My lady of Cleeve

by Percy John Hartley

I sprang from my couch with nerves braced for the duties of the coming day. I was not without some misgivings that I might find my own horse to be missing. But upon opening the stable door, there was the sorrel standing in the stall, apparently unharmed. And much relieved in my own mind as regarded his safety, I led him into the yard, and mounting, rode swiftly to the village.

Here I found the sergeant and his men awaiting my arrival and eager to commence the search for the missing animals. But I was not minded to leave the inn wholly unguarded, and, moreover, the wounded man was still weak from the blow he had received and the subsequent loss of blood, and was ill fitted to take part in what might prove an arduous undertaking. I left the sergeant and three men, therefore, to keep him company, all fully armed and this time alert enough against surprise, and with the remaining eight troopers at my heels commenced the search. The track of the horses led from the stables to a little stream some hundred yards away, and there abruptly ceased. As this stream came from the torrs, I felt convinced that it was there we should look for them, probably hidden in some secluded hut, or in one of the many boulder-strewn hollows that lay amongst the hills. We turned our faces, therefore, in that direction, scattering on both sides of the stream and striving to pick up the lost trail.

But though we advanced some four miles thus, there was no sign of any tracks having left the water, and the farther we advanced, the wilder grew the scenery. Hitherto we had been ascending a series of gentle slopes, with scattered clumps of trees here and there, that grew into a dense wood on the summit of a hill immediately in front of us.

When we had descended into the valley beyond, we found ourselves completely shut in by the torrs, with nothing on either side of us but the desolate, treeless slopes with their monotonous covering of withered grass. And to add to our discomfort, the sun was gaining in power. Yet this, indeed, gave way presently to still wilder scenery than any we had yet met with; for what had before been mere hollows between the hills soon changed into deep glens, in any one of which a regiment might safely have been hidden away without discovery. Small wonder, then, that in diligently searching amongst these we soon became hopelessly lost; nor for all our endeavours could we again find the way by which we had come. Nay, more, we had so turned and doubled in the course of the last half hour that I was completely at a loss as to the direction in which Cleeve now lay. For all I knew every step that we advanced might be taking us farther and farther away from it. And seeing this, about noon I called a halt in a deep glen, where an overhanging bank afforded us some protection from the sun, though the stifling heat of the hollow was well-nigh unbearable. And here we dined upon the scanty fare with which each man had provided himself before leaving the village, though in this respect my sorrel came but poorly off, for of water there was none. As for me, small appetite had I for food, being, indeed, a prey to the keenest anxiety. A hundred times I blamed myself for proceeding so far and for thus abandoning the little party at the inn.

What might not have happened in our absence? Granted they were well armed and forewarned against surprise, nevertheless, small chance had four men against forty, and ’twas not so much with force I feared they had to deal as guile.

Yet the day was wearing on, and here were we powerless to render them any assistance. I sprang impatiently to my feet, and leaving the troopers to their meal, I climbed the hillside above; for it was not improbable that from the summit I might obtain sight of some landmark that might give me a clue as to our whereabouts. But again disappointment awaited me. There was nothing to be seen but a ring of encircling hills, devoid, so far as I could see, of human habitation. With a bitter curse at my own stupidity I descended the hill, and again we set out in the direction in which I imagined Cleeve lay.

But this, it seemed, was but to entangle us worse amongst the hills; and for hours we wandered in a network of narrow ravines, each of which exactly resembled its fellow, and seemed but to mock us by its similarity. Of our subsequent wanderings I prefer to say but little. It was not, however, until sunset that, footsore and weary, we arrived once more at the village.

No sooner did we come in sight of the inn than I was reassured as to the safety of the men I had left behind by the sight of the sergeant placidly smoking in the open doorway. In the street beyond a few rustics were standing at their doors, or chatted to one another across the street; and the whole scene was as peaceful an aspect as any village in England. Whilst the men were quenching their thirst with copious draughts of ale, I drew the sergeant aside and questioned him as to what had happened in our absence. It was in doing this that, glancing through the open window near which we were standing, I saw one of the troopers watering my horse in the yard. This done, he turned and led him towards the stable. But no sooner had he flung open the door than the empty bucket fell from his hand, and he uttered a shout that brought us running to his side. He was still standing, staring into the shed as if petrified.

“What is it? What do you see, man?” I cried as I approached.

“Look,” he answered, pointing, with a white face, within. “They are there!”