My lady of Cleeve

by Percy John Hartley

I struggled vainly to rise—a mountain seemed to press me down. I strove to cry out, but no sound came from my parched lips. Nearer and nearer, swifter and swifter, they swept down upon me, in one fierce tempest of maddened horses and shouting men, with the great guns swaying behind them. Now, so close were they, that I could see the wild, straining eyes of the horses and the blackened faces of the gunners, who lashed their teams to frenzy. Now with a trembling of the ground beneath me—a nightmare of blood-red beasts and giant riders—they were upon me, over me. With a despairing cry I flung out my arm and awoke to a full consciousness of my surroundings.

I drew a deep breath and lay for a time gazing up at the ceiling overhead, until the noises in my head gradually subsided, and I became conscious of a fierce throbbing in my left shoulder, that most effectually brought back the events of the previous day to my memory. Glancing downwards, I saw that my arm was supported in a sling upon my breast. At that I rose with an effort upon my right elbow and, despite the feeling of faintness that oppressed me, took a rapid survey of my surroundings. Clad only in my shirt and breeches, I lay upon a bed of rugs in a room that I had never previously seen. In what part of the manor it was situated I could not form a guess, but from its appearance I judged that it was used for little else than a lumber room. Beside my couch my eyes lighted upon a tray, whereon was set a flask of spirits, put ready there, I opined, ’gainst my awaking. I reached for the flask and drank deeply of its contents. It was cognac—in quality the best—and with the generous spirit I felt my strength return to me and the life blood course swifter through my veins. Presently I staggered to my feet and moved somewhat unsteadily in the direction of the window. It was guarded by three massive iron bars let into the solid masonry, and of such a thickness as to effectually preclude all possibility of escape in that direction. My prison was in the left wing of the house, for below me was the stable yard, with the stables themselves directly facing me. No one was about, so that taking this fact, together with the coolness of the morning air into consideration, I judged that the hour was yet early. Ah, but it was good to breathe the fresh sea breeze into one’s lungs, to watch the sunlight dancing in the courtyard, and the white, fleecy clouds chasing each other overhead.

I next turned my attention to the wound upon my shoulder, striving in so far as I was able to ascertain the exact extent of injury inflicted. To my surprise and gratification, upon slipping my arm from the sling which supported it, I found that I could move it with tolerable freedom, and with no very great addition to the pain that I already endured.

Presently I made the discovery that the sling itself belonged to me—was, in fact, no other than the very scarf which I had bound around my lady’s wrist. Up till that moment I had been so absorbed in examining my prison, that I had lost all recollection of the means which had deprived me for the time being of my liberty. But now at the sight of this scarf, bringing back in a flood of memory all my lady’s treachery and my own humiliation, I fell into so fierce a rage as surely never woman roused in man before.

In a sudden access of unreasoning passion I tore the silken sling from around my neck and ground it savagely beneath my heel. Oh, for one hour of liberty! One hour of revenge upon this woman who had beguiled me to my undoing! One hour to break that haughty spirit—to bend, to crush, to bring her grovelling upon her knees for pity! Pity? If that the time should ever come that I could repay her for the present shame I felt by striking her through those she loved, then let her not look for any pity at the hands of the man whom she had wronged, for by all I held most sacred I would not spare her!

After awhile, oppressed by a feeling that I could not breathe, I moved again to the window, that the cool sea breeze might play upon my burning forehead.

“Good-day to you, general,” said a mocking voice. “Will your lordship be pleased to require your horse this morning?” I glanced swiftly down.

Below me in the courtyard was the youth Martin, and behind him the grinning faces of the other two stable hands. All three carried old-fashioned muskets in their hands, with more or less rusty swords strapped to their waists. Evidently my prison was well guarded.

I stepped hastily back from the casement, yet not so quickly but that I caught the jeering laugh with which the words were accompanied. It was this laugh more than the insolence of the words themselves that stung me once more to sudden rage; and I fell to pacing the floor in a frenzy of impotent passion.

Doubtless my lady had taken a pleasure in relating to all within the house the manner in which the poor dupe had fallen into her snare—aye, and had laughed—laughed with them over my discomfiture! The latter thought was maddening.