A piece of tapestry4 seemed unrolled, so swiftly did things happen. The very power of movement was taken away from Martin Valliant. He saw all that passed as though it were in a dream, the black figure of John Rich and his horse going at the gallop with spear leveled, the men behind him strung out in a half circle and all rushing like the wind. There was Mellis’s white face, helpless, hesitating, like a piece of apple blossom floating on the blackness of a pool. Young Nigel Blount, sword in air, was shouting to his men, who had turned tail and were running for the shelter of the woods. Then Rich’s spear smote5 right through Nigel Blount’s body. Martin heard the lad’s scream, saw him twist like a puppet on a wire, and tumble backwards6, dragging the point of Rich’s spear to the ground. The riders swept around Mellis; she seemed to sink out of sight in the thick of the crowd.
Martin Valliant awoke. He uttered a great cry, and rushed toward the little turret7 where the stairway opened upon the leads. As he reached it Peter Swartz caught him by the sword belt.
“Stay, you fool!”
Martin tried to thrust him off, but Swartz kept his hold.
“No, no, my friend, knock my teeth out if it pleases you, but if your head’s on fire mine had better do the thinking.”
“Let go, man.”
“And see you rush out there and be ridden down and spitted like that poor popinjay! Thirty to one are heavy odds8, Martin Valliant.”
“Let go, curse you.”
“And hold on, say I. Listen to reason, man, and use your wits. You’ll not help that girl by getting yourself killed.”
“The strength of God is in me.”
“And the brains of a sheep! The game is not lost and won yet, but it will be if you go rushing out like a mad bull. Cunning, man—cunning and patience.”
“If I must die, I’ll die now, Swartz.”
“Oh, good fool, set your teeth and bide12 your time! It is no time for dying. What use would a dead man be to the child out yonder? Set your teeth, Martin Valliant; play the grim dog who can watch and wait.”
He laid his arm across Martin’s shoulders and drew him aside.
“Why, man, I’m with you, and you will thank me to-morrow for this. And here are we squabbling and scuffling when we should be watching like hawks13. Come—we must match John Rich for cunning.”
Martin Valliant surrendered, but he covered his face with his sword-arm and stood shaking like a man with the ague.
Meanwhile John Rich was riding back at his leisure, the bridle14 of Mellis’s horse over his wrist. Ten of his men had gone in pursuit of the foresters from Bloody15 Rood, and two more had dismounted, taken young Blount’s body by the heels, and were dragging it down to the mere16. John Rich brought his horse close to the bridge-head, and his trumpeter blew a summons.
Martin straightened himself, with a sudden shining of the eyes. He saw Mellis sitting her horse beside John Rich, pale, motionless, tragically19 calm. She looked up toward the tower, and Martin fancied that she smiled; he felt that his heart would break for her.
“If they would take me and let her go!”
“My Lord of Troy is no honey-pot, to catch flies and let them escape as they please. Have nothing to say to John Rich; let him blow his trumpet17 till the fellow’s cheeks burst.”
Martin stood forward, resting his hands on the pommel of his sword. John Rich hailed him.
“Hallo, there! Come down and open the gate. The game is played out.”
Martin Valliant’s eyes were fixed21 on Mellis’s face. He was wondering whether she despised him for not rushing out to strike a blow for her—whether she thought him a coward. Swartz had crouched22 down behind the wall, and was watching Martin narrowly.
“Steady, brother. That child has brave eyes and a fine heart. She will understand. Tell Rich to go to the devil.”
“Have done with this fooling. Will you give us the place, or are we to take it?”
Martin was waiting for something, and that something came. He saw Mellis raise her head proudly; he saw her mouth open; her voice reached out to him across the water:
“Stand fast, Martin Valliant!”
He raised the cross of his sword and kissed it as a sign to her.
“To the death!” he called to her.
And John Rich, accepting the defiance24, turned his horse and rode back with Mellis to the beech wood.
Now John Rich was a man of method. He posted a guard of ten men to cover the bridge, and two more to patrol the banks of the mere. The rest disappeared into the woods, shed their harness, and took to ax and saw, for John Rich had brought a tumbril laden25 with ropes, a ladder, tools, balks26 of timber, and such-like gear from Troy Castle. The matter was to be undertaken stolidly27 and with thoroughness. He set his men at building a couple of rafts or floats that could be dragged down to the mere after dark. Half his party would pole themselves over to attack the house, while the rest held the causeway.
Martin kept watch upon the tower, and Swartz remained with him out of a new-born spirit of comradeship. A great restlessness tormented28 Martin Valliant. He could no longer see his love, nor guess what might have befallen her, and his soul suffered in a lover’s purgatory29. All the past years had been blotted30 out; he had lived just seven days since this woman had come into his life, with those eyes of hers dark as the forest and her lips red as the rose. Great storms of tenderness and wrath swept through him. He was tortured by vivid memories of her, flashes of her that hurt his soul, the miraculous31 way her dark eyes would fill with golden lights, her plaintive32 look when she was sad, the little dimple in her cheek, the way her lips moved, the shape of her fingers, the curve of her chin, the falling of her dark hair over her ears. These vivid flashes of her intoxicated33, maddened him. He wanted to pour himself out, die for her, spend his great love, and make her feel it.
Swartz watched Martin closely as he went restlessly to and fro, or stood and stared at the beech wood as though it held both heaven and hell.
“Patience, brother.”
Martin turned on him with furious eyes.
“Patience! Man, man, I burn—I burn!”
“Keep your torch alight; there is no harm in it. With the night will come your hope.”
“Night?”
“Things may be done by a desperate man at night.”
“True. I can swim the moat.”
He stood and brooded with a face that spelled death for some one. His love and his helplessness scorched34 him like flame. He could have choked Swartz for telling him to wait, though in his heart he knew that Swartz was right.
Sometimes he would start, fancying that he had heard Mellis calling to him:
“Martin—Martin Valliant!”
He would turn on Swartz:
“Did you hear?”
“Nothing, my son—nothing.”
Swartz was laconic35, implacable. He had made himself a little peephole by loosening some of the stones with his dagger36 and levering them out. This squint37 of his commanded the beech wood, and he watched it like a dog waiting for a rat.
“Thunder!”
Martin turned and saw him kneeling with his eye close to the hole. His lips were stretched tight over his teeth.
“Are you behind me, man? What do you see?”
Martin faced sharply toward the beech wood. A man had ridden out from the shade—a man in a red doublet slashed38 and puffed39 with blue, a red hat on his head, his legs and thighs40 cased in white armor. He was a very tall man, and he sat his horse with a certain swaggering grace. In his right hand he carried a light switch.
Martin looked puzzled.
“I have not seen that fellow before.”
“And I have seen him too often. What, you have lived in these parts and know not Messire Fulk de Lisle?”
Martin’s forehead wrinkled itself.
“Fulk de Lisle! A great gentleman in my Lord of Troy’s service.”
“A great gentleman! God help you, Martin Valliant, and God help— Enough. This clinches43 it. I have often itched44 to cut that man’s throat, though I have served with him.”
Martin Valliant’s eyes filled with a sudden fury of understanding.
“Why is he here?”
“To play any devil’s trick that pleases him. You do not know Messire Fulk de Lisle. Rich is a saint beside him. The debonair45, filthy46, malicious47 devil! Why, I could tell you— Oh! to hell with the beast!”
He twisted around and looked up into Martin Valliant’s face.
“Man, can you stand torture?”
“Speak out!”
“Supposing he brings the child—and tries to break you by—shaming her?”
Martin’s face was like a white flame.
“God! It’s beyond belief! Why should he?”
“Because he is Fulk de Lisle; because he has a foul49 cleverness and a liking50 for such things. My Lord of Troy would laugh at such a comedy. God and the Saints, I wonder now why I have lived with such men!”
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1
beech
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| n.山毛榉；adj.山毛榉的 | |
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rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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4
tapestry
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| n.挂毯，丰富多采的画面 | |
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smote
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| v.猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去式 ) | |
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backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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turret
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| n.塔楼，角塔 | |
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8
odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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irresolute
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| adj.无决断的，优柔寡断的，踌躇不定的 | |
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10
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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yearning
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| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
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bide
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| v.忍耐；等候；住 | |
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hawks
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| 鹰( hawk的名词复数 )； 鹰派人物，主战派人物 | |
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bridle
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| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
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15
bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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trumpet
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| n.喇叭，喇叭声；v.吹喇叭，吹嘘 | |
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parley
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| n.谈判 | |
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tragically
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| adv. 悲剧地，悲惨地 | |
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20
scoffed
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| 嘲笑，嘲弄( scoff的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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22
crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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23
bellowed
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| v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的过去式和过去分词 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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24
defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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laden
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| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
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balks
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| v.畏缩不前，犹豫( balk的第三人称单数 )；（指马）不肯跑 | |
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27
stolidly
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| adv.迟钝地，神经麻木地 | |
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tormented
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| 饱受折磨的 | |
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purgatory
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| n.炼狱；苦难；adj.净化的，清洗的 | |
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30
blotted
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| 涂污( blot的过去式和过去分词 )； （用吸墨纸）吸干 | |
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31
miraculous
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| adj.像奇迹一样的，不可思议的 | |
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32
plaintive
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| adj.可怜的，伤心的 | |
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33
intoxicated
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| 喝醉的，极其兴奋的 | |
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34
scorched
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| 烧焦，烤焦( scorch的过去式和过去分词 )； 使（植物）枯萎，把…晒枯； 高速行驶； 枯焦 | |
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35
laconic
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| adj.简洁的；精练的 | |
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36
dagger
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| n.匕首，短剑，剑号 | |
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37
squint
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| v. 使变斜视眼, 斜视, 眯眼看, 偏移, 窥视; n. 斜视, 斜孔小窗; adj. 斜视的, 斜的 | |
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38
slashed
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| v.挥砍( slash的过去式和过去分词 )；鞭打；割破；削减 | |
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39
puffed
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| adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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40
thighs
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| n.股，大腿( thigh的名词复数 )；食用的鸡（等的）腿 | |
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41
spat
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| n.口角，掌击；v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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42
bully
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| n.恃强欺弱者，小流氓；vt.威胁，欺侮 | |
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43
clinches
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| n.（尤指两人）互相紧紧抱[扭]住( clinch的名词复数 )；解决（争端、交易），达成（协议）v.（尤指两人）互相紧紧抱[扭]住( clinch的第三人称单数 )；解决（争端、交易），达成（协议） | |
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44
itched
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| v.发痒( itch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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45
debonair
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| adj.殷勤的，快乐的 | |
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46
filthy
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| adj.卑劣的；恶劣的，肮脏的 | |
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47
malicious
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| adj.有恶意的，心怀恶意的 | |
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48
grimaced
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| v.扮鬼相，做鬼脸( grimace的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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49
foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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50
liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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