Part 18
“Next door, my lad. ‘Little Spain’ is the place for you, I gather.”
Martin knew nothing of “Little Spain,” and his soul took no offense.
“This is the ‘Crossed Keys’?”
“It has been called that these fifty years.”
“Is there a Peter Swartz in the house?”
The old man blinked his bright eyes, glanced right and left, and poked his nose into Martin’s face.
“Of the name of Valliant?”
“I am Valliant.”
“Tsst! Not so loud! I am at your service. Come this way, Master Valliant, and you, madam. Up the stairway; yes—yes—the gentleman is here; to the right, if you please, and down that passage. Let me pass, sir; I know the door.”
The room into which he showed them was a private chamber, hung with green arras and lit by a couple of candles set in tall pewter sticks on the oak table. A man sat at supper, with a meat pasty, a jug of wine, bread, cheese, and fresh fruit heaped up in a bowl before him. He was making himself a salad of herbs when the door opened and the old man poked his head into the room.
“Master Valliant, sir!”
Swartz threw the wooden spoon and fork on the table and stood up.
“Ye gods, this is magnificent!”
The old man closed the door on Mellis and Martin Valliant, and they stood before Peter Swartz like a couple of shy children. Then Martin’s arm crept over Mellis’s shoulders. She was red as a rose, but her eyes looked proudly at Peter Swartz.
That most magnanimous soldier of fortune scanned the faces of the pair before him, smiled, gave a wag of the head, and filled a glass with wine. He bowed to Mellis, raised the glass, and drank to her.
“Madam, I pledge you my homage. I am, and shall always be, your devoted servant. As for this fellow——”
He stepped up to Martin, smiling, and gave him a blow on the chest.
“Here is a man who has learned the greater wisdom. Good comrade, shake hands with me; the whole world is ours.”
Swartz went to the door, and shouted for the old gentleman in the black gown.
“Mine host, mine ancient and most sweet angel, more wine here, and platters, and more light.”
The wine came, also two more candles, and a rush-seated chair for Mellis. Swartz was in a joyous mood, and the shy yet exultant faces of these two young people filled him with an amused delight.
“Come—sit you down. The place of honor for Madam Mellis. Russet and green, two good colors; friend Martin there has been fighting, a sword-thrust through the shoulder—eh? Take off your cap, man; there are no spies here. And now for the news; I’ll tell mine afterwards.”
It was Mellis who told the tale of their adventures as far as the slaying of Fulk de Lisle, Martin watching her with a rapt look, and forgetting that there was food on his plate. She had nothing to say of the journey to Gawdy Town, but Swartz had but to look at their faces to know that Martin had played the man.
“So the old Fox of Troy was too cunning for your friends. Well, well—what is it to be—France and the open road, service with some fine Frenchman or a rich Italian, and our friend Martin here becoming a great captain with a helmet full of gold pieces? This wet island has wearied me. I can show you sunny lands and a world of adventure.”
Martin’s eyes watched Mellis’s face.
“I am but a beggar,” he said simply.
She looked at him dearly, and then at Swartz.
“We have twenty gold pieces, Martin and I. I carried them about with me, and hid them while we were at Woodmere. They are here—in a leather purse.”
“Shrewd wench—and great lady! Martin, my man, you may do the fighting, but you should leave all else to your wife. She will be wiser than any Lombard. Well, old Swartz can put his hand on fifty gold pieces, and I brought a little plunder away with me that night I left the island. These English drink too much, and some one must have missed a suit of harness and a couple of horses. Old Master Hilary here has bought the horses, and Martin can have the harness. Why, we are ripe and ready for sword-hire, and there is a ship sailing to-morrow for France.”
He leaned over and filled the drinking cups.
“Here’s to our good fortune, and the Knave of Hearts. Give me the gay, vagabond, generous, fighting life. Here’s to you, madam, and here’s to Martin Valliant, and here’s to old Peter Swartz! Martin, my lad, I’ll make you the finest sworder and swashbuckler this side of Rome.”
He grew quiet when he had had his jest with them, and it was Mellis who spoke for Martin and herself.
“The life will be rough, but I do not fear it. My man will guard me, and I shall be his mate. What are riches, and acres—and a lordly house? The sun and the green earth are for all, and youth goes where it pleases. Let the old folk count their cattle, and warm their hands at the fire.”
She looked at Martin, and he nodded.
“I will do good deeds—with the sword,” he said; “let us go out into the world and see the great cities. A man was given eyes to see with.”
Swartz raised his cup.
“And a heart—to love with! Oh, brave youth, never to grow old in the same bed, and to cross the same dull doorstep day by day! Here’s to the wander life—here’s to adventure! Assuredly I must get me a wife, and there shall be four of us. Peter Swartz is young again; God be praised!”
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Transcriber’s Notes:
Obvious punctuation and typesetting errors have been corrected without note. Where multiple spellings occur, majority use has been employed.
[End of _Martin Valliant_ by Warwick Deeping]