Highland Ballad Part 27

"No, Mary, I don't think so. Perhaps to us..... Someone is going to be murdered, and it will happen in this room."

The banquet hall was again nearly full, though the air was far from festive. Both camps seemed to realize that something major had occurred in the battle between their respective leaders, and to sense that something further would happen that night. Only Purceville himself, and the large, rough-looking officer to his right, appeared unconcerned.

The meal proceeded, largely in silence. Then, as the cloth was drawn, the Governor rose and began to propose a series of toasts.

There was nothing unusual in this. Rather, it seemed the act of a genial host, trying to smooth over the obvious tension of his guests.

"Gentlemen, I give you the health of the King.

"Gentlemen, to a strong and united Britain." And so forth.

But after these stock phrases, suitable for such an occasion, his words began to take on a more personal tone, which bordered at times on outright sarcasm.

During the first several toasts, Arthur had worn the air of a righteous man who would not be pacified. But as their nature and content became more inflammatory, and their number far exceeded decorum, he became first agitated, then flushed and quite angry. The latter speeches of Purceville ran something like this:

"Gentleman, to the health of vibrant leaders." To Arthur, an obvious slur against his age and recurring angina.

"Gentlemen, to the gallant soldiers who conquer and protect, so that others may live comfortably from their labors." The Secretary had never been more than a token officer, nor served in a single campaign.

"Gentlemen, to those with the strength and courage to make their own way in the world." And so on.

Finally the aged aristocrat stood defiantly, and raised his own cup high. "I see no gentleman before me," he retorted. "But I will answer his challenge." And he glared about the room. "To the truth about low-born men. And to those who will not leave their treachery in darkness, but hold it forth in the hard light of day."

The gathering, already hushed and apprehensive, now fell silent as a stone. For unlike his rival, Arthur had made no attempt to hide his animosity, or to engage in verbal cat-and-mouse.

But Purceville only smiled blithely. "Splendid!" he cried, as if the remark could not possibly have been directed at him. He drained his goblet with a flourish, then crashed it gaily back down onto the table. Anyone who did not know him well (and there were many present who did not), might have thought him too deep in his cups.

"Well, my friends," he said, a bit unsteadily. "It has been a lovely evening. But sadly, all things must come to an end.....

"For now there is work to be done. In the name of that same truth which the Earl so eloquently serves, he and I must be off on an errand of our own. We are going to interview a lady ." And he raised his eyebrows suggestively, the very portrait of a man who had lost all restraint. "Lieutenant Ballard will accompany me, as my faithful right hand in all things. But perhaps Earl Arthur would feel more secure with a somewhat larger retinue?" Again (to Arthur) the underlying insult, the slur against his courage and character.

"My orderly officer will be more than sufficient escort for me,"

returned the Secretary. "To record the events of our interview. For I am sure that I will have nothing to fear, once the truth is known."

"Bravo," said the larger man heartily. "Your strength and vitality are an inspiration to us all. Now gentlemen, if you will excuse us."

Purceville himself led the way, as the four-man procession filed out of the room, leaving behind the light and heat of the banquet hall.

And on toward the back reaches of the Castle.

"I'm afraid it's rather a long way," he said, as they turned the first corner. "Perhaps the Earl might care to take a short rest?"

"Your audience is gone, Purceville. This is between you and me. I may not be as young as you; but by G.o.d I'd walk to the ends of the earth tonight!"

"Of course." And after a time. "One last corridor."

When they reached the ma.s.sive Tower door, Ballard drew out his ring of keys. Inserting the largest, he turned it roughly in the lock, then pushed in on the heavy oak barrier with a groan of iron hinges. A dark opening awaited them.

The company stepped inside, and were enfolded in echoes. To their right, illumined by a single, recessed lamp, stood the beginnings of an ancient stairway, cold stone that spiralled out of sight. Ballard relocked the door behind them, then took up a torch, and lighted it at the lamp.

"Perhaps you should reconsider, Earl? I'm afraid the ladies in question reside on the uppermost story."

Arthur ground his teeth in impotent wrath. He had eaten and drunk obstinately at the meal, as if to prove himself. He had taken the bait, and dug the hook deep into his flesh. And though now a part of him smelled the trap, his pride would not let him back down. For the strong wine had gone to his head, and he believed himself more than he was.

"I shall go wherever you lead," he said hotly, unable to control himself. "To bury you, I would descend into h.e.l.l itself."

"Very well, Secretary. My second will lead the way with the torch.

Watch your step, and be sure to tell us if you begin to flag along the way."

Ballard suppressed a grin of pleasure, and began to climb. The others followed.

The aristocrat's hard resolve could not last. Soon he moved as if in

chains, every step a punishment. This man who had begun life so high, gliding easily and arrogantly down the gentle incline, now found himself struggling bitterly just to reach the level ground of final judgment.

Halfway up it was clear that he should go no further. His breath came in tight gasps, as almost unconsciously he clutched at the growing pain in his left arm and shoulder.

Becoming alarmed, his orderly called a halt, and approached his failing master. "Your Lords.h.i.+p must rest," he whispered emphatically.

But the others looked down in sneering silence. As soon as he regained his breath the old man pushed him off, and said harshly.

"We go on."

"But surely," said Purceville, in his best native tongue. "'Tis no trouble to stop."

"We move !" The procession continued, always upward.

Ten steps from the top, Arthur collapsed. Rus.h.i.+ng toward him with a look of sudden concern, the Lord Purceville lifted his shriveled form, and carried it like an injured child up to the broad final landing.

"Oh, this is bad," he said, as he set him down and stooped to examine him. "I fear I've made a terrible mistake. Mister c.u.mmings," (this was the orderly), "Run like the Devil! Fetch my personal physician. Tell him what has happened, and that I fear for the Secretary's heart. I'll do what I can to make him comfortable here: we dare not try to move him." The man turned pale with fright, then rushed headlong down the steps.

As soon as he was out of sight and hearing, Ballard set the torch in its iron mount, and allowed himself to smile in earnest.

"Got to hand it to you, Governor. That was a fine piece of work. He'll be nine parts down before he remembers he can't get out without my key. And he's half winded as it is."

"You must not take that for granted!" growled Purceville, himself not immune to the rigors of the climb. "Did you bring the flask as I told you?"

"Of course." And a look of reproach.

"Then give it to me. Now !"

Ballard glared at him, but the other was not even looking. He lifted the tin from his pocket, and placed it in Purceville's outstretched hand.

Burning with rage, Henry Purceville took the fine embroidered handkerchief from the breast pocket of the crumpled man. Then soaked it with water, and brought it slowly toward his face.

"What are you going to do?" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Arthur helplessly. But his voice had been reduced to a cracked whisper, and his imagined safety deserted him.

"This is for the soldiers, your Highness . And for me." And the son of a sailor stuffed the cloth full into his mouth. Then with one great hand holding the jaw shut, he pinched off the nose with the other, and stopped all flow of air.