Chapter XX: Of How Sir Richard Came to the Shepherd's Hut, and the Return of Tyrrell

It was not above a few swift winks of the eye till Sir Richard had flung himself from off the back of his frothing stallion and was within the hut's door.

"Dick!" exclaimed its solitary occupant, rising upon a lean elbow. "I'm damned, an it be not yourself, ... eh?" Then, sternly, as the young knight made toward the pallet of rushes whereupon he was outstretched: "Betake you out of this accursed place," he shouted. "Do you want to get you the sweating sickness?"

"An it had been the sweating sickness," said Sir Richard, advancing to the sick warrior's side and grasping his woefully thin hand, "I'd have found nothing here beyond a moldering corpse. This four years, de Claverlok, has the sweating sickness slept. 'Tis but some devastating fever brought with you from out of the dungeon in Castle Yewe. You'll get you well, man, I know it."

"Meseems I know it, too, Sir Dick," agreed the grizzled warrior weakly. "By the mass, 'tis the very first day I've had the courage to swear, ... eh! And a good monk for auditor, too. The Christian fellow shrove me through yon open door. A murrain upon you, Dick! and how is 't you're here? And after cutting me some ten stone of stout rope in my eye, ... Ingrate!"

After this good-natured outburst de Claverlok threw himself back upon the rush-mat, breathing heavily. Noting that his pallor had somewhat increased, Sir Richard begged him to remain quiet, the while he would recount his adventures since parting from him upon the runway of the tower. "God's sake! but there's a woman for you, ... a king-maker, Dick," he made a muttered comment, when the young knight gave him the story of Lady Anna. He went on with his tale, and had just come to that part of it where he had stumbled so unexpectedly upon the Red Tavern, when----

"Richard!" a firm and musical voice called from outside; and then again, "Richard!"

"Wait. 'Tis the maid herself," said the young knight, going obediently to the door.

"My dearest friend on earth is in that hut, Isabel," he said, stepping to the side of her palfrey; "and sick well nigh to death. 'Twill be my duty and pleasure to remain by his side. When I have nursed him back to health, I shall be free. Until then, you must consent to await me in Castle Yewe. 'Tis not far, Isabel. But over the hills, there. You'll do this thing for me?"

"And a right pretty nurse you'd make," observed Isabel breezily, slipping at once from off the round back of her palfrey. "Why, Richard, my generous boy," said she, "you have sore trouble in looking after your own tangled affairs. An he be your friend, right gladly will I attend to the nursing of him myself. Happily, some experience have I had of such matters."

Then, in her usual masterful way, she bade the foot-boys strip the bags off her horse and started for the hut door. With more of admiration for the maid than Sir Richard had felt since their meeting, he followed her brisk steps through the door.

After that there was nothing left for him to do but run upon errands. It would be--"Richard, do you do so?" and "Richard, do you do thus?" "Richard, ride you to the nearest goodwife and fetch me a gourd of goat's milk," or a measure of stum, or whatever other toothsome thing it chanced to be. Sir Richard was soon thinking that his friend's lean body must have grown to be a receptacle for all of the dainties from the multitude of hills about them. Almost every hour of the day he might have been seen careering over their round summits.

The clever foot-boys made over the lean-to into a quite habitable dwelling, thatching its sides and top with dried grass from off the meadow. Within its shelter Sir Richard and Harold and Thomas ate, slept, and loitered away the time.

There was a quaint old Scots herdsman who used often to visit them, bringing with him upon every such occasion his bagpipes, whereupon he could play with an uncommon deftness. It was this same simple, good-hearted herdsman who had looked in on de Claverlok twice or three times every day while the warrior was alone during the interval of his sickness. Sir Richard tried in many ways to make him the richer, or rather the less poor, because of the timely succor he had brought his friend, but the old herdsman would have none of the young knight's nobles.

It seemed curious to Sir Richard that, among the countless gruesome legends and wild tales that Kimbuchie had ever ready at his tongue's end, there was the same one of the Red Tavern that he had heard so often repeated whilst riding with Belwiggar along the Sauchieburn Pass. Good Tammas would not have it that twice the young knight had been beneath its roof, and was yet there before him to tell the tale. "Awell, lad," he would say, "awell. I ken well thou'st a muckle lang tongue betwixt thy teeth, ... a muckle lang tongue."

Following the first two or three days of their arrival, there remained but little for Sir Richard to do within the sick knight's quarters. Isabel had both a keen eye and a right willing hand. By stretching the tent cloth across one side of the room she secured to herself a fair sized retiring room of her own. She appeared to take a positive delight in the task of transforming the rude and not over clean interior of the hut into a place that was neat, cozy, and altogether inviting.

Sir Richard began to wonder why, in such a pleasing environment, de Claverlok was not making a more rapid progress toward health. They had been there now nearly a fortnight, and he appeared to have gained but little, if anything, in the way of weight or strength. Indeed, after the first day or two the sick knight had fallen into an unusual and melancholy silence. Often Sir Richard would steal a glance at him through the window, and always he would see him idly plucking at his coverings, the while his big, hollow eyes would be bent upon every movement of his fair nurse.

"Richard!" Isabel called to him one morning while he was having breakfast in the lean-to. It was just past dawn, with the sun painting a rose-glory above the eastern hills. When the young knight went to her she was standing just outside the closed door of the hut. He remarked to himself how pale seemed her face in despite of the sun's warm reflection upon it.

"What is it, Isabel?" he inquired, feeling a vague apprehension as to the welfare of his friend.

"'Tis this, Richard," said Isabel gravely, "one of the foot-boys must you post me on to Bannockburn. Counsel him to bring instantly a leech, ... the best in the town. I would e'en send you, but you may be needed here."

"I pray you, Isabel, tell me not that he is worse."

"I fear me.... Ah! Much I fear me that you are soon to lose your friend," Isabel answered drearily.

In all haste Sir Richard filled Harold's wallet with coins and sent him clipping above the hills toward Bannockburn, whereupon he sat down upon a boulder, yielding himself to the gloomiest of reflections. He was staring, with chin buried deep in his hands, along the winding roadway. Upon a sudden, looming gaunt against the sky, he saw the familiar figure of the knight in black riding slowly over the hills. Hurrying to the opposite side of the hut, Sir Richard stood outside the window and signed Isabel to come out.

"Make haste; what is it? Your friend has but this moment begged to speak with you in private," said she, when she had joined the young knight outside.

"Tyrrell is approaching in this direction," said Sir Richard. "I saw him but now riding over the northern hill."

"Give thanks to God!" exclaimed Isabel with an earnest and deep fervor, clasping tightly together her white hands.

"Why, because that you shall now be discovered?"

"Nay; what care I for that, ... now! But because yonder tyrant," she hurriedly went on, leading Sir Richard to the side of the cabin whence Tyrrell could be seen, "is a cunning chymist, a famous physician, ... a student of Linacre. Go, join your friend, ... but have a care, excite him not. I'll await my uncle here."

For days Sir Richard had noted a change in Isabel's manner. Bit by bit she seemed to have grown more grave and thoughtful, and less breezily abrupt in her way of speaking. He had remarked the humility with which she obeyed de Claverlok's slightest wish. Upon this morning she had displayed a depth of feeling of which he had considered her quite incapable. In seeking out the reason as he was making his way into the hut, the answer dawned suddenly upon him. He understood.

"Well, my good friend de Claverlok," said he, with an attempt to be cheerful, as he came beside the sick man's bed. "Methought that by now you would be on horse and a-tilting."

"Hark thee, Dick," de Claverlok whispered. "I'll be a-tilting with the devil by to-morrow, ... eh!" whereupon he smiled, a wan, brave smile. Then, looking soberly up into the young knight's eyes--"Dick, ... friend, ... I have a confession to make ere I lay down my last lance," he said. "God's sake! To think that I should play the fool at my age, ... two score and four, come the seventeenth day of next month--" he paused for a space, drooping his dimmed eyes. "But to my confession: I meant no harm, ... God wot, my boy, and I intended not to do it, Dick; ... but I loved the maid with whom your troth is plighted from the moment her dainty foot stepped across yon sill.... I ask your forgiveness----"

"De Claverlok, ... dear old friend, ... are you serious?"

"Serious, ... eh?"

"God of my fathers! Do you mean it?" Sir Richard fervently exclaimed. "An this be imperiling your precious life, take her, man, and let health return upon you."

Thereupon the grizzled knight discovered a strength wherewith to frown.

"'Tis most unseemly this, ... most unseemly, ... eh! And you, Dick, with your troth but fresh----"

"De Claverlok," interrupted Sir Richard firmly, "no promises have passed. She thinks me but a silly youth--which is true.... I am. Isabel cares not a fig for me, nor, by my faith, do I for her! We shall never wed. Get you back inside your coat of mail and make her happy, for she loves you, my friend. I read it in her sad eyes but this moment gone."

"Say you truly, Dick? God's sake, boy, you--you, ... but when I get me inside my harness I'll have a lance at you, Dick, for saying somewhat against her."

Sir Richard pressed then the fevered hand that the sick man tried to lift within his. Whereupon de Claverlok smiled, and, sighing happily, seemed to fall into a deep and peaceful sleep.

When the young knight stepped lightly through the door he saw Tyrrell seated upon his horse, with Isabel pleading at his stirrup for him to dismount and wait upon the sick man.

"Attend upon my words, Sir Richard Rohan," Tyrrell said as the young knight drew beside them. "This ungrateful maid, having withdrawn herself by stealth from beneath the shelter of my roof, now desires me to succor a knight of whom she is enamored. Let her first take solemn oath, in thy presence, that she will not journey inside of Castle Yewe. Nor shall she, an she be carried there by force, make known my plans to Douglas. As to her inheritance: I have it safe invested, and will yield her warrant to have it delivered into her hands either in Glasgow or in London. Art thou witness to this?"

"Yea, Sir James, I am."

"Isabel Savoy," resumed Tyrrell, "do thou lift up thy right hand to Heaven and swear?"

She looked at the two men with big eyes, proudly, her lips firmly set. It was as though the victory was hers. She took the oath.

"And now, a word with thee, Sir Richard," grim Tyrrell said, turning toward the young knight. "The man stricken within is thy dearest friend, I have been told. Mayhap I can save him to thee; mayhap not. Everything of skill that I possess shall be used in his behalf, an thou wilt agree upon thy knightly word to return with me anon to the Red Tavern and listen there to some things that I have to say. Thy honest word, ... 'twill be sufficient?"

"I give it willingly," Sir Richard said.

"Then assist me to dismount.... I'm sorry, sore, and lame. Friend Douglas, suspecting something of my conniving at thy escape, Sir Richard, gave me a bit taste of the torture. Whereupon, learning nothing from my sealed lips, apologized, and set me free. He would have done for me for all, an he dared. Beshrew me, though, an I can see how thou art still abroad, with all of the Douglas forces searching so diligently for thee. Thy proximity to his citadel it must have been that hath saved thee."

Sir Richard remarked that he was looking exceedingly pale, seeming old and decrepit when compared with his sturdy appearance upon the day that he had shattered lances with him in the lists. The young knight helped him to dismount and led him, cursing at every step, to the door of the hut.

"I should have known," Tyrrell said to Sir Richard, upon joining him in the thatched lean-to about an hour later, "that faithful de Claverlok would be somewhere in thy vicinity. Prithee, and how is 't? Tell me, Sir Richard?"

"Suffer me first to hear news of my friend," said the young knight. "Thinkest thou that he will make a return to his old good health?"

"Methinks he is sore in love with the maiden, Isabel," Tyrrell answered, nodding his head and smiling grimly. "Well--'tis a most powerful stimulating nostrum. An I miss not my guess, he'll get him well."

Thereupon, with a right good heart, Sir Richard recounted to Tyrrell the story of his travels with de Claverlok.

"And dost tell me that he has been all of these days in thy company without divulging word of our plans, or of thy part therein?"

"Not one word--his knightly vow withheld his honest tongue. But I am certes ready to hear them now," declared Sir Richard.

"God wot, but there's a man to maintain his knightly vow! Though 'twould have been better had he broken faith and told thee of some things. So thou art ready to listen now, Sir Richard? Well, there's a good reason for thy desire to become acquainted with these mysterious haps. But, have patience yet a little time. Everything shalt thou know when we return to the tavern; ... everything, Sir Richard."

After that he sat for a long space, smiling, rubbing his hands together, and muttering to himself. Upon returning to himself, he commanded the foot-boy, Thomas, to bring him his saddle-bags. Taking from them many packages, herbs and powders, he called Isabel to him and instructed her as to the manner in which they should be administered. When he was done, she signed Sir Richard with her eyes to follow her outside.

"He will soon be well, Richard," she said, taking the young knight's hand. "And now, boy, you are free--and happy, too, I make no doubt. Ah! What hosts of enemies have my sharp tongue made for me! But I'll curb it now, Richard--I've found its master," she added, laughing lightly, and thereupon went tripping through the cabin door.