Part 32 (1/2)

”Simon,” said Aylward, ”the light is not overgood and the place is cramped for sword-play, but if you will step out into the open I will teach you whether my master is a true soldier or not.”

”Tut, man! you are as foolish yourself,” said Simon. ”Here we are with our work in hand, and yet you must needs fall out with me on our way to it. I say nothing against your master save that he hath the way of his fellows who follow dreams and fancies. But Knolles looks neither to right nor left and walks forward to his mark. Now, let us on, for the time pa.s.ses.”

”Simon, your words are neither good nor fair. When we are back on s.h.i.+pboard we will speak further of this matter. Now lead on, I pray you, and let us see some more of this ten-devil island.”

For half a mile Simon led the way until they came to a large house which stood by itself. Peering at it from the edge of the cutting, Aylward could see that it was made from the wreckage of many vessels, for at each corner a prow was thrust out. Lights blazed within, and there came the sound of a strong voice singing a gay song which was taken up by a dozen others in the chorus.

”All is well, lad!” whispered Simon in great delight. ”That is the voice of the King. It is the very song he used to sing. 'Les deux filles de Pierre.' 'Fore G.o.d, my back tingles at the very sound of it. Here we will wait until his company take their leave.”

Hour after hour they crouched in the peat-cutting, listening to the noisy songs of the revelers within, some French, some English, and all growing fouler and less articulate as the night wore on. Once a quarrel broke out and the clamor was like a cageful of wild beasts at feeding-time. Then a health was drunk and there was much stamping and cheering.

Only once was the long vigil broken. A woman came forth from the house and walked up and down, with her face sunk upon her breast. She was tall and slender, but her features could not be seen for a wimple over her head. Weary sadness could be read in her bowed back and dragging steps.

Once only they saw her throw her two hands up to Heaven as one who is beyond human aid. Then she pa.s.sed slowly into the house again. A moment later the door of the hall was flung open, and a shouting stumbling throng came crowding forth, with whoop and yell, into the silent night. Linking arms and striking up a chorus, they marched past the peat-cutting, their voices dwindling slowly away as they made for their homes.

”Now, Samkin, now!” cried Simon, and jumping out from the hiding-place he made for the door. It had not yet been fastened. The two comrades sprang inside. Then Simon drew the bolts so that none might interrupt them.

A long table littered with flagons and beakers lay before them. It was lit up by a line of torches, which flickered and smoked in their iron sconces. At the farther end a solitary man was seated. His head rested upon his two hands, as if he were befuddled with wine, but at the harsh sound of the snapping bolts he raised his face and looked angrily around him. It was a strange powerful head, tawny and s.h.a.ggy like a lion's, with a tangled beard and a large harsh face, bloated and blotched with vice. He laughed as the newcomers entered, thinking that two of his boon companions had returned to finish a flagon. Then he stared hard and he pa.s.sed his hand over his eyes like one who thinks he may be dreaming.

”Mon Dieu!” he cried. ”Who are you and whence come you at this hour of the night? Is this the way to break into our royal presence?”

Simon approached up one side of the table and Aylward up the other. When they were close to the King, the man-at-arms plucked a torch from its socket and held it to his own face. The King staggered back with a cry, as he gazed at that grim visage.

”Le diable noir!” he cried. ”Simon, the Englishman! What make you here?”

Simon put his hand upon his shoulder. ”Sit here!” said he, and he forced the King into his seat. ”Do you sit on the farther side of him, Aylward.

We make a merry group, do we not? Often have I served at this table, but never did I hope to drink at it. Fill your cup, Samkin, and pa.s.s the flagon.”

The King looked from one to the other with terror in his bloodshot eyes.

”What would you do?” he asked. ”Are you mad, that you should come here.

One shout and you are at my mercy.”

”Nay, my friend, I have lived too long in your house not to know the ways of it. No man-servant ever slept beneath your roof, for you feared lest your throat would be cut in the night-time. You may shout and shout, if it so please you. It chanced that I was pa.s.sing on my way from England in those s.h.i.+ps which lie off La Brechou, and I thought I would come in and have speech with you.”

”Indeed, Simon, I am right glad to see you,” said the King, cringing away from the fierce eyes of the soldier. ”We were good friends in the past, were we not, and I cannot call to mind that I have ever done you injury. When you made your way to England by swimming to the Levantine there was none more glad in heart than I!”

”If I cared to doff my doublet I could show you the marks of what your friends.h.i.+p has done for me in the past,” said Simon. ”It is printed on my back as clearly as on my memory. Why, you foul dog, there are the very rings upon the wall to which my hands were fastened, and there the stains upon the boards on which my blood has dripped! Is it not so, you king of butchers?”

The pirate chief turned whiter still. ”It may be that life here was somewhat rough, Simon, but if I have wronged you in anyway, I will surely make amends. What do you ask?”

”I ask only one thing, and I have come hither that I may get it. It is that you pay me forfeit for that you have lost your wager.”

”My wager, Simon! I call to mind no wager.”

”But I will call it to your mind, and then I will take my payment. Often have you sworn that you would break my courage. 'By my head!' you have cried to me. 'You will crawl at my feet!' and again: 'I will wager my head that I will tame you!' Yes, yes, a score of times you have said so.

In my heart, as I listened, I have taken up your gage. And now, dog, you have lost and I am here to claim the forfeit.”

His long heavy sword flew from its sheath. The King, with a howl of despair, flung his arms round him, and they rolled together under the table. Aylward sat with a ghastly face, and his toes curled with horror at the sight, for he was still new to scenes of strife and his blood was too cold for such a deed. When Simon rose he tossed something into his bag and sheathed his b.l.o.o.d.y sword.