Sir Quixote of the Moors Page 4

  CHAPTER II.

  I FARE BADLY INDOORS.

  I dropped wearily from my horse and stumbled forward to the door. 'Twasclose shut, but rays of light came through the chinks at the foot, and thegreat light in the further window lit up the ground for some yards. Iknocked loudly with my sword-hilt. Stillness seemed to reign within, savethat from some distant room a faint sound of men's voices was brought. Amost savory smell stole out to the raw air and revived my hunger withhopes of supper.

  Again I knocked, this time rudely, and the door rattled on its hinges. Thisbrought some signs of life from within. I could hear a foot on the stonefloor of a passage, a bustling as of many folk running hither and thither,and a great barking of a sheep-dog. Of a sudden the door was flung open, awarm blaze of light rushed forth, and I stood blinking before the master ofthe house.

  He was a tall, grizzled man of maybe fifty years, thin, with a stoop in hisback that all hill-folk have, and a face brown with sun and wind. I judgedhim fifty, but he may have been younger by ten years, for in that desertmen age the speedier. His dress was dirty and ragged in many places, and inone hand he carried a pistol, which he held before him as if forprotection. He stared at me for a second.

  "Wha are ye that comes dirlin' here on sic a nicht?" said he, and I givehis speech as I remember it. As he uttered the words, he looked me keenlyin the face, and I felt his thin, cold glance piercing to the roots of mythoughts. I liked the man ill, for, what with his lean figure and sourcountenance, he was far different from the jovial, well-groomed fellows whowill give you greeting at any wayside inn from Calais to Bordeaux.

  "You ask a strange question, and one little needing answer. If a man haswandered for hours in bog-holes, he will be in no mind to stand chafferingat inn doors. I seek a night's lodging for my horse and myself."

  "It's little we can give you, for it's a bare, sinfu' land," said he, "butsuch as I ha'e ye're welcome to. Bide a minute, and I'll bring a licht totak' ye to the stable."

  He was gone down the passage for a few seconds, and returned with arushlight encased against the wind in a wicker covering. The storm made itflicker and flare till it sent dancing shadows over the dark walls of thehouse. The stable lay round by the back end, and thither poor Saladin andhis master stumbled over a most villainous rough ground. The place, whenfound, was no great thing to boast of--a cold shed, damp with rain, withblaffs of wind wheezing through it; and I was grieved to think of myhorse's nightly comfort. The host snatched from a rack a truss of hay,which by its smell was old enough, and tossed it into the manger. "There yeare, and it's mair than mony a Christian gets in thae weary days."

  Then he led the way back into the house. We entered a draughty passagewith a window at one end, broken in part, through which streamed the coldair. A turn brought me into a little square room, where a fire flickeredand a low lamp burned on the table. 'Twas so home-like and peaceful that myheart went out to it, and I thanked my fate for the comfortable lodging Ihad chanced on. Mine host stirred the blaze and bade me strip off my wetgarments. He fetched me an armful of rough homespuns, but I cared little toput them on, so I e'en sat in my shirt and waited on the drying of my coat.My mother's portrait, the one by Grizot, which I have had set in gold andwear always near my heart, dangled to my lap, and I took this for an evilomen. I returned it quick to its place, the more so because I saw thelandlord's lantern-jaw close at the sight, and his cold eyes twinkle. Had Ibeen wise, too, I would have stripped my rings from my fingers ere I beganthis ill-boding travel, for it does not behoove a gentleman to besojourning among beggars with gold about him.

  "Have ye come far the day?" the man asked, in his harsh voice. "Ye'regey-like splashed wi' dirt, so I jalouse ye cam ower the _Angels Ladder_."

  "Angel's ladder!" quoth I, "devil's ladder I call it! for a moreblackguardly place I have not clapped eyes on since I first mountedhorse."

  "_Angel's Ladder_ they call it," said the man, to all appearance neverheeding my words, "for there, mony a year syne, an holy man of God, oneEbenezer Clavershaws, preached to a goodly gathering on the shining ladderseen by the patriarch Jacob at Bethel, which extended from earth to heaven.'Twas a rich discourse, and I have it still in my mind."

  "'Twas more likely to have been a way to the Evil One for me. Had I butgone a further step many a time, I should have been giving my account erethis to my Maker. But a truce to this talk. 'Twas not to listen to suchthat I came here; let me have supper, the best you have, and a bottle ofwhatever wine you keep in this accursed place. Burgundy is my choice."

  "Young man," the fellow said gravely, looking at me with his unpleasingeyes, "you are one who loves the meat that perisheth rather than theunsearchable riches of God's grace. Oh, be warned while yet there is time.You know not the delights of gladsome communion wi' Him, which makes themoss-hags and heather-bushes more fair than the roses of Sharon or thebalmy plains of Gilead. Oh, be wise and turn, for now is the accepted time,now is the day of salvation!"

  _Sacre'!_ what madman have I fallen in with, thought I, who talks in thisfashion. I had heard of the wild deeds of those in our own land who callthemselves Huguenots, and I was not altogether without fear. But myappetite was keen, and my blood was never of the coolest.

  "Peace with your nonsense, sirrah," I said sternly; "what man are you whocome and prate before your guests, instead of fetching their supper? Let mehave mine at once, and no more of your Scripture."

  As I spoke, I looked him angrily in the face, and my bearing must have hadsome effect upon him, for he turned suddenly and passed out.

  A wench appeared, a comely slip of a girl, with eyes somewhat dazed andtimorous, and set the table with viands. There was a moor-fowl,well-roasted and tasty to the palate, a cut of salted beef, and for wine, abottle of French claret of excellent quality. 'Twas so much in excess of myexpectation, that I straightway fell into a good humor, and the black cloudof dismay lifted in some degree from my wits. I filled my glass and lookedat it against the fire-glow, and dreamed that 'twas an emblem of the aftercourse of my life. Who knew what fine things I might come to yet, thoughnow I was solitary in a strange land?

  The landlord came in and took away the remnants himself. He looked at mefixedly more than once, and in his glance I read madness, greed, andhatred. I feared his look, and was glad to see him leave, for he made mefeel angry and a little awed. However, thought I, 'tis not the first time Ihave met a churlish host, and I filled my glass again.

  The fire bickered cheerily, lighting up the room and comforting my coldskin. I drew my chair close and stretched out my legs to the blaze, till ina little, betwixt heat and weariness, I was pleasantly drowsy. I fell tothinking of the events of the day and the weary road I had traveled; thento an earlier time, when I first came to Scotland, and my hopes were stillunbroken. After all this I began to mind me of the pleasant days in France;for, though I had often fared ill enough there, all was forgotten but thegood fortune; and I had soon built out of my brain a France which was likerParadise than anywhere on earth. Every now and then a log would crackle orfall, and so wake me with a start, for the fire was of that sort which iscommon in hilly places--a great bank of peat with wood laid athwart. Blue,pungent smoke came out in rings and clouds, which smelt gratefully in mynostrils after the black out-of-doors.

  By and by, what with thinking of the past, what with my present comfort,and what with an ever hopeful imagination, my prospects came to look lessdismal. 'Twas true that I was here in a most unfriendly land with littlemoney and no skill of the country. But Scotland was but a little place,after all. I must come to Leith in time, where I could surely meet a Frenchskipper who would take me over, money or no. You will ask, whoever maychance to read this narrative, why, in Heaven's name, I did not turn and goback to Ayr, the port from which I had come? The reason is not far toseek. The whole land behind me stank in my nostrils, for there dweltQuentin Kennedy, and there lay the scene of my discomfiture and mysufferings. Faugh! the smell of that wretched moor road is with me yet. So,with thinking one w
ay and another, I came to a decision to go forward inany case, and trust to God and my own good fortune. After this I must haveceased to have any thoughts, and dropped off snugly to sleep.

  I wakened, at what time I know not, shivering, with a black fire before myknees. The room was black with darkness, save where through a chink in thewindow-shutter there came a gleam of pale moonlight. I sprang up in hasteand called for a servant to show me to my sleeping room, but the nextsecond I could have wished the word back, for I feared that no servantwould be awake and at hand. To my mind there seemed something passingstrange in thus leaving a guest to slumber by the fire.

  To my amazement, the landlord himself came to my call, bearing a light inhis hand. I was reasonably surprised, for though I knew not the hour of thenight, I judged from the state of the fire that it must have been faradvanced. "I had fallen asleep," I said, in apology, "and now would finishwhat I have begun. Show me my bed."

  "It'll be a dark nicht and a coorse, out-bye," said the man, as he led theway solemnly from the room, up a rickety stair, down a mirk passage to achamber which, from the turnings of the house, I guessed to be facing theeast. 'Twas a comfortless place, and ere I could add a word I found the manleaving the room with the light. "You'll find your way to bed in the dark,"quoth he, and I was left in blackness.

  I sat down on the edge of the bed, half-stupid with sleep, my teethchattering with the cold, listening to the gusts of wind battering againstthe little window. 'Faith! thought I, this is the worst entertainment Iever had, and I have made trial of many. Yet I need not complain, for Ihave had a good fire and a royal supper, and my present dis-comfort is duein great part to my own ill habit of drowsiness. I rose to undress, for mybones were sore after the long day's riding, when, by some chance, I movedforward to the window and opened it to look on the night.

  'Twas wintry weather outside, though but the month of August. The face ofthe hills fronting me were swathed in white mist, which hung low even tothe banks of the stream. There was a great muttering in the air of swollenwater, for the rain had ceased, and the red waves were left to roll downthe channel to the lowlands and make havoc of meadow and steading. The skywas cumbered with clouds, and no clear light of the moon came through; butsince 'twas nigh the time of the full moon the night was not utterly dark.

  I lingered for maybe five minutes in this posture, and then I heard thatwhich made me draw in my head and listen the more intently. A thud ofhorses' hoofs on the wet ground came to my ear. A second, and it wasplainer, the noise of some half-dozen riders clearly approaching the inn.'Twas a lonesome place, and I judged it strange that company should come solate.

  I flung myself on the bed in my clothes, and could almost have fallenasleep as I was, so weary was my body. But there was that in my mind whichforbade slumber, a vague uneasiness as of some ill approaching, which itbehooved me to combat. Again and again I tried to drive it from me as merecowardice, but again it returned to vex me. There was nothing for it butthat I should lie on my back and bide what might come.

  Then again I heard a sound, this time from a room beneath. 'Twas as if menwere talking softly, and moving to and fro. My curiosity was completelyaroused, and I thought it no shame to my soldierly honor to slip from myroom and gather what was the purport of their talk. At such a time, and insuch a place, it boded no good for me, and the evil face of the landlordwas ever in my memory. The staircase creaked a little as it felt my weight,but it had been built for heavier men, and I passed it in safety. Clearlythe visitors were in the room where I had supped.

  "Will we ha'e muckle wark wi' him, think ye?" I heard one man ask.

  "Na, na," said another, whom I knew for mine host, "he's a foreigner, a manfrae a fremt land, and a' folk ken they're little use. Forbye, I had stocko' him mysel', and I think I could mak' his bit ribs crack thegither. He'llno' be an ill customer to deal wi'."

  "But will he no' be a guid hand at the swird? There's no yin o' us heremuckle at that."

  "Toots," said another, "we'll e'en get him intil a corner, where he'll nogit leave to stir an airm."

  I had no stomach for more. With a dull sense of fear I crept back to myroom, scarce heeding in my anger whether I made noise or not. Good God!thought I, I have traveled by land and sea to die in a moorland alehouse bythe hand of common robbers! My heart grew hot at the thought of thelandlord, for I made no doubt but it was my jewels that had first set histeeth. I loosened my sword in its scabbard; and now I come to think ofit,'twas a great wonder that it had not been taken away from me while Islept. I could only guess that the man had been afraid to approach mebefore the arrival of his confederates. I gripped my sword-hilt; ah, howoften had I felt its touch under kindlier circumstances--when I slew theboar in the woods at Belmont, when I made the Sieur de Biran crave pardonbefore my feet, when I----But peace with such memories! At all events, ifJean de Rohaine must die among ruffians, unknown and forgotten, he wouldfinish his days like a gentleman of courage. I prayed to God that I mightonly have the life of the leader.

  But this world is sweet to all men, and as I awaited death in that darkroom, it seemed especially fair to live. I was but in the prime of my age,on the near side of forty, hale in body, a master of the arts and graces.Were it not passing hard that I should perish in this wise? I looked everyway for a means of escape. There was but one--the little window whichlooked upon the ground east of the inn. 'Twas just conceivable that a manmight leap it and make his way to the hills, and so baffle his pursuers.Two thoughts deterred me; first, that I had no horse and could not continuemy journey; second, that in all likelihood there would be a watch setbelow. My heart sank within me, and I ceased to think.

  For, just at that moment, I heard a noise below as of men leaving the room.I shut my lips and waited. Here, I concluded, is death coming to meet me.But the next moment the noise had stopped, and 'twas evident that theconclave was not yet closed. 'Tis a strange thing, the mind of man, for I,who had looked with despair at my chances a minute agone, now, at thepassing of this immediate danger, plucked up heart, clapped my hat on myhead, and opened the window.

  The night air blew chill, but all seemed silent below. So, very carefully Ihung over the ledge, gripped the sill with my hands, swung my legs into theair, and dropped. I lighted on a tussock of grass and rolled over on myside, only to recover myself in an instant and rise to my feet, and,behold, at my side, a tall man keeping sentinel on horseback.

  At this the last flicker of hope died in my bosom. The man never moved orspake, but only stared fixedly at me. Yet there was that in his face andbearing which led me to act as I did.

  "If you are a man of honor," I burst out, "though you are engaged in anaccursed trade, dismount and meet me in combat. Your spawn will not be outfor a little time, and the night is none so dark. If I must die, I woulddie at least in the open air, with my foe before me."

  My words must have found some answering chord in the man's breast, for hepresently spoke, and asked me my name and errand in the countryside. I toldhim in a dozen words, and at my tale he shrugged his shoulders.

  "I am in a great mind," says he, "to let you go. I am all but sick of thisbutcher work, and would fling it to the winds at a word. 'Tis well enoughfor the others, who are mongrel bred, but it ill becomes a man of birthlike me, who am own cousin to the Maxwells o' Drurie."

  He fell for a very little time into a sort of musing, tugging at his beardlike a man in perplexity. Then he spoke out suddenly:

  "See you yon tuft of willows by the water? There's a space behind it wherea horse and man might stand well concealed. There is your horse," and hepointed to a group of horses standing tethered by the roadside; "lead himto the place I speak of, and trust to God for the rest. I will raise ascare that you're off the other airt, and, mind, that whenever you see thetails o' us, you mount and ride for life in the way I tell you. You shouldwin to Drumlanrig by morning, where there are quieter folk. Now, mind mybidding, and dae't before my good will changes."

  "May God do so to you in your extremity! I
f ever I meet you on earth Iwill repay you for your mercy. But a word with you. Who is that man?" and Ipointed to the house.

  The fellow laughed dryly. "It's easy seen you're no acquaint here, or youwould ha'e heard o' Long Jock o' the Hirsel. There's mony a man would facethe devil wi' a regiment o' dragoons at his back, that would flee at aglint from Jock's een. You're weel quit o' him. But be aff afore the folkare stirring."

  I needed no second bidding, but led Saladin with all speed to the willows,where I made him stand knee-deep in the water within cover of the trees,while I crouched by his side. 'Twas none too soon, for I was scarce inhiding when I heard a great racket in the house, and the sound of menswearing and mounting horse. There was a loud clattering of hoofs, whichshortly died away, and left the world quiet, save for the broil of thestream and the loud screaming of moorbirds.