The Knight of the Golden Melice Part 25

"It is my dearest wish that thou shouldst feel the full force of the obligation they impose on thee."

"Do I not?" Have I not labored with untiring diligence to promote the end we both have in view? Wherein have I failed? Point out the error, and I will correct it."

"I do not presume to be so bold. The masculine energy of Sir Christopher Gardiner is not to be guided by a woman."

"Alas! Celestina," said the Knight, with some feeling, "were we not joined in this holy enterprise because it was supposed the fulness of the one might supply the deficiency of the other? O, turn not away so coldly."

"My warm devotion, my active zeal, shall never be wanting to the work whereunto we are pledged; and if any feeling hath arisen inconsistent with the harmony that should unite us, I am not sensible that it springs from any fault of mine. But you exaggerate," she added, smiling, "my momentary sadness into unnecessary importance--a sadness wherewith thou mayst have no connection."

"Thou canst not deceive me, Celestina. I have profited little by the lessons of this world, and feeling was given me in vain, were I incapable of noticing the change in thee. There was a time when thy spirit, like a musical string in accord with another, vibrated in harmony with mine--but it is no longer so."

"Thou art importunate, Sir Christopher. Wilt thou not believe what I say?"

"Pardon me if I am over urgent, and ascribe it to the value I attach to my lost treasure. It sweetened the solitude of exile, and made me almost forget the attractions of stirring Europe. But thou dost not, and canst not deny my complaint."

"Is there not enough in the circ.u.mstances wherein I am placed, to agitate the timid heart of a woman, and account for her unreasonable caprices? Why persist in connecting them with thyself as the cause?"

"This is not the first time that I have vainly endeavored to discover wherein I have offended, that by the humiliation of myself, or by any other means, I might restore the unison that before existed between us. I conjure thee, Celestina," he said, approaching and taking her hand into one of his, while with the other he drew back a curtain on the wall, which, on being withdrawn, exposed to view the carved figure of Christ extended on the cross, "by the Captain of our faith, whose soldiers we are, to put away this estrangement, which if it does not defeat, may hazard and r.e.t.a.r.d our mutual plans."

The lady withdrew not her hand, but allowing it to remain in his, stood up. She bowed her head before the crucifix, and murmured--_Domino Jesu speravi in te_. Turning then to the Knight she said--

"Sir Christopher, look upon that sorrowful face, and that drooping head, bleeding under the points of the accursed thorns. Thy sins and mine gave them their sharpness. Gaze upon the hideous nails that pierce those blessed hands and feet, and upon the blood trickling from that divine side, and say, canst thou be untrue to him?"

"Woman! Celestina! what meanest thou? Why this solemn adjuration?"

"Thou wert dedicated to a service," she continued, her pale face flus.h.i.+ng with enthusiasm, "to which n.o.bles and kings, the proudest and n.o.blest of earth, might aspire. Do thy devoir, and incalculable will be thy reward; fail therein, and the doom of Judas were heaven to thy fate."

"Thou art mad, Celestina. Some dreadful delusion hath blinded thy understanding. Hear me now"--and he bent down and kissed the feet of the image of the Saviour, and then raising his head fixed his eyes upon it--"per adventum tuum, per nativitatem tuam, per baptismum et sanctum jejunium tuum, per crucem et pa.s.sionem tuam, per mortem et sepulturam tuam, per sanctam resurrectionem tuam, et per admirabilem ascensionem tuam--I am guilty, truly, of weakness and ignorance, and unintentional sin, but not of want of faithfulness to that whereunto thou hast called me."

"Sir Christopher! Oh! Sir Christopher," cried the lady, falling at his feet, "Wherefore, when I besought thee before to explain thy conduct, did you treat me so slightingly? Wherefore ever refuse to satisfy my questions?"

"Because I considered them unworthy of thee and me; because I regarded them as the petulance of a pa.s.sing feminine curiosity; because I knew not how serious was thy desire?

"_Deus adjuva me!_" sobbed the lady.

"Rise, my sister," said the Knight, a.s.sisting her to a seat.

"Henceforth let no distrust exist between us, and, that it may be so, inquire, and I will answer as at the confessional."

Of the conversation which ensued we shall give no account, save that, at its conclusion, tears were flowing plentifully from the eyes of the lady, while the Knight seemed puzzled at her extraordinary emotion.

"Celestina," he said, "thou art moved beyond what thy venial fault requires. Forgive thyself as freely as I forgive thee."

"Thou knowest not all my sin," she answered, "nor dare I trust it to the air, lest my own words should strike me dead. _Sancta Maria, ora pro n.o.bis!_"

When the Knight left the room, she fell upon her knees before the crucifix and buried her face in her hands. She remained in this position for perhaps a quarter of an hour, during which time only an occasional sob escaped her, and then rising, pa.s.sed into an inner chamber.

As for Sir Christopher, neither did he make his appearance until late in the afternoon, when he emerged from the house in the company of the soldier Joy and the Indian, whom he called Mesandowit. The course they took was in a northerly direction, and as they proceeded, the Knight was engaged in earnest conversation with the Indian. In this manner they went on long after the sun had set, even until the position of the stars announced that the hour of midnight was at hand. There must have been some danger to the savage feared by the Knight to induce him to lend his escort thus far. But they met nothing to excite apprehension. Silence reigned throughout the unviolated forest, unbroken save by the cry of a night bird, or the stealthy step of some wild beast stealing through the thickets, or the cracking of dry branches under their own feet, or their murmured conversation. It was at least six hours since they left the house of the Knight, and the distance pa.s.sed over could not be less than eighteen or twenty miles.

The three stopped, and, before parting, it seemed that the Knight was desirous of impressing more strongly on the mind of his red companion something which he had already been urging.

"Has what I have said sunk into the ears of Mesandowit?" he asked.

"It has sunk very deep, even as a stone when it falls into the great salt lake."

"Will he remember the place?"

"He will remember it. Mesandowit once took two scalps there."

Self-possessed as in general was Sir Christopher, the reply startled him; but the a.s.sociation in the mind of the savage was too obvious to excite alarm long, and it was without feeling any he replied. He thought proper, however, to remind the Indian of the friendly relation he stood in to his tribe and of the favor he had done them.

"The Sagamore and his Paniese," he said, "who brought the defiance of the Taranteens to the English, have returned safe to their people. Let not the Taranteens forget when I come to visit them that they spoke through my mouth, and that I stood between them and the anger of sachem Winthrop."

The Taranteens never forget. Mesandowit will tell them how Soog-u-gest flew to Shawmut, when Mesandowit, of the swift foot, brought a message from the sachems of the Taranteens, that they desired him to take care of the two warriors who brought the red arrows tied up with a snake skin as a present to Owanux. The Taranteens are a great people and forget not a benefit."

"I am unable to fix the exact time;" said the Knight; "but the young moon that looks now like the eye brow of Mesandowit, will probably not be round before we shall meet again."

They parted at these words, and while Sir Christopher and Philip turned their faces homeward, the Taranteen pursued the same direction in which they had been traveling. Fatigued with the distance they had come, it was now with a more leisurely pace the two proceeded, and, walking for the most part in silence, the sun had risen before they reached home.

CHAPTER XVIII.

When shaws beene sheene and shrads full fayre, And leaves both large and longe, Itt is merrye walking in the faire forrest, To hear the small birdes songe.

BALLAD OF ROBIN HOOD AND GUY OF GISBORNE.

The project of Governor Winthrop of sending an emba.s.sy to the Taranteens met with general favor among his councillors. All agreed that war with the ferocious savages was, if possible, to be avoided under any circ.u.mstances, but especially now when the English must appear to the natives to be stained with the crime of a dastardly breach of faith and murder unparalleled in atrocity. The conduct of Winthrop in returning a bold defiance to their threats, was also approved, (for in treating with them, an exhibition of a want of confidence would be considered a confession of weakness, and only serve to precipitate the calamity to be avoided,) but it complicated the difficulty, if that were possible, and embarra.s.sed any attempt at reconciliation. The Taranteens were felt to occupy a position of great advantage, and likely to attract the sympathy of the Indians generally, and even to unite tribes before hostile to one another against the perfidious Owanux. To the Taranteens no blame could be attached. They had been guilty of no breach of faith; they had acted like brave and honorable men. Even after the outrage upon them they had respected their wild code of honor, nor would commence hostilities, until like the snake, whose warning rattles they sent, they had apprised the enemy of their intention. But the challenge had been given and accepted, and a state of war initiated. Soon might their war-parties be expected to fill the forests, cutting off stragglers and attacking any bodies of men which they should deem inferior in strength to their own. Hence the danger of traveling in the woods, and especially of attempting to penetrate into that remote region, the habitation of the hostile tribe, was greatly increased.

Where was the man daring enough to encounter the peril unless supported by a military force, which would give the emba.s.sy more the appearance of a foray than of a tender of peace? Such an armed band would only invite attack. Besides it was inconvenient, and indeed of the highest detriment to the colony, to take off so many able-bodied men as would be necessary for the purpose, from the cultivation of the fields, and those other industrial pursuits upon which the existence of the colonists depended, even though they should all return safe to their homes--a result by no means to be expected.

When, therefore, Winthrop suggested Sir Christopher Gardiner as a proper person, from his familiarity with the habits of the natives, and his knowledge of their language, to undertake the enterprise, it is no wonder that the proposition was favorably received. All felt it to be a service of danger; it was highly desirable that it should be attempted; no one was so well fitted for it as the Knight; and were the effort at reconciliation to terminate fatally, the loss of no one would be less regretted by several of the a.s.sistants. For there were among them some who were no friends of the Knight, and would gladly have had him out of the colony; either not liking his intimacy with the natives, or suspicious of the circ.u.mstance, that, although he had offered to unite himself with the congregation, he had, somehow or other, never done so, either in consequence of doubts entertained respecting the soundness of his faith, or some unknown cause. This feeling was heightened by a jealousy of the favor enjoyed by the Knight with Winthrop--a favor which, some declared, warped the better judgment of the Governor. In proof of this, they pointed to the remission (at the intercession of Sir Christopher) of a part of the punishment of one Ratcliffe, who had incurred the vengeance of the law, and also of the indulgence shown to Philip Joy. At the head of these malcontents was the a.s.sistant Spikeman--one who, by his evil propensities and incapacity to appreciate the n.o.ble sentiments of Winthrop, stood to him in a certain relation of hostility. For there is no law more prevailing than that evil hates good, compelled thereto by the very const.i.tution of its nature. Indeed, it is evil by reason of that hatred; when that ceases, evil ceases also.

By no one was the proposal to entrust the business to Sir Christopher, if he would accept it--for the cautious Winthrop did not allude to the understanding betwixt himself and the Knight--received with more favor than by Spikeman. He was eloquent in praise of the qualifications of the proposed envoy, and derided the danger, expressing a conviction that it would be easy for him, if he chose, to restore peaceable relations. The qualification in the speech of the a.s.sistant was noticed by Winthrop, and he intimated astonishment at the suspicion, and wonder at the willingness of one who felt it, to entrust the commission in such hands. But the artful Spikeman easily extricated himself from so slight a difficulty, alleging, as the cause of the doubt, the want of that Christian bond on the part of the Knight, without which no one could be ent.i.tled to the entire confidence due to one in full communion.

When the a.s.sistant left the Council, he debated with himself how, if Sir Christopher accepted the service, he might join Arundel, and the soldier Joy with him. Could he succeed, he considered that he would be in a fair way to rid himself at once of three persons who interfered with his designs. The heat of his animosity was directed indeed princ.i.p.ally against Arundel and Joy, the Knight coming in for a portion as their favorer and abettor. But in the pursuit of an object, no scruples of conscience ever interfered with the plans of Spikeman, willing to involve alike friend and foe in one common destruction, if so only his purposes could be accomplished. He calculated somewhat upon the bold temper of Arundel, and also upon his regard for the Knight, by whose side he doubted not the young man would be willing to defy any danger to which the other would expose himself.

With this view he took care, by means of his spy, Ephraim Pike, to acquaint Arundel with the honor intended for Sir Christopher. The expedition was represented by Pike as a mere party of pleasure, and as affording fine opportunities for observing the tribes in their native haunts. The good sense of the young man, and the experience he already had, taught him better than to regard it exactly in the light wherein the spy exhibited it; but, though conscious that there must be danger, in the excited condition of the Taranteens, he could not believe it to be great, else neither would Winthrop ask such exposure of life, nor would the Knight accept of the enterprise. As for what danger was to be encountered, it rather stimulated than deterred in the desire to partake of it, as the lion hunt has greater attractions for the hunter than the chase of the deer. Some words dropped from Pike about the woodcraft of Joy, and his bravery; but he dared not speak plainer for fear of betraying himself.

The information of Pike, it seems, was not without effect, for early on the morning of the following day, Arundel started for the habitation of his friend, taking with him what he considered necessary for a distant journey in the woods. The distance was pa.s.sed over in a couple of hours; but, early as it was, he found that a messenger had antic.i.p.ated him. This he discovered, as well from the language of the Knight, who stood in the porch of his house with a letter in his hand, as from the appearance of the man with whom he was conversing, whom Arundel perceived was one of the soldiers who ordinarily mounted guard before the door of the Governor.

"This," said the Knight, handing the letter to the messenger, "to Governor Winthrop, and a fair return to thyself."

The man took the letter, and, after making the military salute of the period, turned on his way to Boston.

"Here has come," said Sir Christopher, after the usual greetings, "a request from the Governor that I would undertake an emba.s.sy to the Taranteens, to soothe their excited minds and prevent an outbreak."

"May I inquire what is your reply?" asked Arundel.

"How canst thou doubt? Surely, where honor and good deeds invite, no true knight can turn back."