Sir Ludar Part 37

"He would not know that it was only because I feared the drunken man,"

said she.

"He would suspect me, instead, of being thy sweetheart?" asked I.

"Ay," said she, "Peter hath a long tongue."

"What if he suspect me aright, Jeannette?"

I felt the hand on my arm give a little start, as she dropped her eyes, and quickened her flagging steps.

She said nothing. But you might have heard the beating of my heart, as I looked down at her, and laid my hand on hers.

"If Peter guessed aright," repeated I, "what then, Jeannette?"

This time her hand lay very quiet, and her footsteps grew slower, till at last they stood still.

Then she lifted her head and looked me in the face.

"Then, Humphrey, I should not mind what anybody said."

So all was peace betwixt us two; and we were sorry when our walk was ended.

CHAPTER TWENTY.

HOW THERE CAME VISITORS TO MASTER WALGRAVE'S HOUSE.

So occupied was I with my new joy, that for a day or two what I had heard from drunken Tom Price in Moorfields slipped me. Or, if I thought of it, it seemed all was well. For I gathered from his wild talk that the maiden--left no doubt by her harsh step-dame to fight her own battles--had fled from the Captain's persecutions with the help of Tom, to Canterbury, where (as I knew), was the convent school in which she had been brought up. Here she was safe from his clutches, even if he knew where she was, which Tom took care he should not. And, to make all surer, there was that English soldier--Ludar's prisoner, whom he had charged to protect her--hovering near, true to his trust and ready to defend her from all and every foe that should a.s.sail her.

Therefore, I felt easy in my mind to leave her thus secure, and set myself to win my mistress' and master's good-will for my match with the sweet Jeannette.

'Twas no easy task. For my mistress said the child was over young; and my master told me I had somewhat else to think of than such tomfoolery.

Howbeit, when I told them that, say what they pleased, Jeannette was mine, and that so soon as my time was up two years hence I should take her to myself with leave or without, they thought better of it, and yielded somewhat.

My mistress said, two years hence we should all be grown older, and if we were then of the same mind perchance she might be of another. My master, too, counting to retain me in his service as a son-in-law, said there was time enough betwixt now and then. And thus it came to pa.s.s Jeannette and I were left to our hopes, and needed no sweeter comfort to make the weeks fly.

But, one day early in February, as I walked on my master's business near Charing, I saw a sight which made me uneasy on another's behalf. For there, at the road corner as you go to Whitehall, I perceived a man who pulled out a purse and gave it to another; and when I looked closer, I saw that he who gave was Captain Merriman, and he who received was my old fellow-apprentice, Peter Stoupe.

Instantly, although I heard not a word, and there might have been a hundred other considerations, I took it into my head that this business meant mischief to Ludar. And, cudgelling my brains further, I called to mind how, that memorable night in Moorfields, while I talked with the drunken sergeant, Peter had sneaked past us, and put my sweet little mistress in a flutter.

What if, instead of heeding us, he had been listening to what the soldier said? He knew or guessed enough of the maiden's story--having heard me tell it often--to put two and two together. What if he, as well as I, had learned the soldier's secret; and, to despite me and profit himself, had sold it to the one man from whom it was by all means to be kept?

I cursed my wickedness, who, lapped in my own happy fortune, had thus neglected my absent master's interest and let this knave get beforehand with me. For, be Ludar alive or dead, I owed it to him to save the maiden from the Captain, even if it cost me my life.

So, as I say, this vision of the pa.s.sing of the purse woke me out of my dream, and warned me that there was danger in the wind.

That afternoon, the same Providence which gave me the alarm put into my way a means of acting upon it.

My master I found in a sore state of vexation because a certain book he was printing, from which he expected some profit, was refused a licence by the Stationers' Company. They liked it not, said the clerk, and had sent it on to his Grace, who had other matters to think of, and was, besides, away in Canterbury on a visitation.

At this my ears p.r.i.c.ked.

"By your leave, Master Walgrave," said I, "here is a matter that presses. If we get not his Grace's licence now, the occasion for the book will be gone by. How if you let me go to Canterbury, to wait upon him?"

Master Walgrave shrugged his shoulders.

"Have you forgot your last journey for me?" said he. "For if you have, I have not."

"Oh," said I, rather sheepish, "I am older than that now. Besides, I know what I go for this time, and have not my business sewn up in my cloak's lining."

"'Tis bad weather for so long a journey," said my mistress.

"I heed not that," said I, like a hypocrite, "so I get my master his licence."

"Beside," said Jeannette, who knew what was afoot, "Humphrey likes to travel, and he pines, I know, to be freed a day or so from my ap.r.o.n strings."

I vowed she wronged me there; but between us all, my master yielded and said I should start next day to see his Grace.

"Nay," said I, "I will start to-night. There is no time to lose."

But they would not hear of that, and for fear of betraying myself, I forbore to press it, and went betimes to bed, promising to be away before daybreak on the morrow.

Early as I was next morning, Jeannette was astir to bid me G.o.d-speed and give me my breakfast.

"Humphrey, _mon ami_," said she. "I should not grudge to see thee go on so good an errand. Yet, I shall be glad to see thee home."

"Perhaps," said I, "it is all for nothing, and Ludar's maiden may be safe from harm. Yet, something tells me she needs my help."

"You may tell that maiden," said Jeannette, "that I lend you to her; and if she need shelter, she shall have it here."

I thanked her for that brave speech, and tore myself away. By dint of hard walking--for I had no nag to carry me this time--I arrived late that night at Rochester, where I was glad enough to turn into the first inn I met, and sleep.

I know not how it was. I dreamed all night that Ludar was calling to me to turn back, while the maiden was bidding me go forward; and betwixt them I was torn in two, and lay kicking all night, listening to the clatter of hoofs that went past, and fancying that while I tarried there, his Grace of Canterbury was carrying off my sweet Jeannette, I know not whither. It must have been towards morning when at last I shook off my nightmares and fell asleep. And thus it happened that, instead of being far on my road, at ten of the clock I still lay snoring, with all my day's work before me to reach Canterbury that night.

As it fell out, I did not even do that. For close by Feversham I met a parcel of knaves who laid hold of me and rifled me of all I had, save one n.o.ble that I had hid in my hat. And because I showed fight, and ran two of them through, they wanted to hang me at the roadside and so end my travelling days for ay. But as they must needs find a tall tree, which was not to be had at the roadside, they hauled me away to the wood to make an end of me there. And since I walked meekly with my head hung down, they slackened their guard of me, so that presently I was able to make a dash away from them, and hide myself in the forest.

I escaped them, but it cost me a whole afternoon. For I lost myself among the trees; and daring not to show myself, must needs lie low while the hue and cry lasted, and afterwards find my road under shelter of night as best I could.

You may guess if I chafed not under this delay; specially as the way from there to Canterbury was too hard to be walked in the dark. Halt where I was, I must; but I did it, feeling that I might be too late, and that each moment lost to me was a gain to that foul Captain.

At early dawn I was afoot, and before mid-day stood in the city of Canterbury. As in duty bound, I asked my way first of all to his Grace's palace (which was hard by the great Church), where I longed to have my master's business disposed of.

Alack! his Grace was not to be seen, being away on a visitation; and his Grace's secretary had other matters to attend to, and sent word to me to enquire again to-morrow about the same time. So I was forced to let the business wait, much to my sorrow, and meanwhile seek to hear some news of Ludar's maiden.

I remembered what Tom Price in his drunken speech had said of the nunnery, hard by which was a certain tavern by name of the "Oriflame,"

where I was like to hear of the English soldier, Jack Gedge. Thither, accordingly, I went, being told I should find it outside the walls on the Dover road.

'Twas a low, mean house, with little accommodation for man or beast, being, indeed, as much farmhouse as hostel, with naught but the flaming sign to tell me I might wade through the muck and litter to the door and there call for refreshment.