood wasnot one that courted isolation on a dark and lonely road.
Therefore, just before he saw the dim lights of the lanternsdisappearing down the road, which at this point makes a sharp dip beforerising abruptly once more on the outskirts of the wood, Sir Marmadukefinally put his foot in the stirrup and started to follow.
The mare had scarce gone a few paces before he saw the figure of a womandetaching itself from the little group on ahead, and then turning andwalking rapidly back towards the village. He could not immediatelydistinguish which of the two ladies it was, for the figure was totallyhidden beneath the ample folds of cloak and hood, but soon as itapproached, he perceived that it was Editha.
He would have stopped her by barring the way, he even thought ofdismounting, thinking mayhap that she had left something behind at thecottage, and cursing his men for allowing her to return alone, but quickas a flash of lightning she ran past him, dragging her hood closer overher face as she ran.
He hesitated for a few seconds, wondering what it all meant: he eventurned the mare's head round to see whither Editha was going. She hadalready reached the railing and gate in front of the cottage; the nextmoment she had lifted the latch, and Sir Marmaduke could see her blurredoutline, through the rising mist, walking quickly along the flaggedpath, and then he heard her peremptory knock at the cottage door.
He waited a while, musing, checking the mare, who longed to be gettinghome. He fully expected to see Editha return within the next minute orso, for--vaguely through the fast-gathering gloom--he had perceived thatsomeone had opened the door from within, a thin ray of yellowish lightfalling on Editha's cloaked figure. Then she disappeared into thecottage.
On ahead the swaying lights of the lanterns were rapidly becoming moreand more indistinguishable in the distance. Apparently Editha'sdeparture from out the little group had not been noticed by the others.The men were ahead, and Sue, mayhap, was too deeply absorbed in thoughtto pay much heed as to what was going on round her.
Sir Marmaduke still hesitated. Editha was not returning, and the cottagedoor was once more closed. Courtesy demanded that he should wait so asto escort her home.
But the fact that she had gone back to the cottage, at risk of having towalk back all alone and along a dark and dreary road, bore a weirdsignificance to this man's tortuous mind. Editha, troubled with a massof vague fears and horrible conjectures, had, mayhap, desired to havethem set at rest, or else to hear their final and terrible confirmation.
In either case Marmaduke de Chavasse had no wish now for a slow amblehomewards in company with the one being in the world who knew him forwhat he was.
That thought and also
the mad desire to get away at last, to cease withthis fateful procrastination and to fly from this country with thegolden booty, which he had gained at such awful risks, these caused himfinally to turn the mare's head towards home, leaving Editha to followas best she might, in the company of one of the serving-men whom hewould send back to meet her.
The mare was ready to go. He spurred her to a sharp trot. Then havingjoined the little group on ahead, he sent Master Courage Toogood backwith his lantern, with orders to inquire at the cottage for Mistress deChavasse and there to await her pleasure.
He asked Lady Sue to mount behind him, but this she refused to do. So heput his nag back to foot space, and thus the much-diminished littleparty slowly walked back to Acol Court.
The Nest of the Sparrowhawk: A Romance of the XVIIth Century Page 40
