The Tavern Knight Part 21

"It may be--" began Gregory, then stopped abruptly with an exclamation that caused Joseph to wheel sharply round. The door had opened, and on the threshold Sir Crispin Galliard stood, deferentially, hat in hand.

Joseph's astonished glance played rapidly over him for a second. Then:

"Who the devil may you be?" he blurted out.

Despite his anxiety, Gregory chuckled at the question. The Tavern Knight came forward. "I am Sir Crispin Galliard, at your service," said he, bowing. "I was told that the master of Marleigh was returned, and that I should find you here, and I hasten, sir, to proffer you my thanks for the generous shelter this house has given me this fortnight past."

Whilst he spoke he measured Joseph with his eyes, and his glance was as hateful as his words were civil. Joseph was lost in amazement. Little trace was there in this fellow of the Roland Marleigh he had known.

Moreover, he had looked to find an older man, forgetting that Roland's age could not exceed thirty-eight. Then, again, the fading light, whilst revealing the straight, supple lines of his lank figure, softened the haggardness of the face and made him appear yet younger than the light of day would have shown him.

In an instant Joseph had recovered from his surprise, and for all that his mind misgave him tortured by a desire to learn whether Crispin was aware of their knowledge concerning him--his smile was serene, and his tones level and pleasant, as he made answer:

"Sir, you are very welcome. You have valiantly served one dear to us, and the entertainment of our poor house for as long as you may deign to honour it is but the paltriest of returns."

CHAPTER XVI. THE RECKONING

Sir Crispin had heard naught of what was being said as he entered the room wherein the brothers plotted against him, and he little dreamt that his ident.i.ty was discovered. He had but hastened to perform that which, under ordinary circ.u.mstances, would have been a natural enough duty towards the master of the house. He had been actuated also by an impatience again to behold this Joseph Ashburn--the man who had dealt him that murderous sword-thrust eighteen years ago. He watched him attentively, and gathering from his scrutiny that here was a dangerous, subtle man, different, indeed, to his dull-witted brother, he had determined to act at once.

And so when he appeared in the hall at suppertime, he came armed and booted, and equipped as for a journey.

Joseph was standing alone by the huge fire-place, his face to the burning logs, and his foot resting upon one of the andirons. Gregory and his daughter were talking together in the embrasure of a window. By the other window, across the hall, stood Kenneth, alone and disconsolate, gazing out at the drizzling rain that had begun to fall.

As Galliard descended, Joseph turned his head, and his eyebrows shot up and wrinkled his forehead at beholding the knight's equipment.

"How is this, Sir Crispin?" said he. "You are going a journey?"

"Too long already have I imposed myself upon the hospitality of Castle Marleigh," Crispin answered politely as he came and stood before the blazing logs. "To-night, Mr. Ashburn, I go hence."

A curious expression flitted across Joseph's face. The next moment, his brows still knit as he sought to fathom his sudden action, he was muttering the formal regrets that courtesy dictated. But Crispin had remarked that singular expression on Joseph's face--fleeting though it had been--and it flashed across his mind that Joseph knew him. And as he moved away towards Cynthia and her father, he thanked Heaven that he had taken such measures as he had thought wise and prudent for the carrying out of his resolve.

Following him with a glance, Joseph asked himself whether Crispin had discovered that he was recognized, and had determined to withdraw, leaving his vengeance for another and more propitious season. In answer--little knowing the measure of the man he dealt with--he told himself it must be so, and having arrived at that conclusion, he there and then determined that Crispin should not depart free to return and plague them when he listed. Since Galliard shrank from forcing matters to an issue, he himself would do it that very night, and thereby settle for all time his business. And so ere he sat down to sup Joseph looked to it that his sword lay at hand behind his chair at the table-head.

The meal was a quiet one enough. Kenneth was sulking 'neath the fresh ill-usage--as he deemed it--that he had suffered at Cynthia's hands.

Cynthia, in her turn, was grave and silent. That story of Sir Crispin's sufferings gave her much to think of, as did also his departure, and more than once did Galliard find her eyes fixed upon him with a look half of pity, half of some other feeling that he was at a loss to interpret. Gregory's big voice was little heard. The sinister glitter in his brother's eye made him apprehensive and ill at ease. For him the hour was indeed in travail and like to bring forth strange doings--but not half so much as it was for Crispin and Joseph, each bent upon forcing matters to a head ere they quitted that board. And yet but for these two the meal would have pa.s.sed off in dismal silence. Joseph was at pains to keep suspicion from his guest, and with that intent he talked gaily of this and that, told of slight matters that had befallen him on his recent journey and of the doings that in London he had witnessed, investing each trifling incident with a garb of wit that rendered it entertaining.

And Galliard--actuated by the same motives grew reminiscent whenever Joseph paused and let his nimble tongue--even nimblest at a table amuse those present, or seem to amuse them, by a score of drolleries.

He drank deeply too, and this Joseph observed with satisfaction. But here again he misjudged his man. Kenneth, who ate but little, seemed also to have developed an enormous thirst, and Crispin grew at length alarmed at that ever empty goblet so often filled. He would have need of Kenneth ere the hour was out, and he rightly feared that did matters thus continue, the lad's aid was not to be reckoned with. Had Kenneth sat beside him he might have whispered a word of restraint in his eat, but the lad was on the other side of the board.

At one moment Crispin fancied that a look of intelligence pa.s.sed from Joseph to Gregory, and when presently Gregory set himself to ply both him and the boy with wine, his suspicions became certainties, and he grew watchful and wary.

Anon Cynthia rose. Upon the instant Galliard was also on his feet. He escorted her to the foot of the staircase, and there:

"Permit me, Mistress Cynthia," said he, "to take my leave of you. In an hour or so I shall be riding away from Castle Marleigh."

Her eyes sought the ground, and had he been observant of her he might have noticed that she paled slightly.

"Fare you well, sir," said she in a low voice. "May happiness attend you."

"Madam, I thank you. Fare you well."

He bowed low. She dropped him a slight curtsey, and ascended the stairs.

Once as she reached the gallery above she turned. He had resumed his seat at table, and was in the act of filling his gla.s.s. The servants had withdrawn, and for half an hour thereafter they sat on, sipping their wine, and making conversation--while Crispin drained b.u.mper after b.u.mper and grew every instant more boisterous, until at length his boisterousness pa.s.sed into incoherence. His eyelids drooped heavily, and his chin kept ever and anon sinking forward on to his breast.

Kenneth, flushed with wine, yet master of his wits, watched him with contempt. This was the man Cynthia preferred to him! Contempt was there also in Joseph Ashburn's eye, mingled with satisfaction. He had not looked to find the task so easy. At length he deemed the season ripe.

"My brother tells me that you were once acquainted with Roland Marleigh," said he.

"Aye," he answered thickly. "I knew the dog--a merry, reckless soul, d--n me. 'Twas his recklessness killed him, poor devil--that and your hand, Mr. Ashburn, so the story goes."

"What story?"

"What story?" echoed Crispin. "The story that I heard. Do you say I lie?" And, swaying in his chair, he sought to a.s.sume an air of defiance.

Joseph laughed in a fas.h.i.+on that made Kenneth's blood run cold.

"Why, no, I don't deny it. It was in fair fight he fell. Moreover, he brought the duel upon himself."

Crispin spoke no word in answer, but rose unsteadily to his feet, so unsteadily that his chair was overset and fell with a crash behind him.

For a moment he surveyed it with a drunken leer, then went lurching across the hall towards the door that led to the servants' quarters.

The three men sat on, watching his antics in contempt, curiosity, and amus.e.m.e.nt. They saw him gain the heavy oaken door and close it. They heard the bolts rasp as he shot them home, and the lock click; and they saw him withdraw the key and slip it into his pocket.

The cold smile still played round Joseph's lips as Crispin turned to face them again, and on Joseph's lips did that same smile freeze as he saw him standing there, erect and firm, his drunkenness all vanished, and his eyes keen and fierce; as he heard the ring of his metallic voice:

"You lie, Joseph Ashburn. It was no fair fight. It was no duel. It was a foul, murderous stroke you dealt him in the back, thinking to butcher him as you butchered his wife and his babe. But there is a G.o.d, Master Ashburn," he went on in an ever-swelling voice, "and I lived. Like a salamander I came through the flames in which you sought to destroy all trace of your vile deed. I lived, and I, Crispin Galliard, the debauched Tavern Knight that was once Roland Marleigh, am here to demand a reckoning."

The very incarnation was he then of an avenger, as he stood towering before them, his grim face livid with the pa.s.sion into which he had lashed himself as he spoke, his blazing eyes watching them in that cunning, half-closed way that was his when his mood was dangerous.

And yet the only one that quailed was Kenneth, his ally, upon whom comprehension burst with stunning swiftness.

Joseph recovered quickly from the surprise of Crispin's suddenly rea.s.sumed sobriety. He understood the trick that Galliard had played upon them so that he might cut off their retreat in the only direction in which they might have sought a.s.sistance, and he cursed himself for not having foreseen it. Still, anxiety he felt none; his sword was to his hand, and Gregory was armed; at the very worst they were two calm and able men opposed to a half-intoxicated boy, and a man whom fury, he thought, must strip of half his power. Probably, indeed, the lad would side with them, despite his plighted word. Again, he had but to raise his voice, and, though the door that Crispin had fastened was a stout one, he never doubted but that his call would penetrate it and bring his servants to his rescue.

And so, a smile of cynical unconcern returned to his lips and his answer was delivered in a cold, incisive voice.

"The reckoning you have come to demand shall be paid you, sir. Rakeh.e.l.ly Galliard is the hero of many a reckless deed, but my judgment is much at fault if this prove not his crowning recklessness and his last one.

Gadswounds, sir, are you mad to come hither single-handed to beard the lion in his den?"

"Rather the cur in his kennel," sneered Crispin back. "Blood and wounds, Master Joseph, think you to affright me with words?"

Still Joseph smiled, deeming himself master of the situation.

"Were help needed, the raising of my voice would bring it me. But it is not. We are three to one."

"You reckon wrongly. Mr. Stewart belongs to me to-night--bound by an oath that 'twould d.a.m.n his soul to break, to help me when and where I may call upon him; and I call upon him now. Kenneth, draw your sword."

Kenneth groaned as he stood by, clasping and unclasping his hands.