Читать книгу The Jade of Destiny - John Jeffery Farnol - Страница 4

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In leafy bye-way where two bony nags cropped ravenous at tender grass and birds piped jubilant, a man whistled very melodiously, a slim, comely fellow quick with youth who, sprawled beneath the hedge, stared up at soaring lark.

Hither presently jingled the Captain, at sight of whom the man leapt nimbly afoot and, snatching off his hat, bowed with a supple grace but with such fervour of look that Captain Jocelyn shook his head, smiling in his crooked, wistful fashion:

“How now, Florian,” quoth he, “was’t not agreed to be done with thy bowing subservience?”

“Verily, my Captain. But sir, old habits stick, and to thee I bow as I breathe, since for me thou art the only man of all men.”

“Though mighty poor one, alack.”

“And yet,” nodded young Florian, “I mind a day in the leaguer at Sluys when Parma himself with proffers of gold and titles would ha’ bribed you to smite for Spain. And laughed you did, sir, but fought and starved on with the harassed Dutchmen.”

“I was never overly wise,” mourned the Captain, “for in the end Sluys fell and—to-day here we stand, thou and I, with nought to show for it all but scars and tatters! In such matters I was ever the fool. And yet so, too, was bold Roger Williams and Frankie Vere. Here’s some comfort to our own present sorry state. But zounds, with all my long years of hardship and fighting, marches, battles and leaguers, I do something marvel to find myself thus destitute.”

“Why, here’s no marvel, sir,” cried Florian, his eyes very bright, his shapely hands eloquent, “for you have ever chosen to fight o’ the losing side, the weak ’gainst the strong—so long as I have known you, ay since yon distant hour when you snatched from shameful death the beaten, starving wretch that was me. Cocksbody, sir, there is some folly better than wisdom, methinks! Howbeit, I had liefer be servant to such valiant fool than peer to the noblest——” But here the Captain pished and scowled and jingled his spurs, muttering oaths French, Spanish, Dutch and English, a very farrago, and becoming coherent at last, bade Florian put on his hat.

“For,” said he, tugging at moustachio, “thou and I ha’ marched and fought and starved so long together we must needs be friends—comrades well-proven we. So mind it, lad, mind it and bear yourself accordingly. Is’t understood, ha?”

“It is!” murmured Florian, his smooth cheeks flushed, his great eyes radiant. “Aha, to-day I live, I breathe, thanks to thee, I am a man.”

“Why then,” growled the Captain, “come and eat!” So they rode one behind the other and no word until they reached a shady high-way where, backing upon the green of aged trees, rose the chimneys and thatched roof of a cosy tavern with sign over door that proclaimed it:

Ye Peck o’ Malt

Jno. Bly.

And all very pleasant to sight on such hot morning. Here they halted and having tethered their bony steeds, they jingled up a step and down a step into cool, dim chamber redolent of wood-smoke, and herbs, and something gently a-simmering in large, black pot over the fire. A wide chamber this, stone-flagged below, heavily timbered above, small of window but with generous hearth flanked by ingle-seats. Here, too, were vasty oak settles and a massive table where stood a buxom woman kneading dough.

At sight of these hard-favoured visitors the dame frowned, beholding the Captain’s face she curtseyed and, quick to heed his wistful smile, she dimpled and smiled also.

“What would ye, my masters?” she enquired, glancing from Jocelyn’s hawk face to his companion’s smoothly handsome features and thence to the door in growing apprehension. “Masters, what would ye?” she repeated.

“Aught you have worthy a man’s honest hunger, good dame,” answered Jocelyn.

“Cogsnails!” exclaimed his companion, sniffing daintily potwards, “yonder breathes delectable savour!”

“Why, sirs, there be shin o’ beef a-stewing, but I can serve ye wi’ haunch o’ venison cold, or ham, sirs, smoked and a sallet new-plucked——”

“ ’Sheart!” exclaimed Florian, rolling eyes ecstatic. “Have at ’em one and all, Mistress! Sweet soul bustle, prithee bustle lest we——” he paused as borne to them from the sunny garden came a voice in song, very sweet and clear, then was sound of light feet and in flashed the singer and seemed to bring sunshine with her.

“Oh, Margery,” she began. “Oh, Meg, I——” but now espying the strangers, she stopped in pretty confusion and stood a thing of radiant beauty from slim foot to shining hair; now, by one ear was silky tress tied with small bow of blue ribbon. She glanced at Captain Jocelyn, she looked at handsome young Florian and drooped long lashes only to raise them and look again. The Captain bowed and turned to doff his tattered cloak, Florian stared, scarce breathing, as one who saw a vision, then swept her such obeisance as was out of all match with his shabby seeming.

“Lady ... lady ...” he stammered. “Vision of loveliness——”

“Ha, lady quotha?” cried Dame Margery. “Out on thee, young master! Thou, Cecily, fie on’t, begone to thy churn!”

“Nay, dear mine Aunt,” answered the Vision serenely. “I am here to thine aid, so chide not thy dutiful niece. Shall I lay table for these ... travellers?”

“No, no!” cried the Dame, patting flour from her shapely arms. “Good lack no! ’Twill never do ... I will!” But the Vision, nothing heedful, tripped lightly about the business, while young Florian watched her in very transport, and the good dame, sighing, showed so strangely apprehensive that Jocelyn spoke her in his kindest tone:

“Abate your fears of us, worthy dame, my comrade and I are something better than we seem, i’ faith the worst of us lieth to sight, dust and out-worn clothes!”

He smiled, and Dame Margery, quick to sense the honesty of him, bobbed a curtsey and answered murmuring:

“Your pardon, sir, but this is a tavern and she ... there came four men but yesterday, and gentlemen all ... yet so shamed, so frighted her ... and my John away as now, I was forced to take the spit to ’em, ay marry did I! They vowed to come again and, sir, I was afeard you was o’ their services.”

“Not so, mistress. Plain travellers we intent on food and nought other.”

“Then food ye shall have, sir, ay and of the best I’ll warrant ye.”

Thus presently seated at well-laden table in remote corner, the friends began their meal with hearty appetite though Florian often turned to gaze through the open lattice where the maid Cecily moved and sang amid the flowers.

“Saw ye ever sweeter maid, Jocelyn?” sighed he, at last.

“Once!” answered the Captain. “Prithee pass the ale!”

“Heard ye ever name so sweet?”

“I have so!” nodded Jocelyn. “Essay this spiced beef, ’tis rarely flavoured.”

“But how, friend Jocelyn, how should maid so fair bloom in rustic ale-house, think ye?”

“Flowers spring where they will, Florian. And this venison deserveth well.”

“And she beareth herself sweetly proud, like one of degree, Jocelyn.”

“Why then eat, man, for we’ve longish ride afore us.”

And, after some while, their hungers appeased, Jocelyn sighed and spoke in hushed tones.

“Florian, we are listed in venture that promiseth. Here, comrade,” and he tapped the breast of his doublet, “is the wherewithal to our equipments.”

“And who is the fortunate wight so blessed to purchase thy service, sir?”

“Our services, Florian! And ‘sir’ me not. She is a woman.”

“Sayst thou? What’s her will of us?”

“To snatch pigeon from flock o’ carrion kites, lad.”

“Well and good!” nodded Florian, bright eyes a-dance. “So feathers shall fly anon! But, sir ... that is, dear my friend, prithee when, how, who and what?”

“Briefly, Florian, we are by doating sister hired to protect—and mark me, in his own despite,—a lordly fool from arrant knavish gentry. For thy ‘how’ of it,—hum! I suggest by force o’ kidnappery, arts wheedlesome, or wile strategic. As to thy ‘who and what’—this fool is, ’twould seem, a peevish, pampered youth, my lord the Earl of Aldrington, yet, though a lord, there may be hope for him since he is very young.”

“Ay, and how must we set about it, Jocelyn?”

“As chance offers. For amongst these my lord’s knavish friends and gossips are duellists of repute, comrade, gamblers desperate as skilful, with polished foists, fine cheats and sharpers delicate yet all accounted gentlemen o’ repute.”

“Oh rare!” murmured Florian, white teeth agleam. “To out-cheat these cheaters!”

“Ay so, we may show ’em some novel arts of dicery, lad, a bale o’ bristles, langret, gourd and fullam, the longs and shorts on’t, ha?”

“And for these duellists ... thou, Jocelyn! Aha, thou and I!” And now, though his white teeth still gleamed, his smoothly handsome face took on such joyous ferocity that the Captain raised protesting hand; quoth he:

“Nay, Florian, here shall be moderation in fatality, for, and perpend! To kill rogue in Flanders may be very well, to slay gentlemen in Paris for point of honour is there esteemed gentle pastime, but here in England he that in duello kills never so honourably is yet, in some sort, accountable for his dead. Thus, seest thou, an fight we must I counsel we effuse them only, wing them merely—sufficient to purpose. We must be philosophers of the sword, thou and I, to make of it pointed argument shall persuade villainy to virtue and teach crass folly something of wisdom, so shall——” he paused to sound of hasty feet, and into the quiet chamber a man came running who, reaching the wide hearth, snatched thence a long-barrelled petronel or dag and with this fierce gripped, glared towards the open door, very desperately.

“Friend,” enquired the Captain, “what’s to do?”

The man started and espying the two, came hurrying, his square, honest face dark with trouble.

“Good my masters,” said he, quick-breathing and a-tremble, “I stand in ill plight for yonder, afar, gallop riotous gentlemen four ... to work shameful thing on us. For, lookee masters, I may not bar door agin ’em since this is an inn and how shall I withstand ’em, for these be gentlemen ... very potent ... and I but humble fellow to be ruined or ’prisoned at their pleasures! Yet an they attempt the maid again, then I’ll off-stand ’em, come what may.” And he cocked the dag.

“Nay, faith,” said Jocelyn leaning across table, “here is ill thing for the like o’ thee, good fellow—suffer me!” and he drew the weapon from the man’s shaking fingers.

“But, master, how then?” cried the man. “ ’Tis all I ha’ to our defence. What must I do now?”

“Art John Bly, the landlord, I think?”

“Ay I am, sir,” answered troubled John, looking into his questioner’s kindly grey eyes.

“Well so, John,” said the Captain, laying weapon on the settle beside him, “should these troublous gentles hither come, do thou play host as is thy duty and should they prove anyways riotous, leave them to us. How sayst thou, friend John?”

“Noble sirs,” quoth he, snatching off his cap, “spite your disguisements I do perceive ye for gentles both, and am humbly grateful to your honours. But, sirs, these lawless gentry be four and all very proudly wilful and passionate, ah and of a violence, ah sirs, a violence.”

“Excellent well!” laughed Florian, and reaching his long rapier, slipped the worn balderick about him.

And now from the road was clatter of horse-hoofs, laughter, loud voices and shouts of “Host! House-ho!” whereat landlord John, his square face pale yet determined, hasted forth to his duties; but even then from behind the inn was loud hunting-cry followed by a woman’s scream and, as Florian leapt afoot, to them from the garden sped the maid Cecily, her peasant’s wimple rent by lawless hand ... a panting, weeping, desperate creature who, running for the stair, tripped and would have fallen but that Florian leapt and caught her. Now looking up into the gentle, handsome face so near her own, she cried to him in pitiful gasps:

“Oh ... let them not ... harm me!”

“Death first!” murmured Florian, reverent of look and voice. As for the Captain he sat where he was, elbows on table, chin on fist, nor moved he even when upon them burst a breathless gentleman, a person of splendour from plumed bonnet to gilded spurs who, checking pursuit, roared in full-throated glee:

“Oho Frank, Harry, aha, here’s your timorous virginity cuddling beggar-rogue!”

But even as he thus roared and laughed, Florian leapt open-handed and smote this shouter on either cheek, two cracking slaps that drove him reeling to the wall, there to lean and goggle and gasp in shocked amazement, while Jocelyn drew the terrified girl beside him on the settle and smiling comfortably, patted her small, tremulous hand.

Then the place was full of stir and babblement, cloaks fluttered, spurs rattled, feathers flaunted ... three elegant gentlemen, very arrogantly clamorous, postured and glared while their three lacqueys peered in at door and window.

“How now, Sir Thomas?” cried one, a tall, slim exquisite in short, purple cloak and small, dainty beard, “what is’t, Tom, man?”

“Yon cursed fellow ... struck me, Frank!” gasped the smitten one. “By heavens, he dared lay vile hand on me,—ha, ’sdeath, I’ll have his foul blood!”

“No, no, Tom! ’Tis an impossible rogue, a very dog, a poor thing, too contemptible for your steel. Call we our servants to whip him to his native ditch!”

But now the Captain arose and in his fist landlord John’s long-barrelled dag, quoth he in wheedling tone:

“Nay, gentle sirs, I cry ye temperence. I humbly beseech ye curb your so perilous ferocity——”

“Peace dog!” cried Sir Thomas, cherishing his smarting cheek. “Yon base villain struck me and I’ll ha’ blood for’t!”

“Well said, Tom!” cried the gentleman on his right. “The curs whine already, let’s swinge ’em roundly!” cried the gentleman on his left. “Have with thee, Tom!”

“Ha, so—let’s at ’em!” cried Sir Thomas, and out flickered their three blades. Only the fourth gentleman stood superbly aloof, arms afolded; he said:

“I smirch not my steel with such dunghilly carrion, I!”

“Cocksnails!” laughed Florian and his rapier flashed aloft in airy gasconnade; but in this moment Jocelyn spoke:

“Hold me their fiery valour in check, amigo, whiles I warn these so rash gentlemen!” and he tossed the dag to Florian who caught and levelled it at the rageful three with an airy dexterity.

“Stand, pretty poppets!” cried he, gaily. “Stretch forth your ears yet stir and speak not lest my finger twitch ye harm.” And now, freeing his sheathed rapier of its carriages, Jocelyn crossed hands upon its heavy pommel and looking mildly on these gentlemen each and every, spoke:

“Sirs, heed now my words ere upon ye bloody perils and imminent destruction rageful rush. Lo here, gentles ungentle, my comrade and I! Philosophers twain o’ the sword, we be, that go up and down in the earth teaching base humans the humanities, as to wit,—the wisdom of Meekness, the saving grace of Humility and the like virtues. And this we do by insertion of chaste steel into carcase base, thereby letting Wisdom in and Roguery out. Now ye, sirs, are three,—ye are young, base rogues that would to tender Innocence give shameful alarm. Therefore we philosophers twain do proffer ye two alternatives. Ye shall, all three, to Innocence, humbly kneeling, sue grace and meekly begone, or be forthright of this same baseness purged by steely implantation and injection,—choose ye!”

“Sa-ha!” cried Florian gaily, uncocking the dag and tossing it behind him. “Fight now, fight or crawl hence for lewd, craven curs!” And plucking dagger, he stood weapons advanced, slim body lightly poised, his smooth face fierce-smiling, agog for conflict.

A moment’s deadly pause, then, with stamp of passionate foot, Sir Thomas leapt, all whirling steel and roaring ferocity, backed by his friend. And instantly was uproar,—a wild hurly-burly of clashing steel, trampling feet, fierce shouts and exclamations, an ever-growing tumult. And amid it all, young Florian leapt and swayed, so quick of foot and hands, so supple and dexterous of body that his weapons seemed multiplied, dealing blows with darting point and close-sweeping edge, while Jocelyn, tattered cloak about left arm, watched those four twinkling blades, the one against three, interposing his sheathed rapier in cunning feint or parry at such rare times he judged his comrade anyway hard pressed.

“Oh aid ... will you not aid him!” cried Cecily in anguished tones.

“Not so, child!” answered the Captain. “ ’Twould but mar a pretty bout, ’twere to gild the lily——”

“Harry ... Harry ...” gasped a voice, “wilt see us ... murdered?”

“Blooded, sir!” retorted the Captain, “an extransudation merely——”

“Harry ... oh Hal——” wailed the voice; the fourth gentleman cast off his purple cloak, whipped forth sword, leapt to combat and reeled back, gasping, from the powerful thrust of Jocelyn’s sheathed weapon.

Jingling stamp of spurred feet, ring of steel, pant of laboured breathing ... and then came sudden end,—a rapier fell clattering, Sir Thomas, crying hoarsely, reeled to the wall, clasping bloody arm, whereat his two friends, lowering their points, stepped back and leaned beside him in breathless, sweating dishevellment, their prideful arrogance quite gone. The Captain, sitting on corner of table, swung a long leg; Florian, wiping moist brow, frowned and, having fetched his breath, spoke:

“So, my poppets, bold mannikins that would raise riots and fright tender maids, is’t enough then? Are ye done thus early? Then march, rustical bullies, off to your kennels. And you, sirrah Tom, speed before and do your bleeding outside. Begone! lest I be minded to rid the earth o’ such base, doggish knaves!”

And when these four gentlemen, their four lacqueys attendant, had departed very silently, each and every, came honest John with his buxom dame very earnest in their gratitude, but of the maid Cecily, the lovely cause of this to-do, no sign.

Therefore Florian stole out into the garden while Jocelyn talked with Dame Margery and landlord John; quoth he:

“Tell me, friend John, is not this tavern on my lord of Aldrington’s land?”

“Ay, marry is it, sir!” nodded John. “All the ground be his so far as eye may see hereabouts. But th’earl be away to Court and London nowadays, since when things do be changing, sir——”

“Ay, from bad to worse!” sighed Dame Margery.

“Prithee, how?”

“ ’Tis Master Denzil, sir, my lord’s chief bailiff,—he were ever a summat hard gentleman, but o’ late ’e do seem harder——”

“ ’Specially to we folk in Southdean!” said Dame Margery.

“Raised the rents he have, sir!” sighed John. “Ah, and the market dues. And, sir, ’tis told as he be minded to sell land hereabouts—ah, and the old ‘Peck o’ Malt’ wi’ it and all to Sir Thomas Vincent, him as your friend run through the arm so sweet and proper.”

“Doth the earl know o’ this?”

“I’ fegs, sir, ’tis Master Denzil ruleth since the old lord died. Oh, but yon were the days, sir, in the old lord’s time! But now——”

“Ay, now,” said Jocelyn rising, “I’m for the road. But lookee, friends, ’tis in my mind the good days may, peradventure, come again,—so bid Care hence likewise.” Then, having paid the score, he donned cloak and hallooed to Florian who came forthwith.

So they got to horse and away through the golden morning; the Captain very silent, pondering ways and means, but Florian glad as the day for, as they rode, his hand crept often within his frayed jerkin where, upon his heart, lay a little knot of blue ribbon.