Читать книгу Ainslee's, Vol. 15, No. 6, July 1905 - Various - Страница 8

The night was so far advanced that the moon was now directly overhead, and it was not very long before Lindley saw, not a hundred yards ahead of him, a white horse, ridden negligently by a somewhat slovenly lad – hooded, cloaked and doubled up in the saddle, as though riding were a newly acquired accomplishment. The road was lonely enough to instill an eerie feeling in the stoutest heart, and yet the lad seemed quite unmoved when Lindley, after one or two vocal appeals, laid a heavy hand on his horse’s bridle.

“Are ye stone deaf, my lad, or asleep, or merely mooning over some kitchen wench?” demanded Lindley, with asperity.

“Neither, my master,” answered the lad, in the cracking voice that leaps unbidden from piping youth to manly depths. “I’m uncommonly good of hearing. I’d sure fall off my horse if I were asleep, and the wench who’s most in my mind would be sadly out of place in a kitchen.”

“Didn’t you hear me calling, then?” Lindley was reining in his own steed to keep pace with the white horse.

“Surely I heard your halloo” – the boy’s hand drew his hood closer about his face – “but I did not know that it was addressed to me.”

“You’re servant to Master James Ogilvie, are you not?” Lindley’s tone implied a statement rather than a question, but the lad denied him.

“No, you’re wrong. I’m no servant of Master James Ogilvie’s.”

“But it’s Mistress Judith Ogilvie’s horse you ride!” Again Lindley made an assertion.

“Ay, you’re right there,” answered the boy. “Once wrong, once right. Try again, my master.”

“It’s you who’ll be tried, I’m thinking,” said Lindley, once again laying his hand on the scarlet bridle of the white horse. “What do you with Mistress Judith’s horse at this hour of the night, if you’re not Master Ogilvie’s servant?”

“I might be servant to Mistress Judith,” hazarded the lad.

“No insolence, boy,” quoth Lindley, working himself into a fine rage. “Mistress Judith has no servants that are not of her father’s household.”

“Ah, that proves that you’ve not seen Mistress Judith Ogilvie.” A faint ripple, that might have been laughter, shook the boy’s words. “All men are servants to Mistress Ogilvie, all men who have laid eyes on the lady.”

“And so you’re serving Mistress Judith by riding her horse from The Jolly Grig to the Ogilvie stables?” The sneer in Lindley’s voice was evident, and he tried again to take possession of the scarlet bridle that had slipped or had been withdrawn from his fingers.

“Ay, my master, the horse had strayed while Mistress Judith was gathering wild flowers in the Ogilvie woods. And since you may have reason for your curiosity, I’ll add that the maid was afraid her father would deprive her of the horse if he knew of this mischance, and she dared not trust one of the stable boys to search for it, so she came to me.”

“And thanking you for so much courtesy, add but one more favor,” scoffed Lindley. “Who and what may you be that Mistress Judith should come to you for aid?”

Lindley could see the careless shrug of the lad’s shoulders as he answered:

“Why, as I told you to-night, I’m servant to Miss Judith Ogilvie, servant and lover of Mistress Judith Ogilvie.”

“Lover!” The word halted at Lindley’s teeth, and his eyes rested superciliously on the slouched figure beside him.

“Ay, lover,” answered the lad, ignoring Lindley’s tone, unconscious of his look. “As the brook loves the moon, as the brook holds the moon in its heart and cherishes her there, so hold I Mistress Judith in my heart.”

“I like not your manner, boy, neither your manner nor your conversation.” Lindley’s anger expressed itself in his voice.

“Alas! I cannot change my manner so readily, my lord. But the conversation? It is of your own seeking. It is yours to end when you please. I am in no hurry, and the road lies ahead of you.” The lad halted his horse, but Lindley also drew rein.

“Answer straight who and what you are,” he cried. “I am cousin to Master James Ogilvie, and I have a right to demand an answer to those questions.”

“Ah! A straight question always merits an answer, Master – Master – But I know not your name,” said the boy. “I’m called Johan, and I’m bonded for a term of years to a man who has many names, and who plays many parts.”

“You are one of the play actors, then!” burst from Lindley’s lips.

“Yes, one of the play actors.” The lad’s words were simple, yet something in his tone gave new offense.

“I’ll have my cousin whip you from his lands before the morning’s an hour old,” spluttered Lindley.

The boy’s laughter rang through the woods.

“Master Ogilvie had already made that threat, but Mistress Judith sent him word that the day we were whipped from the common, that day would she whip herself from his house. Mistress Judith is, I think, only too ready to sign a bond with my master. She loves – She’d make a good actor, would Mistress Judith.”

There was a long silence. The two horses were again pacing with well matched steps through the miry road. Twice, when the moonlight shone full upon them, Lindley tried to see the lad’s face, but each time only the pointed hood of the slouchy cape rewarded his curiosity. From his voice he judged his companion to be not more than fourteen or fifteen years old, although his words would have proved him older.

Suddenly the lad spoke.

“If you are cousin to Master James Ogilvie, as you say, why you are, then, cousin, too, to my Mistress Judith. You have seen her lately? Possibly she has confessed her plans, her ambitions, to you!”

“Nay, I’ve not seen the girl since we were children,” admitted Lindley, almost against his will.

“Well, she has – why, she has grown up since then. You would care to hear what she is like? I see her constantly, you know. Her face is as familiar as my own – almost. She’s over tall for a woman and over slight, to my way of thinking. But with the foils – at the butts – ay, and with the pistols, she’s better than any man I know. She’s afraid of naught, too – save stupidity.”

“She was afraid of naught when she was a child,” agreed Lindley, his interest in his cousin permitting his interest in the lad’s words. “It’s to be hoped that her temper has improved,” he added, to himself. “But red hair begets temper, and, if I am right, my cousin’s hair is red.”

Again the boy’s laughter startled the woods.

“Ay, red it is. Red as a fox, and her eyes are red, too; red with glints of yellow, save when she’s angry, and then they’re black as night. She’s no beauty, this Mistress Judith. Her skin’s too white, and her mouth’s too small, and, as I said, she’s over tall and over slight, but no man can look at her without loving her, and she – why, she cares nothing for any man. She gives no man a chance to woo her, and declares she never will.”

A plan was forming itself immaturely in Lindley’s mind, and he had given small heed to the boy’s description of his lady. Now he spoke shortly.

“I want your help, boy. I intend to marry Mistress Judith, with or without her consent. And I want all the assistance you can give me. She trusts you, it seems. Therefore I will trust you. I would know more of Mistress Judith than I do. You see her daily, you say. Then you can meet me here each night and report to me what Mistress Judith does and says. The day she marries me, a hundred English crowns will be yours.”

“Ah, you go too fast, my lord,” cried the lad. “I know full well that Mistress Judith will never marry you. That I can promise you, and if I agreed to this proposition of yours I would be on a fool’s errand as well as you.”

“But I’ll pay you well for your trouble if I fail, never fear. And I know that I’ll not fail,” boasted Lindley. “But the day I speak first to Mistress Judith, I’ll give you a quarter of the sum. The day she consents to be my wife, I’ll double that, and on our wedding day I’ll double it once more. So your errand will not be a fool’s errand, whatever mine may be.”

The boy seemed to hesitate.

“And I’m to meet you here, each night, at the edge of the Ogilvie woods?” he questioned.

“Ay, each night for a fortnight, or a month, however long my wooing may take.”

“And I’m to spy on Mistress Judith and tell you all her goings and her comings and all?”

“No, not to spy,” retorted Lindley; “merely to let me know her passing moods and caprices, her whimsies, her desires.”

“But if you should be detained, my lord; if you cannot come, must I send word to – to – ”

“Ay, to Cecil Lindley, at – ”

“Oh, my master, my master!” interrupted the boy, his elfish laughter ringing through the woods. “Had you told me your name at first, we had been spared all this foolish dickering. Why, Lindley’s the man she detests; the man whose very name throws her into a frenzy of temper. There’s naught that you can do to win Mistress Judith. Why, man, she despises you. Nay, she told her father only to-day – I was standing near the tree where they sat, mind you – that if ever again your name was mentioned to her, she would leave her home or – or even kill herself – anything to rid her ears forever of the hateful sound. How can you hope to win Mistress Judith?”

“Win her I will, boy,” answered Lindley. “I’m not afraid of her temper, either. For you, your part is to do as you’re told. Leave the rest to me. But you need go no further now. This road leads to the stables. I’ll deliver Mistress Judith’s horse with mine. A bargain’s a bargain when it’s sealed with gold.” He flung a sovereign onto the road in front of him.

The two horses stood side by side, and the lad sat contemplating the gold where it shone in the moonlight.

“As you will, Master Lindley,” he said. “And I’ll wager it would speed your cause could I tell Mistress Judith that you defy her will and her temper. That, in itself, would go far toward winning her. As for the horses, best let me take the two of them. There are none of the boys awake at this hour. It must be near three. With your good leave, I’ll stable yours when I put Mistress Judith’s nag in its stall.”

Lindley, standing in the moonlight on his cousin’s steps, watched the young play actor as he walked somewhat unsteadily away between the two horses. He wished that he had seen the lad’s face, and, curiously enough, it was this wish, and the young play actor himself, who filled the last thoughts in Cecil Lindley’s brain before he fell asleep, in his cousin’s house – the play actor who was to be the go-between in his wooing of Mistress Judith Ogilvie.