The Yeoman Adventurer
the open lattice I watched the flicker of lanterns in the yard, where the
horses were being upped and whoaed stablewards.
"You will favour me, sir, with your escort into supper," said Margaret.
This brought me to myself with a jerk. I closed the lattice, offered her
my arm, and we walked towards the guest-room where the Colonel was
awaiting us.
"I think you'd better revise your knowledge of the Scriptures, Master
Oliver," said she very quietly as I led her into the room.
"In what respect, Mistress Margaret?"
"You seem to have an imperfect recollection of the way in which Goliath
met his death. It's idle to say we're late, dad, when supper's not yet
served."
He exploded into words I did not understand. "It's all right, only
French," whispered Margaret mischievously. "It means 'name of a dog.' I
could swear better myself."
"That's right," stormed the Colonel. "As fast as I curse soldiering into
one ear of him, you coax it out of the other! I'll be thankful when you're
under Mother Patterson's wing in Chester."
The coming of Cherry-Cheeks and one of the hard-favoured maids with the
supper, followed by our host with the wine, followed in turn by Master
Freake, put an end to my first lesson in soldiering and the imprecatory
wealth of continental languages, and straightway the host slopped over
with apologies for the delay in serving the supper.
"Things are a bit upset in the town, y' mun know," he said, "and every
wench in the 'Rising Sun' 'as been a devil unknobbed all day. This
red-faced hussy here, when 'er was wanted to set the table, was off to see
if that spindle-shanked Sim across at the Mayor's was safe and sound. And
besides, my lady and y'r 'onours, the famous steak-and-kidney puddin' o'
the 'Rising Sun' must be boiled to a bubble or it's dummacked. If one got
spiled, the news 'ud run down to Chester and up to London in no time, and
the 'Red Lion' 'ud get all my customers. His Grace of Kingston put up at
the 'Red Lion' in all innocence until his worship, for old friendship's
sake and a bottle of brandy, 'ticed 'im over 'ere to one of my puddin's.
'E started an inch off the table and ate till 'e touched, as we say in
Staffordsheer, and then sent for 'is baggage, and 'as lain 'ere ever since
in the great bedchamber over y'r yeds, an' I'm thinking to call it the
Duke's Room an' charge sixpence extra for it. It's worth another sixpence
to sleep in the same bed as a duke's slep' in. If it ain't, by gom, I'd
like to know what he is for. Damn if y'r can tell by lukkin' at 'im."
What I have for convenience' sake set down here as a continuous speech
addressed to us all, was really a series of remarks addressed to whichever
of us appeared for the moment to be listening, and broken by commands,
scoldings, and threats addressed to the women. The tail-end of his remarks
made me cock my ear, for it indicated that we were at the centre of the
danger zone.
"If I were you," interposed Master Freake at last, "I'd coax Prince
Charlie to sleep in it and then charge a shilling extra. A prince, and my
dislike of his ways doesn't unprince him, is surely worth twice as much as
a duke."
"Swelp me bob," cried the delighted host, slapping his thigh in high
glee, "that 'ud be better than a murder. It's wunnerful how a murder 'elps
a 'ouse. Tek the 'Quiet Woman' o' Madeley. There was a murder there, and a
damn poor thing of a murder it was, nothing but a fudge-mounter cuttin' a
besom-filer's throat; poor wench, 'er lived up on th' Higherland yonder,
and I'll bet it was wuth two-and-twenty barrel of beer to owd Wat. A
murder's clean providential to a pub--"
"Damn, get out," vociferated the Colonel, "or I'll provide the murder and
you the corpse."
The meal, be it said, was thoroughly good in every way. I'm not the man
to despise my belly, and I don't hold with those that do. There are better
things in life than steak-and-kidney puddings, but my experience is they
want a lot of finding. The Colonel would not hear of any talk about our
affairs till supper was over. "I dare say you're all agog to know what
I've been doing and what we are going to do," he said to me. "That's
because you're a youngster at everything and a mere infant-in-arms at
soldiering. When you've had a month's campaigning you'll know that the
only things really worth bothering about are supper and bed."
To my great content he immediately fell head over heels into argument
with Master Freake, something about bounties on herring busses, if I
remember aright, and Margaret and I were left to each other, and a rare
treat I had in hearing her lively talk and watching her glowing beauty.
At last, with almost a sigh of satisfaction, and then with a
mischief-glint in her eyes, she said, "The pudding has been very good, but
I prefer ham and eggs, provided that the right person cooks them."
"I should agree," I replied, "with one other proviso."
"To wit," said she, with a glass of wine half-way to her lips.
"That the right person saves them from frizzling to a cinder."
She sipped her wine steadily, and then, leaning forward till the radiance
of her yellow hair made me quiver, she whispered calmly, "Oliver, you're a
brute."
"Nay, madam," said I, "only a yokel."
She looked at me again as she had looked at me when I had kissed her hand
beneath the hawthorns.
"Hello, there," broke in the Colonel, addressing himself to me, "who was
right about the dog's life?"
"I was, of course," said Margaret promptly.
The host was rung for, his supper praised to his heart's content, the
table cleared, and a dish of tea ordered for Margaret. Bethinking me of
the sergeant's tuck, which might be useful, I asked the host to bring it
up, and he did so.
When we were again left to ourselves, the Colonel took the sword, and
examined it with his skilful eyes and practised hands.
"Somewhat heavy," said he, "but well balanced and well made, and of the
truest steel. Are you a swordsman, Master Wheatman?"
"I never had one in my hand in my life till to-day," was my reply.
"Gird him for the wars, Margaret," said he. "So much of the ancient rules
and customs of chivalry as can be observed in these mechanic days shall,
by us at any rate, be observed. In strict law you ought to have spent a
night in prayer and fasting, but your loyal service to Margaret is a good
equivalent. To labour is to pray, say the parsons, and, my lad, always
remember in your soldiering that a so-minded man can offer up a powerful
prayer between pull of trigger and flash of priming. Kneel, Oliver, and in
God's sight you shall be more truly knighted than any capering and
chattering of German Geordie's can contrive."
And so, in the guest-room of the "Rising Sun," I knelt to my sweet
mistress, and, before God and in the presence of Christopher Waynflete,
Colonel of Horse in the service of the King of Sweden, and John Freake,
citizen of London, Margaret, gravely and serenely beautiful, touched my
shoulder with the sword and then girded it upon me.
"Sirs," she said, addressing her father and Master Freake, "the accolade
has never been given to a worthier." Then, bending swiftly as a swallow
dips in its flight over the meadows, she whispered emphatically in my
ears, "Yokel it no more!"
CHAPTER XIII
PHARAOH'S KINE
"And now to business," said Master Freake.
"To pleasure, sir," said the Colonel. "Business is over."
He was leisurely filling his pipe, an example which Margaret, with a
smile and a nod, gave me permission to follow.
"Tell us how you escaped," said Margaret. "Master Wheatman cannot too
soon begin to learn the tricks of the trade. Sorry, dad," bending to kiss
his hand; "you needn't look at me in German. I mean rudiments of the
profession."
"A woman who calls soldiering a trade ought to be forcibly married to a
parson," said the Colonel passionately.
"There'll be a reasonable quantity of parsons to choose from at Chester,"
she retorted, laughing up in his face.
"Chester? Why Chester?" demanded Master Freake, suddenly tense and
vigilant.
"I need name no name, but a certain dignitary's lady there, one of our
supporters, undertook to take her in charge while this affair was on,"
explained the Colonel.
Master Freake, it seemed to me, was disappointed with the explanation,
and, knowing that what Margaret wanted was to have the rumour of her
father's intended treachery blown to pieces by his own account, I said,
"There's only one parson in England fit to look at Mistress Margaret, and
he's sixty and married. Let me learn, I pray you, sir, the art of slipping
out of the hands of a squad of dragoons on a road crowded with soldiery."
"If you think you are to hear a tale that will make you grip the arms of
your chairs, you're in for a sad disappointment. Yesterday and through the
night, they stuck to me as if Geordie had offered thirty thousand pounds
for me, dead or alive, but this morning their hold on me slackened. They
might have intended me to escape. I was put on a fresh horse, about the
best they'd got; the dragoon in charge of me was three parts drunk when we
started; we got mixed up in a crowd of foot retreating south, and
separated from our main body, and finding myself alone on the road with
one man, and him drunk, I just knocked him off his horse, and cleared off
across the fields.
"I rode on until I got a sight of this town, and the main road into it,
from a hill-top, and watched for an hour or so to see what was happening.
I knew by my pace that I was well ahead of my late escort, and seeing no
signs of them, came on to this inn, and was enjoying a good dinner when I
saw Sultan and Oliver on him. The rest you know. Not much of a tale. Madge
has done better many a time."
"Do you really think the Captain intended you to escape?" It was Margaret
who asked the question, looking intently at me as she spoke.
I looked from her to Master Freake and back again, meaning to remind her
that I wanted no convincing, but she still kept her eyes on mine, her chin
cupped in her long white hands, and I was glad of her insistence for I
could look at her without offence. I thought the mellow fire-light made
her look more beautiful than ever. The lustrous yellow hair shone like
molten gold, and the dark blue eyes became a queenly purple.
"If it were done on purpose it was done cleverly," continued the Colonel,
"for the chance which set me free came quite naturally. The horse I rode
yesterday was wanted in the usual way by a trooper to whom it belonged,
and where so many men were more or less drunk, the choice of my particular
drunkard was certainly accidental. And, besides, what possible motive
could there be in letting me escape? Brocton knows I'm an experienced
soldier of great repute--I state plain facts--and am eagerly expected by
the Prince and by my old companion-in-arms, Geordie Murray. They couldn't
have planned it better if they had wished it, but it's absurd to say they
wished it. There ought to be a cashiered captain and a half-flayed dragoon
somewhere south of us. Damme, I merit that at least."
He bent over the hearth to relight his pipe. Master Freake smiled and
rubbed his hands gently. Margaret's eyes blazed with triumph, and
challenged me, still me, to share it. Woman-logic was clean beyond my poor
wits. I was sick for action. These glorious interludes with Margaret gave
me no chance. It was like setting me afire and asking me not to burn.
Thinking of the poor, half-flayed devil behind us, made me think of the
sergeant, and I asked Master Freake, "Did you give the sergeant his papers
and letter?"
"No," was the ready reply. "The papers dealt rather frankly with certain
regimental accounts, and, since the sergeant is now very bitterly set
against us, may be useful in my hands. I had a shrewd notion that the