XXIV

The horse he had snatched was a fleet curtal bay, and responded readily enough to the clap of heels to his flanks. Sir Nicholas held him on his course with a hard hand, heard behind him shouts and the trampling of the horses he had cut loose by his sudden onslaught on the guard who held them, and pressed on. The noise died away, only the pounding of the bay’s hooves on the track now broke the stillness.

Where the track came out on the post-road a crowd was gathered, peering and listening. The news of the guards’ coming and the prey they sought had spread through the village; there were assembled now some peasants, agape, and servants of the Carvalho estate, fingering staves. Lanterns bobbed and twinkled amongst them, but the moon was coming up, and a faint grey light already made the lanterns superfluous.

Sir Nicholas saw what awaited him, and rode down into the small crowd like a thunderbolt. There was a surge forward to cut him off, a flurry of agitated shouting, and the scurry of feet, and the bay horse was amongst them. Confusion reigned, some trying to fling themselves out of the way of the plunging hooves, others striking wildly at the lithe figure atop of the maddened horse. The bay was rearing and snorting with fright, wrenched aside to evade a murderous blow from a club, backing into a group of peasants, who gave precipitately, gripped by an insistent pair of knees. Sir Nicholas’ sword flashed aloft, wielded like a flail. He forced a way through, the serfs falling back before his irresistible path, tumbling over one another in their haste to get away from this demon’s reach. The hand on the bridle was slackened, the bay horse was away, ridden hard to the south, towards the track that led eastwards to the Frontier.

There were men on the road, dotted here and there, stragglers hurrying to see the capture of a pirate; they sprang aside instinctively to give place to the mad, runaway horse that bore down on them, and saw in the grey light a straight rider with a naked sword in his hand. Some crossed themselves, some yelled an alarm, but no one offered El Beauvallet hindrance.

The road to the east was found; Sir Nicholas forced the bay in to a more sober pace, and turned down the track. By the shout that was raised behind him he knew that his way was marked. The villagers might be trusted to direct the soldiers aright. Sir Nicholas settled down to a canter, feeling his way, as it were, along the track. The ground seemed level enough, grown over here and there with sparse, shifting turf. To either side scrubby bushes were scattered, with a few trees rearing up amongst them.

Behind came gradually the muffled sound of the pursuit. Sir Nicholas spurred on, mile upon mile, left the road for the flat pastureland that ran beside it, and galloped on, the sound of his flight deadened by the soft earth. The curtal horse shook his fine head a little, feeling a race in the air as the hand on his bridle slackened, lengthened his easy stride, and took hold of the bit in good earnest.

The trees grew more thickly now, oaks, Sir Nicholas guessed, and presently a black wall seemed to rise up ahead. The track curved slightly, and plunged into a great forest of oak trees. The branches, in full leaf, shut out the moonlight from the depths of the forest; only the track was faintly illuminated where the silver light filtered through the almost interlocking branches.

Sir Nicholas reined in, head up and ears straining, listening. Faintly, very far away, came the sound of horses on the road.

He swung himself down from the saddle, passed a hand over the bay’s steaming neck, and led him into the dusk of the forest.

The horse was restless and fidgeting, but a gentling hand stilled him after a while. He stood quiet, stretched down his neck, and began lipping at some fallen leaves on the ground.

Nearer and nearer, like approaching thunder came the sound of horses on the road, ridden desperately. Up came the bay’s head; the ears went forward. Sir Nicholas’ hand slid to the satin nose; the pursuit sounded closer still, and Sir Nicholas’ long fingers gripped tightly, checking the imminent whinny.

The riders swept up and past; they were so close Sir Nicholas could hear the horses’ hard breathing and the creak of the saddle-girths. He held tight to the bay’s nose, and waited for the soldiers to pass.

They were gone in a moment, riding close-wedged, hell-for-leather. In a little while all sound of them had died; they were away, making for the Frontier road, and it would take a deal to stop them with their dogged purpose firm in their minds.

Sir Nicholas relaxed his grip on the bay’s nose and laughed. “Oh, ye bisson fools!” he said. “Ride on, ride on: ye will have but a cold welcome at the end. So, boy, so!” He led the bay back on to the road, mounted again, and set him at an easy canter along the track towards Vasconosa.

Dominica, tossed up on to a horse before Joshua, clung tight by the saddlebow, and tried to speak. Joshua’s hand covered her mouth imperatively; he struck off through the wood at a walking pace, making westwards.

As soon as he judged it to be safe he bore round a little to meet the track again, came upon it some quarter of a mile beyond the lodge, and kicked his horse to a gallop.

Dominica tried to see his face. “No, no, back, I say! back! What, will you leave him? Coward! Oh, base! Back to him, I implore you!”

Joshua torn with anxiety, sore at his enforced flight, was in no humour to be patient. “Rest you, mistress, we must make Villanova.”

She leaned forward to tug at the bridle. “You are leaving him to be slain! Turn, turn! Oh dastard, cur, craven!”

“Ho! Fine holiday and lady terms these!” said Joshua, bristling. “Know then, mistress, that were it not for you I would be beside Sir Nicholas now, and had liefer be there, God wot! A plague on all women, say I! What, do I bear you off for my pleasure? Out, out, señorita! These are my master’s orders, and an evil day it is that hears him give such ones. Let go the rein, I tell you!”

Her fingers were on his bridle hand, clinging, cajoling. “No, no, I did not mean it, but turn, Joshua! For the love of God, set me down and go you back! I will lie close, I will do as you bid me, only go you back to aid Sir Nicholas!”

“And get a broken head for my pains,” said Joshua. “My master’s an ill man to cross, señorita. Nay, nay, we who sail with Laughing Nick must do as we are bid, come weal, come woe. Content you, he has his plans well laid, I warrant you.”

Words tumbled from her lips. She begged, stormed, commanded and coaxed. “I am not the worth of his life!” she said again and again.

“Well, I doubt there would be a fine reckoning between us if Sir Nicholas heard me agree with you,” remarked Joshua. “Therefore I keep a still tongue in my head.”

“God knows what I said or did not say upon that ride,” he afterwards recounted. “Maybe my mistress and I bandied some hard words to and fro, but I bore her no malice, nor did she ever after hold it against me. Which is something remarkable in a woman, I hold.”

No sound of pursuit came after them; Joshua allowed his horse to slacken the pace somewhat, and presently drew in to a steady trot. Dominica was quiet now, but her face looked pinched in the moonlight. Joshua, himself not much lighter-hearted, was moved to offer words of comfort. “Cheerly, mistress, we shall have Sir Nicholas with us this night.”

She turned her eyes towards him. “How can he fight all those men single-handed?”

“Mark me, if he does not fob them off with some trick,” said Joshua stoutly. “Maybe you did not believe that he would break free of that prison, señorita, but he did it. Keep a good heart.” He saw her clouded eyes. “By your good leave, mistress, and with respect, I would say that El Beauvallet’s lady should wear a smiling face.”

She did smile, but faintly. “Yes, she should indeed,” she answered. She bit her lip. “I saw him for so fleeting a moment!”

“Patience, mistress; I am bold to say you will hear the bustle of his coming in a little while.”

They came to Villanova past ten o’clock at night and fetched up at the inn. “More lies!” said Joshua. “Leave all to me, lady.” He lifted her down from the saddle and proceeded to create a stir. “Ho, there! Room for the noble señora! What, I say! Landlord!”

A portly individual came out of the lighted taproom and stared in amazement at Dominica. She reflected that she must look oddly enough, riding over the countryside at such an hour without cloak or hood or even horse.

“The good-year!” cried out Joshua, voluble. “Eh me, but this has been an evening’s work! A chamber for my mistress, and supper on the instant! The noble señor follows us close.”

The landlord’s eyes slowly ran over Dominica. “What’s this?” he said suspiciously.

Doña Dominica stepped forward; she, too, could play a part. “A chamber, landlord, and at once,” she said haughtily. “Do you keep me standing in the road?”

Joshua bowed his lady into the inn. “Brigands, man!” he shot over his shoulder. “A party of three, and my lady’s horse shot under her. Ah, what an ill-chance!”

“Brigands? Jesu preserve us!” The landlord crossed himself. “But the señor?”

“Oh, be sure my master is on the villains’ heels!” Joshua invented. “ ‘What,’ cries he, ‘shall this go unpunished?’ The rogues made off with our sumpters, and nothing will do but my master must give chase, leaving me to get the gracious señora under cover. Oh, a very fire-eater!”

Dominica interposed in the voice of one accustomed to command. “A bedchamber with your best speed, host, and supper against Don Tomas’ coming.”

Her tone had its calculated effect. She was evidently a lady of quality, and as such the landlord bowed to her. That he was suspicious, however, was plain.

“And well he might be!” said Joshua Dimmock. “An unlikely tale, I grant you, but by this time I was grown barren of lies, a very uncommon thing in me.”

Doña Dominica was shown upstairs to a chamber of fair size and appointments. She sank into a chair, and said pettishly for the benefit of the landlord: “It was you who should have chased those knaves, Pedro.” She hunched a shoulder. “Don Tomas is too impetuous. To send me off so, and himself to tarry!” She became aware of the puzzled landlord. “Well, fellow, well? What do you want?” she demanded.

He bowed himself out, assuring her that supper should be provided against her lord’s coming. A glimpse of a double ducat negligently fingered by Joshua decided him to keep his suspicions in abeyance. Double ducats were not so plentiful in this village that a man could afford to run the risk of losing one.

Joshua nodded briskly, and made a significant gesture of a down-thrust thumb. “We shall do very well,” he said. “Now, señorita, with your good leave I shall go get the pack from off my nag’s back. I must hope that Sir Nicholas brings on his own jennet, for the most of his raiment is upon it, and I can very plainly hear him calling in the morn for a clean shirt and a clean ruff too.”

He took Beauvallet’s coming so much for granted that Dominica began to feel that he would come indeed. She laughed, and looked down at her tumbled riding dress. “A clean ruff for Sir Nicholas! Pray you, what will you do for me who have no clothes at all but what you see me in?”

Joshua shook his head. “A very pungent question, señora, I allow. This should have been looked to. But thus it is ever when my master is in this humour! I doubt he will have lost his pack and that scabbard beside. But there is never any ho with him. Reck Not! Ah, do I not know it? In we dash, and if we come off with our skins you may say it is a miracle.”

He went down to collect his pack, to see his horse stabled, and fed, and to order a rear-banquet for the lady. She was served in her chamber, and the covers left on the table against Beauvallet’s coming. The landlord had by this time very little doubt but that he entertained noble guests. What their mysterious errand was he could not guess, though he was inclined, saving only the incomprehensible absence of the master, to suspect an elopement. But Joshua’s demeanour alone convinced him of the quality of the lady he served. None but a great noble’s man, thought the landlord, would show such a high hand as Joshua’s. There must be a cold capon prepared against his master’s coming. What, had he no better wine than this poor stuff? Let him make haste to his cellar and fetch up a bottle of the best he had. Where were the suckets? Was my lady to sit down at table to naught but a scraggy fowl and a neat’s tongue? Out upon him! The landlord should learn that a lady of his mistress’ standing was not to be so used.

He waited upon Dominica himself, and was inclined to be severe with her when she showed so little appetite. She looked up at him with large, frightened eyes. “He does not come,” she said.

“Patience, patience, señorita, he is not a bird!” said Joshua testily. “If he got away he was to lead the Guards off on a wrong scent towards the Frontier. It would never do to have them on our heels, mistress, for you cannot ride as we might have to in such a strait.”

“I can ride very well if I am allowed,” she said meekly.

Time wore on. A few last loiterers in the taproom went off homewards; candles were snuffed below stairs, and the inn grew quiet. Joshua had bespoken a chamber for his master, and a fire to be lit in Dominica’s room, judging with some shrewdness that its friendly crackle and glow would do more to comfort her than any words of his.

She sat by it trying to keep her courage up, and from time to time looked anxiously at Joshua. She would not have him leave her; she would not hear of going to bed for all his pleading. He might bully and override her in most things, she said, but he could not make her rest until she knew Sir Nicholas to be safe.

“I shall take leave to say, señorita, that there is a long day ahead of you, and you would do well to get what sleep you may.”

“I will not!” she said, her old spirit rearing up its head. And there the matter rested.

It was close on midnight when they heard the sound of an approaching horseman. Joshua lifted a finger and threw out his chest. “Ah, señora! ah! What said I? Ho, trust Beauvallet!” He went to the window and pushed it open.

Dominica was on her feet, clasping her hands, “It may not be. It may be a soldier in search of me. I cannot think.⁠ ⁠…”

The horse was reined in under the window. “Holà, there!” rang out Beauvallet’s voice. He looked up at the front of the inn and saw Joshua craning from the window. “God’s Death, Joshua, what makes you there? Come down and let me in!”

Dominica sank back into her chair, almost stunned with relief. Joshua was making for the door. “Ay, ay, thus it goes,” he said. “Briskly, recklessly, with never a thought to who may be listening. Ah, madcap!” He went out, and Dominica heard him clatter down the stairs and draw back the bolts of the door below, shouting to the awakened landlord as he did so that all was well. Then a light step sounded on the stairs, the door was opened, and the next instant Dominica was folded in Beauvallet’s arms.