CHAPTER XXXVI
HOW THEY RODE TO INCHBOURNE
"And what time doth the moon rise, Zebedee?" enquired the Major as they swung their horses into the high road.
"Ten forty-five about, your honour,"
"Then we've no need for hurry. And egad Zeb, it sounds a wild story!"
"It do so, sir, cock and bullish as you might say."
"To abduct my lady, Zeb!"
"On Saturday night next as ever was, your honour."
"And this is Friday night!" said the Major thoughtfully.
"Which do give us good time to circumvent enemy's manoover."
"How many of the rogues will be there, think you?"
"Can't say for sure, sir. 'Twas three on 'em as ambushed me t'other night."
"Why as to that Zeb, as to that I imagine you brought that drubbing on yourself by your somewhat frequent and indiscriminate—er—pewter-play as 'twere."
"Mayhap sir, though if so be rogues were same rogues I should ha' knowed same, though to be sure 'twere a darkish night and they were masked. Howsobe, my Lord Medhurst pinked one of 'em, his point was prettily bloodied."
"Are you armed, Zeb?"
"Nought to speak of, sir."
"What have you?"
"A sword sir, and a brace o' travelling-pistols as chanced to lay handy which, with your honour's, maketh four shot, two swords and a bagnet."
"Lord, Zeb, we're not going up against a troop!" said the Major, smiling in the dark, "and why the bayonet?"
"'Tis the one I used for to carry when we were on outpost duty at night, sir—the one as I had shortened for the purpose, your honour. You'll mind as there's nought like a short, stiff bagnet when 'tis a case o' silence. And as for a troop you ha'n't forgot the time as we routed that company o' Bavarian troopers, you and me, sir, thereby proving the advantages o' the element o' surprise?"
"Aye, those were desperate times, Zebedee."
"Mighty different to these, sir."
"Aye, truly, truly!" said the Major, gently.
"But if there is to be a little bit o' cut and thrust work to-night, your honour, 'tis as well to be prepared."
"You think old Betty is to be relied on, Zeb?"
"Aye sir, I do."
"None the less I'm glad my lady Carlyon knoweth nought o' the matter, 'tis best, I think, to keep it from her—at least until we are sure, moreover 'tis like enough she—" the Major paused to rub his chin dubiously, "'tis very like she would only——"
"Laugh, your honour?"
"Hum!" said the Major.
"Lord sir, but she's a woundy fine spirit!" exclaimed the Sergeant.
"True, Zeb, very true!" The Major nodded. "Yet I would she were a thought less venturesome and—ah—contrary at times as 'twere, Zeb——"
"Contrairy, sir? Lord love me, there you have it! Woman is a contrairy sect, 'tis born in 'em! Look at Mrs. Agatha, contrairiness ain't no word for same!"
"How so, Zeb?"
"Why, d'ye see sir, when thinking I'd soon be under marching orders—you then talking o' campaigning again—there's me don't venter to open my mind to her touching matrimony though her a-giving me chances for same constant. To-day here's me—you being settled and wi' no wish for foreign fields—here's me, d'ye see, looking for chances and occasions to speak wedlock and such constant and her giving me no chances what-so-ever. And that's woman, sir!"
They rode at a gentle, ambling pace and with no sound to disturb the brooding night-silence except the creak of their saddles and the thudding of their horses' hoofs dulled and muffled in the dust of the road. A hushed and windless night full of the quivering glamour of stars whose soft effulgence lent to hedge and tree and all things else a vague and solemn beauty; and riding with his gaze uplifted to this heavenly host, the Major thought of Life and Death and many other things, yet mostly of my lady Elizabeth Carlyon, while Sergeant Zebedee, gazing at nothing in particular, dreamed also.
"'Tis as well she should learn nought of the ugly business!" said the Major at last.
"But sir, Mrs. Agatha——"
"I mean her ladyship, Zebedee."
"Aye, aye for sure, sir, for sure!"
"And if there be indeed villainy afoot—if there is, why then egad, Sergeant Zeb, I'll not rest until I know who is at the bottom on't!"
"Aye—who, sir? 'Tis what we're a-going to find out to-night I do hope. And when we do find out, sir—how then?"
"Why then, Zeb—ha, then—we shall see, we shall see!"
After this they rode on in silence awhile, the Major staring up at the glory of the stars again.
"If so be we should be so fortuned as to come in for a little bit o' roughsome to-night, your honour," said the Sergeant thoughtfully, "you'd find this here bludgeon a vast deal handier than your sword and play very sweet at close quarters, sir."
"By the way, Zebedee, I think you once told me you surprised—er—Mr. Dalroyd i' the orchard one night?"
"I did so, your honour."
"And did you chance to—ah—to see his face, to observe his features clear and distinct, as 'twere, Zeb?"
"Aye, sir."
"Well?"
"Aye, very well, sir!"
By this time they had reached the cross-roads and here the Major checked his horse suddenly, whereupon Sergeant Zebedee did likewise.
"Sergeant!"
"Sir?"
The Major leaned from his saddle until he could peer into the Sergeant's eyes.
"Did Mr. Dalroyd remind you of—of anyone you have ever seen before?"
"Of Captain Effingham as your honour killed years agone."
"Ah!" said the Major and sat awhile frowning up at the stars. "So you likewise marked the resemblance, did you, Zeb?"
"I did so, sir."
"And what did you think——"
"Why sir, that Captain Effingham having been killed ten years agone, is very dead indeed, by this time!"
"Supposing he wasn't killed—how then, Zeb?"
"Why then sir he was alive arter all—though he looked dead enough."
"'Twas a high chest-thrust you'll mind, Zeb."
"Base o' the throat, sir."
"Why have you never mentioned your suspicions, Zebedee?"
"Because, your honour, 'tis ever my tactics to let sleeping dogs lie—bygones is bygones and what is, is. If, on t'other hand Mr. Dalroyd's Captain Effingham which God forbid, then all I says is—what is, ain't. Furthermore and moreover Mr. Dalroyd would be the last man I'd ha' you cross blades with on account o' the Captain's devilish sword-play—that thrust of his in carte nigh did your honour's business ten years ago, consequently to-day I hold my peace regarding suspicions o' same."
"D'ye think he'd—kill me, Zeb?"
"I know 'twould sure be one or t'other o' ye, sir."
"And that's true enough!" said the Major and rode on again. "None the less, Zeb," said he after awhile, "none the less he shall have another opportunity of trying that thrust if, as I think, he is at the bottom of this vile business."
But now they were drawing near to Inchbourne village and, reining up, the Major glanced about him:
"What of our horses, Zebedee?" he questioned. "'Twill never do to go clattering through the village at this hour."
"No more 'twill, sir. Old Bet's cottage lieth a good mile and a half t'other side Inchbourne, d'ye see. Further on is a lane that fetcheth a circuit about the village—this way, your honour." So they presently turned off into a narrow and deep-rutted lane that eventually brought them out upon a desolate expanse with the loom of woods beyond.
"Yonder's a spinney, sir, 'tis there we'll leave our horses."
Riding in among the trees they dismounted and led their animals into the depths of the wood until they came to a little dell well hidden in the brush. Here, having securely tethered their horses they sat down to wait the moonrise.
"Sir," said the Sergeant, settling pistols in pockets, "this doth mind me o' the night we lay in such another wood as this, the night we stormed Douai, you'll mind I was wounded just arter we carried the counterscarp——"
"By a pike-thrust meant for me, Zeb."
"'Twas a pretty fight, sir, 'specially the forcing o' the palisadoes—'twere just such another night as this——"
"Only we were younger then, Zeb, years younger."
"Why as to that, sir, I've been feeling younger than e'er I was, of late—and yonder cometh the moon at last! This way, sir!"