Sir Ludar Part 58

"Just as we set forth, he came up to the leader of our party, and said in a whisper I could overhear: 'Remember--the mistress to the house by the wood, and the little one to Dublin--and hands-off.' Then all the villainy of the thing flashed on me in a moment. 'Mistress,' cried I, 'we are betrayed!' But before the words were out, a rough hand was laid across my mouth, and we were galloping. Nay, Humphrey," said she, laying her hand gently on mine, "if thou start and toss like this, 'tis a sign my story doeth thee harm, and I will cease."

"Would you have me lie still and hear all this?" cried I, in a fever.

"Yes, dear heart," said she, and that so sweetly that I was forced to obey. "We were galloping away from Castleroe. For a whole day we galloped, till we were faint and ready to drop. Then, as we came to a wood, which I guessed to be the place where my mistress and I were to be parted, our leader suddenly reined in and turned to give an order to the man who held me. As he did so, four men sprang out from among the trees and a horrible fight ensued. In the midst of it, one of the new-comers advanced to me and said, 'You are safe!' and I knew it to be no other than the soldier Gedge himself."

"And he who came to my side," put in the maiden, smiling amid her heaviness, "said: 'Let Diana shake off her clouds. Apollo himself hath come to lead her out into the Empyrean.'"

"G.o.d reward them both for this!" said I.

"Amen," said Jeannette. "Two of the villains they slew and the other staggered away, as I fear, mortally wounded. 'Twas him you saw.

"As for us, our rescuers brought us here, where the McDonnell hath welcomed us, and, as you know, loveth my mistress as his own daughter.

Yet, little thought we, as we looked out from the turret window at the storm last night, and prayed side by side for those at sea, that you, and--and Sir Ludar were coming to us on the wild waves!"

The day wore on, and still neither soldier nor poet nor any news came to comfort us.

Then I demanded to be taken to Sorley Boy McDonnell, and the maiden led my tottering steps to the great hall. There sat the old man, bare- headed and motionless, at the head of the empty table, with his sword laid out before him. "Is my son come?" demanded he, as we entered.

"Not yet, dear sire," said the maiden, going to him.

"He is not far away, sir," said I; "of that I am sure."

"I know that," said the old chief, half angrily. "The Banshee has been dumb since Alexander McDonnell fell. Why comes not Ludar? I grow impatient."

Even as he spoke there came a knocking on the door, and a Scot entered hastily.

He brought news that in a hut a mile eastward of the castle a man had been found, who had been brought up from the sh.o.r.e, dead; and that, further east still, the bodies of--

Here Sorley Boy smote his fist on the table, and ordered the fellow to hold his peace.

"I want no news of the dead," said he, wrathfully, "but of the living.

Where is my son Ludar?"

The man slunk off chapfallen.

The maiden knelt beside the old man's chair, and laid her white cheek on his rough sleeve. Jeannette drew me gently to a bench at the far corner of the hall, and bade me rest there beside her.

Thus, while the afternoon slowly wore into evening, and the storm without moaned itself to sleep, we sat there in silence.

About sundown, just as--despite the sweet presence at my side--I was growing drowsy with weariness and pain, Sorley Boy suddenly uttered an exclamation and rose to his feet. The maiden rose too. And as she stood, motionless but for the heaving of her bosom, the slanting rays of the sun caught her and kindled her face into a wondrous glow.

Jeannette's gentle hand restrained me, as the old man, taking a step or two down the room as far as the end of the table, stood there facing the door. Then there fell on my ears a voice and the ring of a footstep in the courtyard without. Next moment, the door swung open and Ludar walked quietly in.

Jeannette led me softly from the place, and kept me cruelly pacing in the outer darkness for half-an-hour before she said:

"Art thou not going in to welcome thy friend, Humphrey?"

Need I say what pa.s.sed, when at last we stood all four together in that great hall?

The old chief had taken his seat again at the table, and sat there solemn and impa.s.sive, as if all that had pa.s.sed had been but the ordinary event of an afternoon. But the fire in his eye betrayed him, as now and again he half turned his head to the window where Ludar and the maiden stood gazing out across the waves.

"Humphrey, my brother," said Ludar, when at last Jeannette and I drew near, "'tis worth a little storm to be thus in port at last, and to find you there too."

"Ay, indeed," said I. "And, as you see, there are more than I here to greet you."

Then he stepped up to Jeannette and gazed in her face a moment, and kissed her on the brow.

"Thou art welcome to Dunluce, sister Jeannette," said he.

Jeannette told me afterwards that she never felt so proud in her life as when Ludar's lips touched her forehead, and she heard him call her sister.

'Twas not in me to complain that it should be so; for the ways of women are beyond my understanding.

Presently the old man rose from his seat, and without a word left us to ourselves. Ludar then narrated how, when the _Gerona_ broke up, he had fallen near a broken oar, which held him up and enabled him to reach land almost without a bruise. For a long while he lay in the darkness, not knowing where he was; but when day broke, he found himself in the deep cave that goes under the castle, a prisoner there by the rising tide, and with no means of escape. For to stem the waves at the mouth was hopeless, and by no manner of shouting and calling could he make his presence known to anyone outside.

So all day, faint with hunger, he had perched on a ledge just beyond reach of the tide, and not till evening, when the wind, and with it the water, subsided, was he able to swim out and come to land at the foot of the very path up which, long months ago, he had led the party who recovered Dunluce for the McDonnells.

His story was scarce ended when a cheering without called us to the courtyard, where the news of the return of Sir Ludar had gathered the McDonnells, eager with shouts and music to welcome him.

But Ludar would by no means go out till his father arrived to command it. Then it did us, who loved him, good to see him stand there, with the maiden's hand in his, receiving the homage of his clansmen.

While thus we stood, there was an uproar at the gate, as two men fought their way through the throng and approached us.

"Jove and the Muses grant their beloved son a soul to celebrate so notable a festival in the strains which it deserves!" cried the poet, shaking all over with emotion, and his eyes dim with tears. "Achilles hath his Briseis; Odysseus his lost Penelope, and all four have to their hand an Orpheus (woe's me! without his Eurydice), to chant their fortunes. Oh! my n.o.ble son of a wolf, and thou, my Hollander, how I rejoice to see you, and to hand to your arms the nymphs of whom one day, perhaps, it shall be accounted to their honour that they were nourished on the dews of Parna.s.sus by the Muses' most unworthy disciple."

"A nice dry nurse you be!" said Jack Gedge. "'Tis a mercy the fair ladies have their ear-drums sound after half-a-year of your noisy buzzing in them. Sir Ludar, by your leave, captain, you hold in your hand what you gave me in charge to keep for you; so I owe you nought but my farewell."

"Nay," said Ludar. "By heaven, we are all debtors to you both, and shall compel you to own it. And since you both and my comrade here be Englishmen, let me tell you that, for your sakes, I shall salute your Queen's ensign when I next see it."

That night the poet related to me with much embellishment and flourish all that had pa.s.sed since the maids left London, most of which I already knew, yet was not loth to hear again from his lips.

"Thank me no thanks, my Hollander," said he, when once more I blessed him for the service he had done. "The poet's glory cometh not from earth. I have, while I waited here, written an excellent and notable epic on the wars of the ill.u.s.trious house of the McDonnells, the which I will even now rehea.r.s.e thee for thy delectation. And when once more thou art returned to thy press, I reserve for thee the glory of imprinting three n.o.ble copies of the same on paper of vellum, to be bound after the manner of the Venetians, in white, with clasps of gold, to be given, one to my lord Sorley Boy, one to Sir Ludar, and one to thee, for thy private and particular delectation."

Again I thanked him, and begged he would reserve the reading till to- morrow, when I should be more wakeful.

To which, marvelling much at my patience, he agreed.

"As for me," said he, "naught falleth ill to the favourites of the Immortals. I owe no grudge to the day I took thee into my protection.

As a printer, count on me as thy patron. As a man, call me thy friend.

And if some day, at thy frugal fireside (for the which thou art already provided with the chiefest ornament), thou shouldst have a spare chair and platter, I will even deign to fill the one and empty the other now and again, in memory of this, our time of fellowship. Therefore count on me, my Hollander; and so, good-night."

There is little more to be told. Of the crew of the doomed _Gerona_, the tide washed some hundreds, before many weeks were past, into a bay near the Causeway Headlands, east of Dunluce. Amongst them, Ludar and I discovered the body of Don Alonzo, calm and gentle in death, and buried him with what honour, we could in holy ground near the tomb of the McDonnells. A few cannon and guns we helped haul up and set on the walls of Dunluce, where they are to this day, much to the wrath of my Lord Deputy and his English Councillors.

Jack Gedge remains body servant to Sir Ludar McDonnell; where, if his trust be not so great as it was (now that his master and mistress are one), he is none the less faithful or joyous in his service.

As for the poet, he was true to his promise of visiting Jeannette and me at our frugal fireside. But this was not for many years after the promise was given.

As soon as my arm was healed and I could persuade Ludar to release me, I returned to London, to find the house without Temple Bar still empty, and Master Walgrave's name still a caution to evil-doers. Despairing of seeing me and his type from Roch.e.l.le, he had sold himself to those firebrands Masters Udal and Penry; and by means of his secret press had given utterance to certain scandalous and seditious libels on the bishops and clergy of the Church, known by the name of Marprelate, his books. A merry chase he gave the beadle and pursuivants all over the country, dropping libels wherever he went, till at last he suddenly vanished and left them to whistle.