Coventry Patmore - "The Victories of Love and other Poems"

William Shakespeare - "The Second Part of Henry the Fourth"

Arthur B. Reeve - "The Poisoned Pen"

Voltaire - "Zadig"

To Have and To Hold:

M >> Mary Johnston >> To Have and To Hold:




"So Sir Thomas chains him there," he said, - "right there to that
tree under which you are sitting, Jacky Bonhomme." Jacques
incontinently shifted his position. " He chains him there, with one
chain around his neck, one around his waist, and one around his
ankles. Then he sticks me a bodkin through his tongue." A groan
of admiration from his audience. "Then they dig, before his very
eyes, a grave, - shallow enough they make it, too, - and they put
into it, uncoffined, with only a long white shroud upon him, the
man he murdered. Then they cover the grave. You're sitting on it
now, you other Jacky."

"Godam!" cried the rascal addressed, and removed with expedition
to a less storied piece of ground.

"Then they go away," continued Diccon in graveyard tones. "They
all go away together, - Sir Thomas and Captain Argall, Captain
West, Lieutenant George Percy and his cousin, my master, and Sir
Thomas's men; they go out of the wood as though it were
accursed, though indeed it was not half so gloomy then as it is
now. The sun shone into it then, sometimes, and the birds sang.
You would n't think it from the looks of things now, would you?
As the dead man rotted in his grave, and the living man died by
inches above him, they say the wood grew darker, and darker, and
darker. How dark it's getting now, and cold, - cold as the dead!"

His auditors drew closer together, and shivered. Sparrow and I
were so near that we could see the hands of the ingenious
story-teller, bound behind his back, working as he talked. Now
they strained this way, and now that, at the piece of rope that
bound them.

"That was ten years ago," he said, his voice becoming more and
more impressive. "Since that day nothing comes into this wood, -
nothing human, that is. Neither white man nor Indian comes, that's
certain. Then why are n't there chains around that tree, and why are
there no bones beneath it, on the ground there? Because, Jackies
all, the man that did that murder walks! It is not always deadly still
here; sometimes there 's a clanking of chains! And a bodkin
through the tongue can't keep the dead from wailing! And the
murdered man walks, too; in his shroud he follows the other - Is n't
that something white in the distance yonder?"

My lord's four knaves looked down the arcade of trees, and saw the
something white as plainly as if it had been verily there. Each
moment the wood grew darker, - a thing in nature, since the sun
outside was swiftly sinking to the horizon. But to those to whom
that tale had been told it was a darkening unearthly and portentous,
bringing with it a colder air and a deepened silence.

"Oh, Sir Thomas Dale, Sir Thomas Dale!"

The voice seemed to come from the distance, and bore in its
dismal cadence the melancholy of the damned. For a moment my
heart stood still, and the hair of my head commenced to rise; the
next, I knew that Diccon had found an ally, not in the dead, but in
the living. The minister, standing beside me, opened his mouth
again, and again that dismal voice rang through the wood, and
again it seemed, by I know not what art, to come from any spot
rather than from that particular tree behind whose trunk stood
Master Jeremy Sparrow.

"Oh, the bodkin through my tongue! Oh, the bodkin through my
tongue!"

Two of the guard sat with hanging lip and lacklustre eyes, turned
to stone; one, at full length upon the ground, bruised his face
against the pine needles and called on the Virgin; the fourth,
panic-stricken, leaped to his feet and dashed off into the darkness,
to trouble us no more that day.

"Oh, the heavy chains!" cried the unseen spectre. "Oh, the dead
man in his grave!"

The man on his face dug his nails into the earth and howled; his
fellows were too frightened for sound or motion. Diccon, a hardy
rogue, with little fear of God or man, gave no sign of perturbation
beyond a desperate tugging at the rope about his wrists. He was
ever quick to take suggestion, and he had probably begun to
question the nature of the ghost who was doing him such yeoman
service.

"D' ye think they've had enough?" said Sparrow in my ear. "My
invention flaggeth."

I nodded, too choked with laughter for speech, and drew my
sword. The next moment we were upon the men like wolves upon
the fold.

They made no resistance. Amazed and shaken as they were, we
might have dispatched them with all ease, to join the dead whose
lamentations yet rang in their ears; but we contented ourselves
with disarming them and bidding them begone for their lives in the
direction of the Pamunkey. They went like frightened deer, their
one goal in life escape from the wood.

"Did you meet the Italian?"

I turned to find my wife at my side. The King's ward had a kingly
spirit; she was not one that the dead or the living could daunt. To
her, as to me, danger was a trumpet call to nerve heart and
strengthen soul. She had been in peril of that which she most
feared, but the light in her eye was not quenched, and the hand
with which she touched mine, though cold, was steady.

"Is he dead?" she asked. "At court they called him the Black Death.
They said" -

"I did not kill him," I answered, "but I will if you desire it."

"And his master?" she demanded. "What have you done with his
master?"

I told her. At the vision my words conjured up her strained nerves
gave way, and she broke into laughter as cruel as it was sweet.
Peal after peal rang through the haunted wood, and increased the
eeriness of the place.

"The knot that I tied he will untie directly," I said. "If we would
reach Jamestown first, we had best be going."

"Night is upon us, too," said the minister, "and this place hath the
look of the very valley of the shadow of death. If the spirits walk,
it is hard upon their time - and I prefer to walk elsewhere."

"Cease your laughter, madam," I said. "Should a boat be coming
up this stream, you would betray us."

I went over to Diccon, and in a silence as grim as his own cut the
rope which bound his hands, which done we all moved through the
deepening gloom to where we had left the horses, Jeremy Sparrow
going on ahead to have them in readiness. Presently he came
hurrying back. "The Italian is gone!" he cried.

"Gone!" I exclaimed. "I told you to tie him fast to the saddle!"

"Why, so I did," he replied. "I drew the thongs so tight that they cut
into his flesh. He could not have endured to pull against them."

"Then how did he get away?"

"Why," he answered, with a rueful countenance, "I did bind him,
as I have said; but when I had done so, I bethought me of how the
leather must cut, and of how pain is dreadful even to a snake, and
of the injunction to do as you would be done by, and so e'en
loosened his bonds. But, as I am a christened man, I thought that
they would yet hold him fast!"

I began to swear, but ended in vexed laughter. "The milk's spilt.
There 's no use in crying over it. After all, we must have loosed
him before we entered the town."

"Will you not bring the matter before the Governor?" he asked.

I shook my head. "If Yeardley did me right, he would put in
jeopardy his office and his person. This is my private quarrel, and I
will draw no man into it against his will. Here are the horses, and
we had best be gone, for by this time my lord and his physician
may have their heads together again."

I mounted Black Lamoral, and lifted Mistress Percy to a seat
behind me. The brown mare bore the minister and the negress, and
Diccon, doggedly silent, trudged beside us.

We passed through the haunted wood and the painted forest
beyond without adventure. We rode in silence: the lady behind me
too weary for speech, the minister revolving in his mind the escape
of the Italian, and I with my own thoughts to occupy me. It was
dusk when we crossed the neck of land, and as we rode down the
street torches were being lit in the houses. The upper room in the
guest house was brightly illumined, and the window was open.
Black Lamoral and the brown mare made a trampling with their
hoofs, and I began to whistle a gay old tune I had learnt in the
wars. A figure in scarlet and black came to the window, and stood
there looking down upon us. The lady riding with me straightened
herself and raised her weary head. "The next time we go to the
forest, Ralph," she said in a clear, high voice, "thou 'lt show me a
certain tree," and she broke into silvery laughter. She laughed until
we had left behind the guest house and the figure in the upper
window, and then the laughter changed to something like a sob. If
there were pain and anger in her heart, pain and anger were in
mine also. She had never called me by my name before. She had
only used it now as a dagger with which to stab at that fierce heart
above us.

At last we reached the minister's house, and dismounted before the
door. Diccon led the horses away, and I handed my wife into the
great room. The minister tarried but for a few words anent some
precautions that I meant to take, and then betook himself to his
own chamber. As he went out of the door Diccon entered the
room.

"Oh, I am weary!" sighed Mistress Jocelyn Percy. "What was the
mighty business, Captain Percy, that made you break tryst with a
lady? You should go to court, sir, to be taught gallantry."

"Where should a wife go to be taught obedience?" I demanded.
"You know where I went and why I could not keep tryst. Why did
you not obey my orders?"

She opened wide her eyes. "Your orders? I never received any, -
not that I should have obeyed them if I had. Know where you
went? I know neither why nor where you went!"

I leaned my hand upon the table, and looked from her to Diccon.

"I was sent by the Governor to quell a disturbance amongst the
nearest Indians. The woods today have been full of danger.
Moreover, the plan that we made yesterday was overheard by the
Italian. When I had to go this morning without seeing you, I left
you word where I had gone and why, and also my commands that
you should not stir outside the garden. Were you not told this,
madam?"

" No!" she cried.

I looked at Diccon. "I told madam that you were called away on
business," he said sullenly. "I told her that you were sorry you
could not go with her to the woods."

"You told her nothing more?"

"No."

"May I ask why?"

He threw back his head. "I did not believe the Paspaheghs would
trouble her," he answered, with hardihood, "and you had n't seen
fit, sir, to tell me of the other danger. Madam wanted to go, and I
thought it a pity that she should lose her pleasure for nothing."

I had been hunting the day before, and my whip yet lay upon the
table. "I have known you for a hardy rogue," I said, with my hand
upon it; "now I know you for a faithless one as well. If I gave you
credit for all the vices of the soldier, I gave you credit also for his
virtues. I was the more deceived. The disobedient servant I might
pardon, but the soldier who is faithless to his trust" -

I raised the whip and brought it down again and again across his
shoulders. He stood without a word, his face dark red and his
hands clenched at his sides. For a minute or more there was no
sound in the room save the sound of the blows; then my wife
suddenly cried out: "It is enough! You have beaten him enough!
Let him go, sir!"

I threw down the whip. "Begone, sirrah!" I ordered. "And keep out
of my sight to-morrow!"

With his face still dark red and with a pulse beating fiercely in his
cheek, he moved slowly toward the door, turned when he had
reached it and saluted, then went out and closed it after him.

"Now he too will be your enemy," said Mistress Percy, "and all
through me. I have brought you many enemies, have I not? Perhaps
you count me amongst them? I should not wonder if you did. Do
you not wish me gone from Virginia?"

"So I were with you, madam," I said bluntly, and went to call the
minister down to supper.



CHAPTER XVI IN WHICH I AM RID OF AN UNPROFITABLE SERVANT


THE next day, Governor and Councilors sat to receive presents
from the Paspaheghs and to listen to long and affectionate
messages from Opechancanough, who, like the player queen, did
protest too much. The Council met at Yeardley's house, and I was
called before it to make my report of the expedition of the day
before. It was late afternoon when the Governor dismissed us, and
I found myself leaving the house in company with Master Pory.

"I am bound for my lord's," said that worthy as we neared the guest
house. "My lord hath Xeres wine that is the very original nectar of
the gods, and he drinks it from goblets worth a king's ransom. We
have heard a deal to-day about burying hatchets: bury thine for the
nonce, Ralph Percy, and come drink with us."

"Not I," I said. "I would sooner drink with - some one else."

He laughed. "Here's my lord himself shall persuade you."

My lord, dressed with his usual magnificence and darkly
handsome as ever, was indeed standing within the guest-house
door. Pory drew up beside him. I was passing on with a slight bow,
when the Secretary caught me by the sleeve. At the Governor's
house wine had been set forth to revive the jaded Council, and he
was already half seas over. "Tarry with us, captain!" he cried.
"Good wine's good wine, no matter who pours it! 'S bud! in my
young days men called a truce and forgot they were foes when the
bottle went round!"

"If Captain Percy will stay," quoth my lord, "I will give him
welcome and good wine. As Master Pory says, men cannot be
always fighting. A breathing spell to-day gives to-morrow's
struggle new zest."

He spoke frankly, with open face and candid eyes. I was not
fooled. If yesterday he would have slain me only in fair fight, it
was not so to-day. Under the lace that fell over his wrist was a red
cirque, the mark of the thong with which I had bound him. As if he
had told me, I knew that he had thrown his scruples to the winds,
and that he cared not what foul play he used to sweep me from his
path. My spirit and my wit rose to meet the danger. Of a sudden I
resolved to accept his invitation.

"So be it," I said, with a laugh and a shrug of my shoulders. "A cup
of wine is no great matter. I'll take it at your hands, my lord, and
drink to our better acquaintance."

We all three went up into my lord's room. The King had fitted out
his minion bravely for the Virginia voyage, and the riches that had
decked the state cabin aboard the Santa Teresa now served to
transform the bare room in the guest house at Jamestown into a
corner of Whitehall. The walls were hung with arras, there was a
noble carpet beneath as well as upon the table, and against the wall
stood richly carved trunks. On the table, beside a bowl of late
flowers were a great silver flagon and a number of goblets, some
of chased silver and some of colored glass, strangely shaped and
fragile as an eggshell. The late sun now shining in at the open
window made the glass to glow like precious stones.

My lord rang a little silver bell, and a door behind us was opened.
"Wine, Giles!" cried my lord in a raised voice. "Wine for Master
Pory, Captain Percy, and myself! And Giles, my two choice
goblets."

Giles, whom I had never seen before, advanced to the table, took
the flagon, and went toward the door, which he had shut behind
him. I negligently turned in my seat, and so came in for a glimpse,
as he slipped through the door, of a figure in black in the next
room.

The wine was brought, and with it two goblets. My lord broke off
in the midst of an account of the morning's bear-baiting which the
tediousness of the Indians had caused us to miss. "Who knows if
we three shall ever drink together again?" he said. "To honor this
bout I use my most precious cups." Voice and manner were free
and unconstrained. "This gold cup " - he held it up - "belonged to
the Medici. Master Pory, who is a man of taste, will note the
beauty of the graven m‘nads upon this side, and of the Bacchus
and Ariadne upon this. It is the work of none other than Benvenuto
Cellini. I pour for you, sir." He filled the gold cup with the ruby
wine and set it before the Secretary, who eyed it with all the
passion of a lover, and waited not for us, but raised it to his lips at
once. My lord took up the other cup. "This glass," he continued,
"as green as an emerald, freckled inside and out with gold, and
shaped like a lily, was once amongst a convent's treasures. My
father brought it from Italy, years ago. I use it as he used it, only
on gala days. I fill to you, sir." He poured the wine into the green
and gold and twisted bauble and set it before me, then filled a
silver goblet for himself. "Drink, gentlemen," he said.

"Faith, I have drunken already," quoth the Secretary, and
proceeded to fill for himself a second time. "Here's to you,
gentlemen!" and he emptied half the measure.

"Captain Percy does not drink," remarked my lord.

I leaned my elbow upon the table, and, holding up the glass against
the light, began to admire its beauty. "The tint is wonderful," I
said, "as lucent a green as the top of the comber that is to break
and overwhelm you. And these knobs of gold, within and without,
and the strange shape the tortured glass has been made to take. I
find it of a quite sinister beauty, my lord."

"It hath been much admired," said the nobleman addressed.

"I am strangely suited, my lord," I went on, still dreamily enjoying
the beauty of the green gem within my clasp. "I am a soldier with
an imagination. Sometimes, to give the rein to my fancy pleases
me more than wine. Now, this strange chalice, - might it not breed
dreams as strange?"

"When I had drunken, I think," replied my lord. "The wine would
be a potent spur to my fancy."

"What saith honest Jack Falstaff?" broke in the maudlin Secretary.
"Doth he not bear testimony that good sherris maketh the brain
apprehensive and quick; filleth it with nimble, fiery, and
delectable shapes, which being delivered by the tongue become
excellent wit? Wherefore let us drink, gentlemen, and beget
fancies." He filled for himself again, and buried his nose in the
cup.

" 'T is such a cup, methinks," I said, "as Medea may have filled for
Theseus. The white hand of Circe may have closed around this
stem when she stood to greet Ulysses, and knew not that he had the
saving herb in his palm. Goneril may have sent this green and
gilded shape to Regan. Fair Rosamond may have drunk from it
while the Queen watched her. At some voluptuous feast, C‘sar
Borgia and his sister, sitting crowned with roses, side by side, may
have pressed it upon a reluctant guest, who had, perhaps, a treasure
of his own. I dare swear Ren‚, the Florentine, hath fingered many
such a goblet before it went to whom Catherine de' Medici
delighted to honor."

"She had the whitest hands," maundered the Secretary. "I kissed
them once before she died, in Blois, when I was young. Ren‚ was
one of your slow poisoners. Smell a rose, draw on a pair of
perfumed gloves, drink from a certain cup, and you rang your own
knell, though your bier might not receive you for many and many a
day, - not till the rose was dust, the gloves lost, the cup forgotten."

"There's a fashion I have seen followed abroad, that I like," I said.
"Host and guest fill to each other, then change tankards. You are
my host to-day, my lord, and I am your guest. I will drink to you,
my lord, from your silver goblet."

With as frank a manner as his own of a while before, I pushed the
green and gold glass over to him, and held out my hand for the
silver goblet. That a man may smile and smile and be a villain is
no new doctrine. My lord's laugh and gesture of courtesy were as
free and ready as if the poisoned splendor he drew toward him had
been as innocent as a pearl within the shell. I took the silver cup
from before him. "I drink to the King," I said, and drained it to the
bottom. "Your lordship does not drink. 'T is a toast no man
refuses."

He raised the glass to his lips, but set it down before its rim had
touched them. "I have a headache," he declared. "I will not drink
to-day."

Master Pory pulled the flagon toward him, tilted it, and found it
empty. His rueful face made me laugh. My lord laughed too, -
somewhat loudly, - but ordered no more wine. "I would I were at
the Mermaid again," lamented the now drunken Secretary. "There
we did n't split a flagon in three parts. . . . The Tsar of Muscovy
drinks me down a quartern of aqua vit‘ at a gulp, - I've seen him
do it. . . .I would I were the Bacchus on this cup, with the purple
grapes adangle above me. . . . Wine and women - wine and
women. . . good wine needs no bush. . . good sherris sack" . . . His
voice died into unintelligible mutterings, and his gray unreverend
head sank upon the table.

I rose, leaving him to his drunken slumbers, and, bowing to my
lord, took my leave. My lord followed me down to the public room
below. A party of upriver planters had been drinking, and a bit of
chalk lay upon a settle behind the door upon which the landlord
had marked their score. I passed it; then turned back and picked it
up. "How long a line shall I draw, my lord?" I asked with a smile.

"How does the length of the door strike you?" he answered.

I drew the chalk from top to bottom of the wood. "A heavy Core
makes a heavy reckoning, my lord," I said, and, leaving the mark
upon the door, I bowed again and went out into the street.

The sun was sinking when I reached the minister's house, and
going into the great room drew a stool to the table and sat down to
think. Mistress Percy was in her own chamber; in the room
overhead the minister paced up and down, humming a psalm. A
fire was burning briskly upon the hearth, and the red light rose and
fell, - now brightening all the room, now leaving it to the gathering
dusk. Through the door, which I had left open, came the odor of
the pines, the fallen leaves, and the damp earth. In the churchyard
an owl hooted, and the murmur of the river was louder than usual.

I had sat staring at the table before me for perhaps half an hour,
when I chanced to raise my eyes to the opposite wall. Now, on this
wall, reflecting the firelight and the open door behind me, hung a
small Venetian mirror, which I had bought from a number of such
toys brought in by the Southampton, and had given to Mistress
Percy. My eyes rested upon it, idly at first, then closely enough as I
saw within it a man enter the room. I had heard no footfall; there
was no noise now behind me. The fire was somewhat sunken, and
the room was almost in darkness; I saw him in the glass dimly, as
shadow rather than substance. But the light was not so faint that
the mirror could not show me the raised hand and the dagger
within its grasp. I sat without motion, watching the figure in the
glass grow larger. When it was nearly upon me, and the hand with
the dagger drawn back for the blow, I sprang up, wheeled, and
caught it by the wrist.

A moment's fierce struggle, and I had the dagger in my own hand
and the man at my mercy. The fire upon the hearth seized on a
pine knot and blazed up brightly, filling the room with light.
"Diccon!" I cried, and dropped my arm.

I had never thought of this. The room was very quiet as, master
and man, we stood and looked each other in the face. He fell back
to the wall and leaned against it, breathing heavily; into the space
between us the past came thronging.

I opened my hand and let the dagger drop to the floor. "I suppose
that this was because of last night," I said. "I shall never strike you
again."

I went to the table, and sitting down leaned my forehead upon my
hand. It was Diccon who would have done this thing! The fire
crackled on the hearth as had crackled the old camp fires in
Flanders; the wind outside was the wind that had whistled through
the rigging of the Treasurer, one terrible night when we lashed
ourselves to the same mast and never thought to see the morning.
Diccon!

Upon the table was the minister's inkhorn and pen. I drew my
tablets from the breast of my doublet and began to write.
"Diccon!" I called, without turning, when I had finished.

He came slowly forward to the table, and stood beside it with
hanging head. I tore the leaf from the book and pushed it over to
him. "Take it," I ordered.

"To the commander?" he asked. "I am to take it to the
commander?"

I shook my head. "Read it."

He stared at it vacantly, turning it now this way, now that.

"Did you forget how to read when you forgot all else?" I said
sternly.

He read, and the color rushed into his face.

"It is your freedom," I said. "You are no longer man of mine.
Begone, sirrah!"

He crumpled the paper in his hand. "I was mad," he muttered.

"I could almost believe it," I replied. "Begone!"

After a moment he went. Sitting still in my place, I heard him
heavily and slowly leave the room, descend the step at the door,
and go out into the night.

A door opened, and Mistress Jocelyn Percy came into the great
room, like a sunbeam strayed back to earth. Her skirt was of
flowered satin, her bodice of rich taffeta; between the gossamer
walls of her French ruff rose the whitest neck to meet the fairest
face. Upon her dark hair sat, as lightly as a kiss, a little
pearl-bordered cap. A color was in her cheeks and a laugh on her
lips. The rosy light of the burning pine caressed her, - now
dwelling on the rich dress, now on the gold chain around the
slender waist, now on rounded arms, now on the white forehead
below the pearls. Well, she was a fair lady for a man to lay down
his life for.

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