AT midnight
all was over, and we sat in
the presence of four corpses.
We covered them with such
rags as we could find, and started away, fastening the
door behind us. Their home must be these people's
grave, for they could not have Christian burial, or be
admitted to consecrated ground. They were as dogs,
wild beasts, lepers, and no soul that valued its hope of
eternal life would throw it away by meddling in any
sort with these rebuked and smitten outcasts.
We had not moved four steps
when I caught a sound as of footsteps
upon gravel. My heart flew to
my throat. We must not be seen
coming from that house. I plucked
at the king's robe and we drew
back and took shelter behind
the corner of the cabin.
"Now we are safe," I said, "but
it was a close call -- so to
speak. If the night had been
lighter he might have seen us,
no doubt, he seemed to be so
near."
"Mayhap it
is but a beast and not a man
at all."
"True. But
man or beast, it will be wise
to stay here a minute
and let it get by and out of
the way."
"Hark! It cometh
hither."
True again. The step was coming
toward us -- straight toward
the hut. It must be a beast,
then, and we might as well have
saved our trepidation. I was
going to step out, but the king
laid his hand upon my arm. There
was a moment of silence, then
we heard a soft knock on the
cabin door. It made me shiver.
Presently the knock was repeated,
and then we heard these words
in a guarded voice:
"Mother! Father!
Open -- we have got free, and
we bring news
to pale your cheeks but glad
your hearts; and we may not tarry,
but must fly! And -- but they
answer not. Mother! father! --"
I drew the king toward the
other end of the hut and whispered:
"Come -- now
we can get to the road."
The king hesitated, was going
to demur; but just then we heard
the door give way, and knew that
those desolate men were in the
presence of their dead.
"Come, my liege!
in a moment they will strike
a light, and
then will follow that which it
would break your heart to hear."
He did not hesitate this time.
The moment we were in the road
I ran; and after a moment he
threw dignity aside and followed.
I did not want to think of what
was happening in the hut -- I
couldn't bear it; I wanted to
drive it out of my mind; so I
struck into the first subject
that lay under that one in my
mind:
"I have had
the disease those people died
of, and so have nothing
to fear; but if you have not
had it also --"
He broke in upon me to say
he was in trouble, and it was
his conscience that was troubling
him:
"These young
men have got free, they say
-- but HOW? It is not
likely that their lord hath set
them free."
"Oh, no, I
make no doubt they escaped."
"That is my
trouble; I have a fear that
this is so, and your
suspicion doth confirm it, you
having the same fear.
"I should not
call it by that name though.
I do suspect that
they escaped, but if they did,
I am not sorry, certainly."
"I am not sorry,
I THINK -- but --"
"What is it?
What is there for one to be
troubled about?"
"IF they did
escape, then are we bound in
duty to lay hands
upon them and deliver them again
to their lord; for it is not
seemly that one of his quality
should suffer a so insolent and
high-handed outrage from persons
of their base degree."
There it was again. He could
see only one side of it. He was
born so, educated so, his veins
were full of ancestral blood
that was rotten with this sort
of unconscious brutality, brought
down by inheritance from a long
procession of hearts that had
each done its share toward poisoning
the stream. To imprison these
men without proof, and starve
their kindred, was no harm, for
they were merely peasants and
subject to the will and pleasure
of their lord, no matter what
fearful form it might take; but
for these men to break out of
unjust captivity was insult and
outrage, and a thing not to be
countenanced by any conscientious
person who knew his duty to his
sacred caste.
I worked more than half an
hour before I got him to change
the subject -- and even then
an outside matter did it for
me. This was a something which
caught our eyes as we struck
the summit of a small hill --
a red glow, a good way off.
"That's a fire," said
I.
Fires interested me considerably,
because I was getting a good
deal of an insurance business
started, and was also training
some horses and building some
steam fire-engines, with an eye
to a paid fire department by
and by. The priests opposed both
my fire and life insurance, on
the ground that it was an insolent
attempt to hinder the decrees
of God; and if you pointed out
that they did not hinder the
decrees in the least, but only
modified the hard consequences
of them if you took out policies
and had luck, they retorted that
that was gambling against the
decrees of God, and was just
as bad. So they managed to damage
those industries more or less,
but I got even on my Accident
business. As a rule, a knight
is a lummox, and some times even
a labrick, and hence open to
pretty poor arguments when they
come glibly from a superstition-monger,
but even HE could see the practical
side of a thing once in a while;
and so of late you couldn't clean
up a tournament and pile the
result without finding one of
my accident-tickets in every
helmet.
We stood there awhile, in the
thick darkness and stillness,
looking toward the red blur in
the distance, and trying to make
out the meaning of a far-away
murmur that rose and fell fitfully
on the night. Sometimes it swelled
up and for a moment seemed less
remote; but when we were hopefully
expecting it to betray its cause
and nature, it dulled and sank
again, carrying its mystery with
it. We started down the hill
in its direction, and the winding
road plunged us at once into
almost solid darkness -- darkness
that was packed and crammed in
between two tall forest walls.
We groped along down for half
a mile, perhaps, that murmur
growing more and more distinct
all the time. the coming storm
threatening more and more, with
now and then a little shiver
of wind, a faint show of lightning,
and dull grumblings of distant
thunder. I was in the lead. I
ran against something -- a soft
heavy something which gave, slightly,
to the impulse of my weight;
at the same moment the lightning
glared out, and within a foot
of my face was the writhing face
of a man who was hanging from
the limb of a tree! That is,
it seemed to be writhing, but
it was not. It was a grewsome
sight. Straightway there was
an earsplitting explosion of
thunder, and the bottom of heaven
fell out; the rain poured down
in a deluge. No matter, we must
try to cut this man down, on
the chance that there might be
life in him yet, mustn't we?
The lightning came quick and
sharp now, and the place was
alternately noonday and midnight.
One moment the man would be hanging
before me in an intense light,
and the next he was blotted out
again in the darkness. I told
the king we must cut him down.
The king at once objected.
"If he hanged
himself, he was willing to
lose him property
to his lord; so let him be. If
others hanged him, belike they
had the right -- let him hang."
"But --"
"But me no
buts, but even leave him as
he is. And for yet another
reason. When the lightning cometh
again -- there, look abroad."
Two others hanging, within
fifty yards of us!
"It is not
weather meet for doing useless
courtesies unto
dead folk. They are past thanking
you. Come -- it is unprofitable
to tarry here."
There was reason in what he
said, so we moved on. Within
the next mile we counted six
more hanging forms by the blaze
of the lightning, and altogether
it was a grisly excursion. That
murmur was a murmur no longer,
it was a roar; a roar of men's
voices. A man came flying by
now, dimly through the darkness,
and other men chasing him. They
disappeared. Presently another
case of the kind occurred, and
then another and another. Then
a sudden turn of the road brought
us in sight of that fire -- it
was a large manorhouse, and little
or nothing was left of it --
and everywhere men were flying
and other men raging after them
in pursuit.
I warned the king that this
was not a safe place for strangers.
We would better get away from
the light, until matters should
improve. We stepped back a little,
and hid in the edge of the wood.
From this hiding-place we saw
both men and women hunted by
the mob. The fearful work went
on until nearly dawn. Then, the
fire being out and the storm
spent, the voices and flying
footsteps presently ceased, and
darkness and stillness reigned
again.
We ventured out, and hurried
cautiously away; and although
we were worn out and sleepy,
we kept on until we had put this
place some miles behind us. Then
we asked hospitality at the hut
of a charcoal burner, and got
what was to be had. A woman was
up and about, but the man was
still asleep, on a straw shake-down,
on the clay floor. The woman
seemed uneasy until I explained
that we were travelers and had
lost our way and been wandering
in the woods all night. She became
talkative, then, and asked if
we had heard of the terrible
goings-on at the manor-house
of Abblasoure. Yes, we had heard
of them, but what we wanted now
was rest and sleep. The king
broke in:
"Sell us the
house and take yourselves away,
for we be perilous
company, being late come from
people that died of the Spotted
Death."
It was good of him, but unnecessary.
One of the commonest decorations
of the nation was the waffleiron
face. I had early noticed that
the woman and her husband were
both so decorated. She made us
entirely welcome, and had no
fears; and plainly she was immensely
impressed by the king's proposition;
for, of course, it was a good
deal of an event in her life
to run across a person of the
king's humble appearance who
was ready to buy a man's house
for the sake of a night's lodging.
It gave her a large respect for
us, and she strained the lean
possibilities of her hovel to
the utmost to make us comfortable.
We slept till
far into the afternoon, and
then got up hungry
enough to make cotter fare quite
palatable to the king, the more
particularly as it was scant
in quantity. And also in variety;
it consisted solely of onions,
salt, and the national black
bread�made out of horsefeed.
The woman told us about the affair
of the evening before. At ten
or eleven at night, when everybody
was in bed, the manor-house burst
into flames. The country-side
swarmed to the rescue, and the
family were saved, with one exception,
the master. He did not appear.
Everybody was frantic over this
loss, and two brave yeomen sacrificed
their lives in ransacking the
burning house seeking that valuable
personage. But after a while
he was found -- what was left
of him -- which was his corpse.
It was in a copse three hundred
yards away, bound, gagged, stabbed
in a dozen places.
Who had done this? Suspicion
fell upon a humble family in
the neighborhood who had been
lately treated with peculiar
harshness by the baron; and from
these people the suspicion easily
extended itself to their relatives
and familiars. A suspicion was
enough; my lord's liveried retainers
proclaimed an instant crusade
against these people, and were
promptly joined by the community
in general. The woman's husband
had been active with the mob,
and had not returned home until
nearly dawn. He was gone now
to find out what the general
result had been. While we were
still talking he came back from
his quest. His report was revolting
enough. Eighteen persons hanged
or butchered, and two yeomen
and thirteen prisoners lost in
the fire.
"And how many
prisoners were there altogether
in the vaults?"
"Thirteen."
"Then every
one of them was lost?"
"Yes, all."
"But the people
arrived in time to save the
family; how
is it they could save none of
the prisoners?"
The man looked puzzled, and
said:
"Would one
unlock the vaults at such a
time? Marry, some would
have escaped."
"Then you mean
that nobody DID unlock them?"
"None went
near them, either to lock or
unlock. It standeth
to reason that the bolts were
fast; wherefore it was only needful
to establish a watch, so that
if any broke the bonds he might
not escape, but be taken. None
were taken."
"Natheless, three did escape," said
the king, "and ye will do well
to publish it and set justice
upon their track, for these murthered
the baron and fired the house."
I was just expecting he would
come out with that. For a moment
the man and his wife showed an
eager interest in this news and
an impatience to go out and spread
it; then a sudden something else
betrayed itself in their faces,
and they began to ask questions.
I answered the questions myself,
and narrowly watched the effects
produced. I was soon satisfied
that the knowledge of who these
three prisoners were had somehow
changed the atmosphere; that
our hosts' continued eagerness
to go and spread the news was
now only pretended and not real.
The king did not notice the change,
and I was glad of that. I worked
the conversation around toward
other details of the night's
proceedings, and noted that these
people were relieved to have
it take that direction.
The painful thing observable
about all this business was the
alacrity with which this oppressed
community had turned their cruel
hands against their own class
in the interest of the common
oppressor. This man and woman
seemed to feel that in a quarrel
between a person of their own
class and his lord, it was the
natural and proper and rightful
thing for that poor devil's whole
caste to side with the master
and fight his battle for him,
without ever stopping to inquire
into the rights or wrongs of
the matter. This man had been
out helping to hang his neighbors,
and had done his work with zeal,
and yet was aware that there
was nothing against them but
a mere suspicion, with nothing
back of it describable as evidence,
still neither he nor his wife
seemed to see anything horrible
about it.
This was depressing
-- to a man with the dream
of a republic
in his head. It reminded me of
a time thirteen centuries away,
when the "poor whites" of our
South who were always despised
and frequently insulted by the
slave-lords around them, and
who owed their base condition
simply to the presence of slavery
in their midst, were yet pusillanimously
ready to side with the slave-lords
in all political moves for the
upholding and perpetuating of
slavery, and did also finally
shoulder their muskets and pour
out their lives in an effort
to prevent the destruction of
that very institution which degraded
them. And there was only one
redeeming feature connected with
that pitiful piece of history;
and that was, that secretly the "poor
white" did detest the slave-lord,
and did feel his own shame. That
feeling was not brought to the
surface, but the fact that it
was there and could have been
brought out, under favoring circumstances,
was something -- in fact, it
was enough; for it showed that
a man is at bottom a man, after
all, even if it doesn't show
on the outside.
Well, as it
turned out, this charcoal burner
was just the
twin of the Southern "poor white" of
the far future. The king presently
showed impatience, and said:
"An ye prattle
here all the day, justice will
miscarry. Think
ye the criminals will abide in
their father's house? They are
fleeing, they are not waiting.
You should look to it that a
party of horse be set upon their
track."
The woman paled slightly, but
quite perceptibly, and the man
looked flustered and irresolute.
I said:
"Come, friend,
I will walk a little way with
you, and explain
which direction I think they
would try to take. If they were
merely resisters of the gabelle
or some kindred absurdity I would
try to protect them from capture;
but when men murder a person
of high degree and likewise burn
his house, that is another matter."
The last remark was for the
king -- to quiet him. On the
road the man pulled his resolution
together, and began the march
with a steady gait, but there
was no eagerness in it. By and
by I said:
"What relation
were these men to you -- cousins?"
He turned as white as his layer
of charcoal would let him, and
stopped, trembling.
"Ah, my God,
how know ye that?"
"I didn't know
it; it was a chance guess."
"Poor lads,
they are lost. And good lads
they were, too."
"Were you actually
going yonder to tell on them?"
He didn't quite know how to
take that; but he said, hesitatingly:
"Ye-s."
"Then I think
you are a damned scoundrel!"
It made him as glad as if I
had called him an angel.
"Say the good
words again, brother! for surely
ye mean that
ye would not betray me an I failed
of my duty."
"Duty? There
is no duty in the matter, except
the duty to
keep still and let those men
get away. They've done a righteous
deed."
He looked pleased; pleased,
and touched with apprehension
at the same time. He looked up
and down the road to see that
no one was coming, and then said
in a cautious voice:
"From what
land come you, brother, that
you speak such perilous
words, and seem not to be afraid?"
"They are not
perilous words when spoken
to one of my own
caste, I take it. You would not
tell anybody I said them?"
"I? I would
be drawn asunder by wild horses
first."
"Well, then,
let me say my say. I have no
fears of your
repeating it. I think devil's
work has been done last night
upon those innocent poor people.
That old baron got only what
he deserved. If I had my way.
all his kind should have the
same luck."
Fear and depression vanished
from the man's manner, and gratefulness
and a brave animation took their
place:
"Even though
you be a spy, and your words
a trap for my
undoing, yet are they such refreshment
that to hear them again and others
like to them, I would go to the
gallows happy, as having had
one good feast at least in a
starved life. And I will say
my say now, and ye may report
it if ye be so minded. I helped
to hang my neighbors for that
it were peril to my own life
to show lack of zeal in the master's
cause; the others helped for
none other reason. All rejoice
today that he is dead, but all
do go about seemingly sorrowing,
and shedding the hypocrite's
tear, for in that lies safety.
I have said the words, I have
said the words! the only ones
that have ever tasted good in
my mouth, and the reward of that
taste is sufficient. Lead on,
an ye will, be it even to the
scaffold, for I am ready."
There it was, you see. A man
is a man, at bottom. Whole ages
of abuse and oppression cannot
crush the manhood clear out of
him. Whoever thinks it a mistake
is himself mistaken. Yes, there
is plenty good enough material
for a republic in the most degraded
people that ever existed -- even
the Russians; plenty of manhood
in them -- even in the Germans
-- if one could but force it
out of its timid and suspicious
privacy, to overthrow and trample
in the mud any throne that ever
was set up and any nobility that
ever supported it. We should
see certain things yet, let us
hope and believe. First, a modified
monarchy, till Arthur's days
were done, then the destruction
of the throne, nobility abolished,
every member of it bound out
to some useful trade, universal
suffrage instituted, and the
whole government placed in the
hands of the men and women of
the nation there to remain. Yes,
there was no occasion to give
up my dream yet a while.
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