About dusk that day, as Martin was passing through the courtyard, some one touched him on the shoulder. He turned, and found himself looking into Peter Swartz’s face. The soldier gave a significant jerk of the head, closed one eye, and lounged casually1 in the direction of the doorway2 opening on the garden. The courtyard was full of men who had been cooking and eating their supper; one side of it had been turned into a stable; the south-east corner had become a kitchen where a huge fire blazed. The men lay about on piles of bracken, their arms hanging from wooden pegs3 that had been driven into the wall. There seemed to be an abundance of ale. One of the women from Gawdy Town was sitting on a saddle and singing to the men, while she thrummed her lute4. Martin had to pass close to her, and she looked at him insolently5 and laughed.
Martin followed Swartz into the garden. The place was so wild and overgrown and tangled6 that no one troubled to enter it, save when there was a reason for lying concealed7. Swartz was waiting by the yews8 near the sundial, and Martin joined him.
“A word with you, man.”
His eyes were restless and alert.
“Come this way, under the nut trees. Those sluts are still at supper, and not looking for dark corners.”
They pushed into the tunnel of leaves and stood listening. Then Swartz began.
“The Forest is full of swine, and I go elsewhere. Look to yourself.”
He jerked a thumb toward the house.
“Swine! I know the nature of the beasts. If I stayed here a day longer I should have my throat slit9, just to make matters certain. Dead men need not be watched.”
He drew Martin close to him.
“Guard yourself, my friend; the pigs do not love you. If you are wise you will come with me and leave these gentry10 to be hunted by my Lord of Troy. Thunder, but what a man-at-arms I could make of you! In France and in Italy a good sword wins much gold; they offer you a gay life, plenty of wine, and honor to be won. These English have no souls; they are all butchers and brewers.”
He looked into Martin’s face.
“What say you? Would she come also? Three comrades in arms! I have money on me; you can buy any ship-master, and he will sail you to hell or heaven. Come—what do you say?”
Martin’s answer showed on his face.
“Swartz, no man has been more brotherly to me——”
“Damnation, man, I have a sort of foolish liking11 for you. Good men are rare, men who can fight, and throw the whole world over for a bit of honor. And here they are ready to play some foul12 trick on you.”
“Swartz—I cannot come.”
“And why not, man? If——”
“I have a doom13 here to work out; I feel it in my blood. Nor would she go—as yet.”
“Try her.”
“No; the word would come from her—if it ever came. I stay here, on guard, her man-at-arms. I have set myself on this path, and I shall not leave it.”
Swartz knew his man, and that he was not to be persuaded.
“One word. I shall make for Gawdy Town; I shall lie there for seven days; if your mind changes you will find Swartz at a tavern14 near the harbor, at the sign of the ‘Crossed Keys.’ Much may happen in seven days.”
They gripped hands.
“Look to yourself, Martin.”
“There are things a man never forgets.”
“Tush! I have the soul of a soldier. Remember the ‘Crossed Keys.’ ”
When Martin Valliant went to his post that night outside the door of Mellis’s room he found a drunken man trying to open her door. It was barred on the inside, but the fellow was fumbling15 with the latch16, sottishly enraged17 and babbling18 oaths. Martin took him by the shoulder, sent him rolling down the stairs, and followed to see whether he betrayed any desire to return. The man went down the newel stairway with absurd contortions19, like a beetle20 rolling over and over and kicking as he rolled. He gathered himself up at the bottom, clasped his head between his hands, and disappeared unsteadily through the doorway.
Martin returned to the landing outside Mellis’s room, and stood listening.
“Mellis!”
Her voice ............