The Knight of the Golden Melice Part 5

"But is it so light a thing to be done, sweet Prudence?" replied Spikeman, raising her in his arms, and straining her to his bosom before he replaced her on the sofa. "Nay, kneel not again," he added, seeing that she was about to resume her att.i.tude of supplication; "that were a posture as fitting for me as for thee."

"O, sir," cried poor Prudence, "you are a great man, and can do whatever you please. If you speak to the Governor again, he will let Philip out. I am sure he meant nothing wrong. I am certain they told wicked lies about him."

"Truly will I remonstrate again," said Spikeman. "So great is my regard for thee, I will risk losing his favor for thy sake. But for all the sacrifices I make, what shall be thy return to me?"

"I will pray night and day for you; I will be your slave; I will worship the ground on which you tread."

"Sweet maiden," said Spikeman, pa.s.sing his arm around her waist, "I ask not so much. I ask thee only to be happy with me. Thy prayers, though rising like morning incense, I need not. I would rather be thy slave than have thee mine, and I worship thee already. Turn not away thy cheek, but let me greet thee with the kiss of charity."

The girl averted not her glowing cheek, whereon, with these words, he imprinted a pa.s.sionate kiss, which he attempted to repeat, but Prudence drew a little back, and removed his arm. His lips burned like fire. She felt as if they had left behind a mark to betray her, and she shuddered with aversion; but she believed the fate of the soldier to be in his hands, and dared not to offend him. Besides, she was no delicate lady, but strong and full of confidence, and feared no danger to herself. As she marked his heightened color and kindling eyes, and he made another attempt to salute her, she said, with half a disposition to cry and half to laugh:

"Is not kissing and toying forbid by the elders and worshipful magistrates?"

"They are forbid to them outside of the congregation, and who have no Christian liberty," answered Spikeman--"to them who make a display of what should be concealed, to avoid the scandal of the wicked; but not to the elect and discreet, who can use their liberty as not abusing it. Therefore, let me kiss thee with the kisses of my mouth, for thy love is better than wine. Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair," he continued, pressing upon her; "thou hast dove's eyes within thy locks. Thy lips are like a thread of scarlet."

"Hark!" cried Prudence, pushing him back, "I hear a noise." "I hear no sound," said Spikeman, after listening for a moment, "save the voice of my beloved. O, speak, and say unto me, 'rise up, my love, and come away, for lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone, the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land,'"

So saying, he caught her in his arms, and giving license to his fiery pa.s.sions, stamped repeated kisses upon her lips and bosom, in spite of her struggles. But the sounds which the quick ears of Prudence had detected became more and more distinct, and persons on foot and on horseback were seen in the street returning from the lecture. Without difficulty she broke from the now yielding arms of Spikeman, and had just time to compose her disordered hair and tunic, when the voice of the dame at the door was heard demanding admission.

CHAPTER IV.

"Oh, give me liberty!

For were even Paradise my prison, Still I should long to leap the crystal walls."

DRYDEN.

The motives which animated Spikeman to play the part which he did in the court that condemned the soldier, will now be better understood.

He had cast eyes of licentious desire upon the blooming Prudence, who was, at the same time, beloved by Philip, and was solicitous to remove him out of the way. Bold in all his plans, neither honoring G.o.d nor fearing man, unscrupulous in regard to the means, to effect a purpose, and esteeming the gratification of his evil wishes the highest happiness, it was yet necessary to the achievement of his objects that a specious outside at least should be preserved, and this he had succeeded in doing up to the present time. In pursuance of his cunning policy, he was unwilling that even Joy should suspect him of unfriendliness, and for that reason had, in the course of the examination, excited the temporary vexation of Deputy Governor Dudley, by an observation which, to the unsuspecting Deputy, seemed indicative of a desire to screen Joy from punishment, and to Joy himself the interference of a friend; while, in fact, it was intended to entrap the prisoner into rash speeches, which would be prejudicial to his cause. How effectually he undeceived Dudley, after Joy had been removed, we have seen.

The a.s.sistant had attained his object. Philip was in the first place to be imprisoned and fined, and afterwards banished, and the field was henceforth to be left free to himself. With his rival out of the way, he did not doubt of succeeding with the girl by means of such arguments and temptations as it would be in his power to employ. How he had begun by endeavoring to use the very affection of Prudence for her lover to make her betray herself, has been told; but thus far her simplicity and good fortune had been quite a match for his craft. In the hope to obtain some advantage for Philip, she had granted the a.s.sistant the interview which we have just witnessed, and wherein he disclosed his character in a manner he had never done to her before.

She now understood his designs thoroughly, but the knowledge was a secret which her fears suggested that she had better lock up in her own heart. What chance would a poor unprotected girl have in a contest with the rich and powerful a.s.sistant? Who would take her word in opposition to his? Spikeman well appreciated his advantage, and calculating with absolute certainty upon her silence, was, in consequence, the more audacious.

When the spy of the a.s.sistant found him at his store-house, he was meditating upon the approaching interview with Prudence, the contemplation of which it unpleasantly interrupted. The prospect of the soldier's liberation was exceeding disagreeable. It would interfere with, and perhaps defeat plans, which in blind pa.s.sion he hugged to his heart. But engrossed by his unworthy madness, he could not then mature any scheme not connected with its immediate gratification. Machinations for the further accomplishment of his designs must be postponed for a calmer moment. It came after the interruption occasioned by the arrival of his wife, and soon his active brain had shaped his ideas into definiteness.

Accordingly in the evening, as soon as it became so dark that features were not readily distinguishable in the streets, the a.s.sistant took his way to the prison in which the soldier was confined. It stood on the edge of the settlement, and was a low, one-story building, strongly made of unhewn logs, within a few feet of which was the dwelling of the jailer, but little differing from it in exterior. In those days a very strong jail was not so important as at present. If one had committed a crime so heinous that he was unfit to live, he was forthwith put beyond the power of doing mischief; but if the offence were of a less atrocious character, modes of punishment were usually resorted to which did not involve the necessity of supporting him at public charge--such, for instance, as whipping, cutting off the ears, slitting the nose, and like improvements of the human form divine. If through defect of the prison, or from any other cause, the offender escaped, it was pretty certain that he would not make his appearance in a hurry, lest some worse thing might befall him, and so there was one malcontent the less, and one disturber of the peace gone, even though the ends of punishment were not perfectly attained.

Spikeman, on reaching the house of the jailer, was about to knock at the door, when his attention was arrested by sounds which made him pause. The weather being warm, the window was open, and he was able to hear distinctly what was said within. Motives of delicacy or honor weighed not much in the mind of a man like him, and he scrupled not to appropriate any advantage to be derived from eaves-dropping.

"What made you, Sam Bars, take all the ornaments off Philip but the bracelets, without saying anything to me?" inquired a voice, which Spikeman recognized as belonging to the jailer's wife.

"Why, Margery, to confess, I forgot to tell you," answered her husband; "but," added he, laughing, "I had no fear on thy account, for thou art a match for a man any day."

"When I took him in his supper," said the woman, "there was poor Philip rubbing his ankles to get the swelling out. Truly I pitied him, for he is a proper young man."

"Oh! goody, the women always pity proper young men. I warrant me now if it had been a grizzled old wolf like me, you would not have thought so much of his ankles."

"Say not so, Sam," replied the woman, affectionately, "nor liken thyself to a wolf. O, how they used to howl every night when we first came to this wilderness; but the Lord protected his people. I dare say now, it was thy kind heart made thee take off the irons."

"That it was not, wife. They were put on by order of one I am bound to obey; nor durst I take them off but by command of a higher authority."

"Why do you talk as though you were giving me riddles to guess? Am I not bone of thy bone?"

"A big heap of bones we make together," muttered Sam, glancing at the large frame of his wife, not much excelled by his own, "but she's a good soul, amiss only in her tongue at whiles; howbeit, saith not Paul, it is an unruly member? Well, Margery, an thou must know, it was by order of the Governor's own mouth to me they were taken off, and what is more, I am to let Philip go free in the morning."

"Bless his sweet face," cried the woman, "I always said the worshipful Governor was the sweetest; and virtuousest and excellentest man in the whole country."

"There be them among the elders and magistrates who be of a different opinion. Beshrew me! (may the Lord forgive me," he added, looking round in alarm. "I hope no one hears me,) but, according to my thinking, it is only because Master Winthrop asks for no pay, and spends so much out of his own purse for other folk, that they choose him Governor."

"What can anybody have against so sweet-tempered and liberal a gentleman?" inquired Margery.

"Well, then, the elders complain that he is not so zealous, even unto slaying, as becomes a leader of the Lord's host, which he is, like Moses and Joshua; and some of the deputies pretend that he takes too much state on him, and means to make himself a king, or least-wise, a lord."

"And I trow, good man, I know no reason why, when the Commonwealth, as they call it, gets big enough, we should not have a king as well as the folk on the other side of the water. It was always a pleasure to see his Majesty in the streets of London, with the grand lords and ladies all in their silks and satins, and jewels and feathers. It will be long, I am afraid," sighed the good woman, "before we shall see such fine sights in these woods."

"Hush, goody," said Sam, "take care your tongue do not get you into trouble. Speak lower, an you will talk about things you know nothing about. You love kings and lords better than some folk," he concluded, with a laugh.

"Take care of your own tongue, Sam Bars; I warrant you mine will take care of itself. But wherefore should I not love the king? Is it not written--touch not mine anointed, and do my prophets no harm? And I will let you know, Sam Bars? that I will say what I please about him, G.o.d bless him! Marry, come up, a fine time of day truly, if a woman may not speak her mind! I should like to see the man or woman either, forsooth, to stop me. My tongue and ten commandments (stretching out her fingers) know how to take care of one another, I can tell you. My tongue get me into trouble! O, Sam, why do you aggravate me so? Me, the quietest and peaceablest and silentest wife in the world! Why dost not speak? Art as dumb as the bench your heavy carca.s.s almost breaks down? Speak, I say, Sam, speak, or I shall go crazy."

But her husband, whom long experience had taught the best mode of weathering such storms, only shook his head in silence, until the good woman, after a variety of e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns and expletives, finding that she made no more impression on him than children's pop-guns on a sand-bank, concluded to cool down, when she asked what the Governor said to him.

Sam, glad that the current had taken another direction, answered readily "a mountain of questions about Philip. And he wanted to know why I put so many irons on him--how he found it out, the Lord only knows, unless"--here Bars sunk his voice, so that the words were inaudible to the listener, and he lost a sentence or two--"and when he dismissed me, he ordered that I should never do it again without his consent, and then sent me into the kitchen, where I had a pottle of sack."

"A whole pottle of sack!" exclaimed his wife, in a tone of disappointment; "and here was I at home, as dry in this outlandish hot weather as the children of Israel at Rephidim, when they did chide Moses because there was no water to drink." "You might have brought your own Margery a taste," she added, reproachfully.

"Did I say I had a whole pottle? If I did, I spoke only in a figure, as one may say; for there was Ephraim Pike to help me make away with it, and you know his gullet is like a London sewer. Love your bright eyes, Margery, a quart of sack stands no more chance with Ephraim, when his nose once gets scent of the liquor, or his lips touch the edge of the mug, than a mouse among a dozen cats."

"Or than it has with you, Sam. But men be all alike; they be always guzzling; they never think of their poor wives. Here am I, Margery Bars, thine own help-meet, never away from home; never running about streets and going to Governor's houses to swill sack; never"--but here the voice of the discontented woman, who, in her excitement, had risen from her seat and walked away, was lost in the pantry, or rather subdued into an inarticulate grumble; and Spikeman, after waiting awhile, and finding it improbable that the conversation would be resumed, knocked in a peculiar manner on the door, which was almost immediately opened by Bars himself.

"Hath the order for the soldier's release arrived from the Governor?"

inquired the a.s.sistant.

"It hath, worshipful sir; he is to be dismissed in the morning,"

answer the jailer.

"Hast said anything about it to Joy, as I requested thee not?"

"He knows no more concerning it than the logs of his dungeon," said Bars.

"Then get the keys, and means to strike a light."

Without replying, as one accustomed to obey such orders, the jailer provided himself in a few moments with the articles required. He placed an unlighted candle in the lantern, and the two proceeded to the door of the jail.

"He is your only prisoner, I believe?" said Spikeman.

"None other," answered Bars.