Читать книгу Over the Hills - John Jeffery Farnol - Страница 14

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It was (as I judge) late afternoon, for the sun was trending westwards, when wearied with my aimless rambling I sat, very disconsolate, wondering what was to become of me. And the more I pondered, the more hopeless seemed my situation, with no haven of refuge beyond these desolate woods, and they full of soldiers in quest of me (or rather the clothes that covered me), with no friend to aid or comfort me, even supposing I won free of the red-coats, and but one guinea betwixt myself and destitution.

The longer I thought, the more hopeless I grew, so that at last I came to the following desperate resolution, viz: That since I might not lurk for ever in these solitudes, since I must eat, I would therefore no longer seek to hide, but would quit the woods forthwith, letting chance direct me, and either make my way Londonwards (a weary journey) or deliver myself up to the soldiers, trusting to prove my true identity even though I must fall into the eager, merciless clutches of Master Bragg.

With this purpose in mind then, I rose and set forth easterly, but had gone scarce a dozen paces when I leapt to the sharp report of two shots fired in rapid succession, and stood as it were thunderstruck, scarce breathing, and head twisted to stare in the direction whence these ominous sounds had come.

At last, minding my so recent resolution, I set my teeth and began to walk thither, determined to cry out and yield myself at the first glint of scarlet coat. And thus, all at once, I came upon a narrow glade or ride and stopped aghast, as well I might.

Within a few yards of me lay a man all asprawl and half-buried in the bracken, with arms wide-tossed, above whom stood another man in the act of writing, and though the face of this second man was averted, I knew him instantly for Sir Hector and turned to fly; but a stick snapped beneath my unwary foot, and in that moment he spun round and saw me.

"What, my oaf," he exclaimed in queer, high voice, "d'ye haunt me yet? There's a fate in't, methinks. Tell me, what did you see?"

"Nothing!" I answered, staring into his compelling eyes, though very conscious of the dreadful still shape in the bracken.

"What did you hear?"

"Two shots!" I answered, my lips suddenly dry.

"Ha—two? So shall you witness here was fair duello. Come you hither—nearer—nearer, fool! Ha what now? What ails you?" For I had seen at last the face of this sprawler in the bracken and, even as I looked, there brake from me a gasping cry, my knees gave and I sank down, shaken by violent tremors, for this dead face, that gazed heavenwards with eyes so untroubled and serene, was young wellnigh as my own.

"What, d'ye know him, my clod? Speak, bumpkin speak!" For answer I pointed with shaking finger.

"Well, fool, well?"

"He—he is—wearing my clothes!" I gasped.

"Ay, and you his, so you may cry quits. He made you his scapegoat, as I warned you. Now you may go—and remember you heard two shots! Off with ye—stay!" exclaimed Sir Hector, and stared from me to the paper in his hand, then laughed softly, and folding this missive, thrust it into his bosom and grasped me by the collar. "Come!" said he, and dragging me to unsteady legs, hurried me away, with never so much as one backward glance at his handiwork, that pitiful thing lying there so dreadfully silent and still.

"Come, hold up!" exclaimed my companion, for I shuddered so violently I might scarce go. "Pah, what ails ye, boy?"

"He—he was so—young!" said I, 'twixt chattering teeth.

"Why, then, he has had the less time for sinning."

And after some while he brought me where was his horse, the which he mounted and, bidding me to his stirrup, on we went together though whither, or for what end, I cared not.

"Oaf," says he after some while, glancing down at me with his keen eyes, "who are ye?"

"Nobody, sir."

"Tush!" he exclaimed peevishly. "What's your name, fool?"

"Adam, sir."

"Adam what, fool?"

"Thursday they named me, sir."

"An odd name, boy."

"I am a foundling, sir, and 'twas on a Thursday I was taken up from the arms of my dead mother."

"Ah—dead was she? Dead, say you, boy?"

"In a ditch beside a stile, sir."

"Poor lass! Poor, sorrowful creature!" said he in voice so marvellous sweet and gentle that I glanced up in amazement, to see that his look matched his tone.

"God comfort her, boy!" says he, meeting my look.

"Amen, sir!"

"Any man that should bring a woman to such miserable end—such suffering and death, should himself suffer and die—eh, boy, eh?"

"Yes!" cried I, clenching my fists, "Yes!"

"Being a devil fit only for the deepest hell—eh, boy? Aha!" he exclaimed, and, raising gauntleted hand, he clenched and shook it so fiercely and with laugh so wild and savagely triumphant that I ventured a question, whereon he cuffed my hat over my eyes calling me "cursed lout."

And now we reached a narrow lane which, as I judged, should soon bring me to the high road.

"Hast ever seen a devil, boy?" enquired my companion suddenly.

"No, sir," I answered, wondering.

"Then, if we're in luck, I'll show ye one, an aged devil, a very pompous, very arrogant devil, and prouder than the arch-fiend!"

After this we went in silence some while, my companion seemingly lost in gloomy thought; at last, reaching a little eminence, he checked his horse and pointed towards a goodly mansion that peeped mid bowery trees within a noble park.

"D'ye ken yon house?" he enquired, scowling at it.

"No, sir."

"Well, 'tis there we're going, 'tis there, if fortune prove kind, we shall find our devil—come!" So saying, he wheeled his horse aside into a narrow, leafy track, hard to be discovered save by eyes familiar, which presently brought us to a mossy wall. Here he dismounted and, having tethered his horse, led me where bushes grew and a rising ground made the wall easy to be scaled.

"Up!" said he; and next moment we were in a fair garden, where flowers bloomed backed by hedges wonderfully shaped and trimmed. And now, clapping hand on my shoulder, he guided me along mazy, winding paths, like one very familiar with the place, never faltering, though once he turned aside where stood an ancient sundial and paused awhile his head bowed, his two hands resting on the weathered stone; then he led me on again till, reaching an arch cut in the thickness of the great yew hedge, he halted, and I saw we stood close upon a certain wing of the house. Before us rose a flight of stone steps leading up to a noble terrace, where was a door with a row of windows beyond.

"Bide ye here!" says my companion softly, "Keep out o' sight and stir at your peril!" Then he was gone, and I no sooner alone than, despite his warning, I began to look about me, wondering where I might hide; but then back he comes, his eyes aglow, his lips faint-curving in their disdainful smile.

"Fortune is with us, boy!" says he in my ear. "Our devil comes, watch now—the door on the terrace yonder!" Even as he spoke this door opened wide and a full-toned, masterful voice reached us:

"My cane, Thomas, my cane! Ha, must I wait, rogue?" And then forth into the sunset glory stepped the most splendid old gentleman I had ever seen. Very tall he seemed and of portly habit, haughtily erect despite his years, a disdainful, arrogant figure, cold pride in every line of him, from glossy periwig that curled below his shoulders to the diamond shoe-buckles that flamed and glittered with his every stately stride. He was attended by two liveried footmen, who followed close on his heels; reaching the terrace steps he paused to glance about him in slow, dignified fashion, and thus I saw his face very lined, as with more than years, and his deep-set eyes very bright and piercing.

"Thomas, my snuff-box! John, my hat! You may go!"

Mutely the two servants bowed and departed, and slowly, step by step, this grand gentleman began to descend the stair.

"Boy," said Sir Hector, in my ear, "behold our devil! Faith he might be Satan himself!" Now, glancing up, I saw the speaker's face convulsed with such hate as appalled me; and yet his voice was mild and gentle when next he spoke, "A pompous devil—eh, boy? A very proud, ancient devil! He will go to the arbour on the lawn yonder—you will follow—now, mark me! So soon as he sees you—bow and give him—this!" And into my unwilling hand Sir Hector thrust a small, folded paper. With this in my fingers and Sir Hector's clutch upon my arm, I stood wondering what it all might mean, then:

"Go, boy! After him, Adam, lad, and remember—you bow and offer this paper. Should he refuse it, say 'Eustace.' Off with you!"

The grand gentleman had nearly reached the arbour when, hearing me behind him (as I suppose), he halted and turned about, staring down at me beneath thick, black eyebrows.

"How now?" he demanded in manner so peremptory that I cowered instinctively, quite forgetting to bow, "How came you here, sir? I protest 'tis an outrage! Ha, the devil, sir! Begone, I say, begone instantly!"

Here, and very humbly, I ventured to proffer him the folded paper.

"No, sir!" said he, waving me off with imperious gesture, "I will transact no business here, I say begone, sir, ere I summon my grooms—away, sir!"

"'Eustace'!" said I and recoiled, for the change in him was so instant and amazing, his stately form seemed to shrink, his fiercely arrogant eyes blenched to glance furtively this way and that, his haughty face, quite chapfallen, took on a strange mottled hue:

"Eustace?" he gasped in broken whisper, "My boy—my Eustace? Give—give me——" And, speaking, he snatched the paper and unfolding it began to read—A horrible gasping——The paper fluttered to the grass; and then, beholding the awful face above me, I shrank appalled.

"God—O merciful God—O Christ-Jesus!" cried he in dreadful voice, and, casting up his arms, clutched frantically at the air and fell headlong so that his great wig flew off and there, within a yard of my dusty boot, lay his aged head and pitifully bald save for a few straggling, grey hairs.

Now as I stared down at this splendid, stately gentleman thus shamefully abased, I beheld the paper lying within reach and (scarce knowing what I did) caught it up and read these words scrawled in great, bold characters

"My Lord and right accursed father-in-law,

"This to inform you that your son, and my brother-in-law, Eustace, is this day most happily dead by the hand of

"Your son-in-law very devoted,

"Macfarlane.

"There is left now only Richard and yourself."

Dropping this dreadful missive I glanced towards the aged and stricken father, then, overcome with sudden horror, turned and ran, nor did I stop until I had reached the wall and clambered over into the lane. Here the first thing my eyes lighted on was Sir Hector's horse and himself seated beside it, snuff-box in hand.

"Well, Adam," says he, beckoning me to approach, "we have contrived to thrust our devil deep into hell, betwixt us. Now long may he bide there, until his own turn be come."

"Tis—'tis you," I stammered, "surely—surely 'tis you are the devil and no man!"

"Hum!" quoth Sir Hector, taking his pinch of snuff, "Art a strange, something—audacious lad, I'm thinking, Adam, for now might I shoot ye for rebel and earn twenty guineas for the doing of't. And yet canst keep bold tongue in shivering, coward body, so I'll leave the money to be earned by the first red-coat that spies ye."

"I mean to yield myself up as soon as maybe," said I.

"A happy thought, boy, unless, being soldiers, they shoot ye first and enquire after."

Thus in a moment Sir Hector renewed all my fears, so that I stood drooping before him, the very picture (I nothing doubt) of abject despair.

"You—you think they'll—kill me, sir, on sight?"

"'Tis most likely!" he nodded, tapping his snuff-box and surveying me thoughtfully. "And you are afraid to die, boy?"

"Yes, sir," I answered, "O yes, indeed——"

"Ay, to be sure, you are young—and yet—not too young!" says he, still eyeing me with the same musing expression. "'Twould be an admirable stroke—and you might serve! A nameless foundling! Ay, you might serve to a marvel——"

"Not to die, sir?"

"Why, no," he answered, "no, not yet awhile—if you will be guided by me, boy."

"Sir—sir, what do you mean?"

"I'll bring ye where you may lie safe. Come!" So saying, he fobbed his snuff-box and rose.

"But how if the soldiers meet us?"

"None shall dare touch my prisoner."

Then he mounted and rode slowly down the lane; and, because I hated and feared him less than death, I followed whither he led.