In Doublet and Hose Part 21

So dense was the shade that Francis was not aware that the sky had become overcast with clouds until a distant peal of thunder broke upon her ear.

"A storm is coming," she cried. "I must seek shelter; but where?"

It was a problem that would have puzzled a head older and wiser than that of Francis Stafford. She was in the midst of a dense forest. She looked about her in dismay.

"Beshrew me!" she uttered, "these woods are impenetrable enough to furnish hiding-place for Robin Hood and all his men. Surely there must be an inn or house somewhere near. Patience! I will find shelter. On, good horse!"

The mutterings of the thunder became louder and deeper as the storm approached. The clouds scudded across the heavens swiftly, borne on the wings of a heavy wind. Suddenly a blinding flash of lightning zigzagged across the sky followed by a deafening crash of thunder, and the storm broke in all its force. The rain came down in torrents. The trees bent and swayed in the wind, tossing their proud heads as if in defiance to the storm king. The horse snorted in terror as flash after flash of lightning blazed across the road. Francis was drenched to the skin, but she struggled on, soothing the frightened animal as best she could.

Presently she thought she saw an opening in the trees. Drawing closer she was overjoyed to find that there really was a path through the wood.

Turning into it she followed it for some distance, finally coming to an open glade where stood what looked to be an ancient inn.

One wing had fallen into decay. The rose covered trellis of the porch lay rotting on the ground. All about the building hung an air of dilapidation and decay that forbade the thought of cheer. One part of the tumbled down structure looked as though it might serve as a shelter, and the girl hastened to the door of this portion and knocked.

There was no response, and Francis rapped again; this time more loudly than before, resolving to force the door should there be no answer. She waited a few moments, and then there came a high shrill voice from behind the closed door.

"Who's there?"

"One who desires shelter from the storm. Open, i' G.o.d's name!"

"And who be ye that seek shelter of Dame Margery? Know you not that men call me the white witch?"

"I care not," exclaimed Francis impatiently. "Open, woman, else I will force the door."

There was a muttering of protest, then the bolts were drawn, and the door opened. A woman stood in the aperture. A woman, old and bent, and looking not unlike the witch she called herself. A hood of brown sat on her white hair; a brown lappet was thrown about her, and she supported herself by means of a staff. Her black eyes regarded the girl with keenness from under her s.h.a.ggy brows.

"Now thou art brave, forsooth, who dares take shelter here," she said.

"There are those, and they are many, who would brave the fiercest storm rather than risk Dame Margery's evil eye."

"But not I," said Francis boldly. Nevertheless she made the sign of the cross, for the age was a superst.i.tious one and the belief in witches and witchcraft well nigh universal. "Good dame, tell me, I pray, where I may put my horse. Give us both shelter, and thou shall have this angel for thy guerdon."

She held the gold piece out as she spoke. The woman's fingers closed over it eagerly.

"Back of the house are the stables," she said a trifle more civilly.

"There will ye find food for the beast as well as cover. But thou wilt have to be thine own groom, young sir. These old bones be racked with rheums."

"I thank you," answered Francis briefly. Following the direction indicated by the beldame she led her horse round the house where she found the stables in somewhat better condition than she had expected.

After looking after the welfare of the animal she muttered a short prayer, and entered the dwelling with a bold front.

The door gave entrance into a large, low ceiled room whose rafters were grimed with smoke and dirt. A low bed stood in one corner of the room; a small deal table and three chairs completed the simple furnis.h.i.+ngs, but the girl's eyes were caught by the strings of herbs that depended from the walls, and the cabalistic signs that were everywhere in evidence. A fire burned on the hearth and over it, depending from a crane, hung a large kettle in which something savory was brewing.

A black cat which had been stretched near the fire rose at her entrance, and spat as if he resented the intrusion as well as his mistress.

Francis glanced at the mysterious signs, the black cat, the old woman, and a half wish came into her mind that she had braved the fury of the storm rather than enter such an abode. As if in answer to her thought the dame spoke:

"Draw nigh the fire, boy, and dry thy wet garments. Marry! hearest thou the rain? Even the dwelling of a witch, I trow, is better than to be out in't. Hark!"

The storm had redoubled its fury. The wind shrieked and howled as though a thousand demons were loosed from durance and were exulting in their freedom. The rain came down in sheets, while peal on peal of thunder crashed and rolled. Francis shuddered and drew nearer the fire. The steam arose from her saturated garments, and rendered her uncomfortable. The old woman noticed her discomfort and said not unkindly:

"Boy, no garments have I of thy s.e.x, but if thou wilt play the woman for the nonce thou canst have of mine apparel until thine own be dried."

For the first time since she had left the court Francis laughed. She flushed rosy red under the old woman's glance, and then grew bewildered and confused at her continued scrutiny, and answered with an effort at self-command.

"I thank you, my good dame, but I will stay as I am an it please you."

"Content yourself,--master," answered the dame with the slightest hesitation before the word. "'Twas but to soften thy distress."

She spoke no more, but busied herself about the brew over the fire.

Presently she placed some of the stew before the girl, saying,

"Eat, sir. Thou wilt find it to thy liking, I trow."

"It is in sooth," replied Francis falling to heartily. Under the influence of warmth and comfort her fear of the woman had vanished.

"Think you, good mother, that the storm will soon pa.s.s?"

"Nay;" answered she her face softening at the appellation. "Not till midnight comes; for

"When storm comes at end of day The midnight hour takes the rain away.'"

The girl's face clouded.

"Then I must forth at midnight," she declared.

"Thy need must be urgent that impels thee onward through the darkness,"

observed the woman keenly. "Boy, what is thy business? Would have me read the stars for its issue?"

"Nay, mother," answered Francis in agitated tones. "Were it favorable all would be well, but if it were evil I would not know of it. But it will not be ill. It must not, shall not be!"

She arose and paced the floor, chafing that she must be inactive when time was so precious. The dame regarded her curiously. Presently she spoke.

"Mistress, I may not call thee because of thy garb. Master, I cannot because of thy s.e.x; but whatsoe'er thou art, tell old Margery why thou art so dressed, and why you wander forth alone?"

"Woman, are you in very truth a witch?" cried the girl in astonishment.

"So men call me," returned Margery dryly.

"But save for the few who were told, not one at the court penetrated my masquerade," said Francis. "Then how is it, that thou, at our first meeting, know that my dress covers a maiden?"

"Old Margery hath lived long, and her eyes are sharp," answered the dame.

"But tell me. What brings you hither, if you are of the court?"

Francis paused in front of the woman and looked long and earnestly into her eyes. Something she saw there made her say impulsively:

"Good mother, thou must be in truth the witch men call thee, because thine eyes impel me to tell thee all. Listen! and I will unfold the tale from the beginning." And she recounted the affair of Elizabeth's coming, the reason for donning the page's dress, her going to court, and now the cause of her desire to reach her father. The woman listened attentively.

"Child, thou hast done well. And thou sayst that none of the queen's men have pa.s.sed thee?"

"None, mother. I have outstripped them all," exulted Francis. "Let me but continue in the lead for a few hours longer so that my father may have opportunity to get to a place of safety, and I care not how soon they come."

At this moment there came the sound of hoa.r.s.e shouting of men, followed by the clatter of horses' hoofs, and then above the storm came a loud knocking at the door.