Part 14 (2/2)

So Sir Andrew sent out messengers who reported it to be true that Acour had ridden straight to London to see the King and then sail for Dover.

Also they said that no Frenchmen were left at Blythburgh save those who would never leave the place again, and that Sir John Clavering lay sick in his bed at the manor.

”G.o.d fights for us!” said Sir Andrew with a little laugh. ”This Acour's greeting at Court may be warmer than he thinks and at the least you and Dunwich are well rid of him. Though I had sooner that you stayed here, to-morrow, daughter, you shall ride to Blythburgh. Should your father die, as I think he will ere long, it might grieve you in the after years to remember that you had bid him no farewell. If he recovers or is harsh with you it will be easy for you to seek sanctuary again.”

CHAPTER VII

THE LOVE PHILTRE

So it came about that on the morrow Eve and Sir Andrew, accompanied only by a single serving man, fearing no guile since it seemed certain that the Frenchmen were so far away, rode across the moor to Blythburgh. At the manor-house they found the drawbridge up. The watchman at the gate said also that his orders were to admit none, for the Frenchmen being gone, there were but few to guard the place.

”What, good fellow,” asked Eve, ”not even the daughter of the house who has heard that her father lies so sick?”

”Ay, he lies sick, lady,” the man replied, ”but such are his orders. Yet if you will bide here a while, I'll go and learn his mind.”

So he went and returned presently, saying that Sir John commanded that his daughter was to be admitted, but that if Sir Andrew attempted to enter he should be driven back by force.

”Will you go in or will you return with me?” asked her companion of Eve.

”G.o.d's truth!” she answered, ”am I one to run away from my father, however bad his humour? I'll go in and set my case before him, for after all he loves me in his own fas.h.i.+on and when he understands will, I think, relent.”

”Your heart is your best guide, daughter, and it would be an ill task for me to stand between sire and child. Enter then, for I am sure that the Saints and your own innocence will protect you from all harm. At the worst you can come or send to me for help.”

So they parted, and the bridge having been lowered, Eve walked boldly to her father's sleeping chamber, where she was told he lay. As she approached the door she met several of the household leaving it with scared faces, who scarcely stayed to salute her. Among these were two servants of her dead brother John, men whom she had never liked, and a woman, the wife of one of them, whom she liked least of all.

Pus.h.i.+ng open the door, which was shut behind her, she advanced toward Sir John, who was not, as she had thought, in bed, but clad in a furred robe and standing by the hearth, on which burnt a fire. He watched her come, but said no word, and the look of him frightened her somewhat.

”Father,” she said, ”I heard that you were sick and alone----”

”Ay,” he broke in, ”sick, very sick here,” and he laid his hand upon his heart, ”where grief strikes a man. Alone, too, since you and your fellow have done my only son to death, murdered my guests, and caused them to depart from so b.l.o.o.d.y a house.”

Now Eve, who had come expecting to find her father at the point of death and was prepared to plead with him, at these violent words took fire as was her nature.

”You know well that you speak what is not true,” she said. ”You and your Frenchmen strove to burn us out of Middle Marsh; my brother John struck Hugh de Cressi as though he were a dog and used words toward him that no knave would bear, let alone one better born than we are. Moreover, afterward once he spared his life, and Grey d.i.c.k, standing alone against a crowd, did but use his skill to save us. Is it murder, then to protect our honour and to save ourselves from death? And am I wrong to refuse to marry a fine French knave when I chance to love an honest man?”

”And, pray, am I your father, girl, that you dare to scold at me thus?”

shouted Sir John, growing purple with wrath. ”If I choose a husband for you, by what right do you refuse him, saying that you love a Dunwich shop-boy? Down on your knees and beg my pardon, or you shall have the whipping you have earned.”

Now Eve's black eyes glittered dangerously.

”Ill would it go with any man who dared to lay a hand upon me,” she said, drawing herself up and grasping the dagger in her girdle. ”Yes, very ill, even though he were my own father. Look at me and say am I one to threaten? Ay, and before you answer bear in mind that there are those at my call who can strike hard, and that among them I think you'll find the King of England.”

She paused.

”What h.e.l.lish plot is this that you hatch against me?” asked Sir John, with some note of doubt in his voice. ”What have I to fear from my liege lord, the King of England?”

<script>