The Lion Triumphant (54 page)

“What a gloomy day,” said my mother, as we rode along side by side.

“Do you find it so?” I replied; and she laughed suddenly. She seemed very happy. I read her thoughts. I was eighteen years old, marriageable. Every mother wants to see her daughter married; she dreams of grandchildren. My mother wanted that for me and she had decided that Fennimore was a good choice. She had been impressed by his sincerity; perhaps too she thought that he did not live very far away and she would see me frequently if I married him. It was a sad point with her that she was so far from her own mother whom she adored.

Yes, I was in high spirits that morning. Adventure was in the air, discoveries, marriage, children, the right of every woman to love and reproduce. There might have been some warning in the mist, but I could not sense it. Nor did my mother, for she was as eager for what was awaiting us as I was.

The road took us through country lanes with high green banks and hedges in which a few wild flowers lived on as a reminder of the riot of colours they had offered at different times of the year—some campion, dead-nettle and shepherd’s purse and every now and then we would have a glimpse of the sea, greyish, silent on this still windless day. We met few people, only a party on horseback like ourselves who called a greeting, a pedlar whose pack we stopped to examine, a farmer at work on his land. We had made good progress on that first day and before darkness fell we reached an inn where we spent the night. The landlord had a good roasted ox and ale which we ate and drank in the parlour before retiring to our room. My mother and I slept in the big bed and Jennet on a pallet on the floor. The grooms lay in the stables and as soon as it was light we were off, our horses rested and ready for the day’s journey. There would be one more inn stop and then we should arrive at Trystan Priory.

In spite of the excitement which possessed me, I slept soundly and so did my mother and we were up early and ready to continue at dawn.

The second day was like the first. The country changed a little though; the coast was more rocky, the countryside stark; it lacked the lush greenery of our Devon scenery; and on that night we came to The Traveller’s Rest.

The host came to the door to welcome us; bowing low, recognizing us I suppose as what he would call “the quality”. Yes, he had a room for us and he would have a fire lighted in the fireplace and a warming-pan put in the bed. He rubbed his hands together. He had a sucking-pig on the spit; he had beef and mutton and great pies. In fact he had everything to tempt hungry travellers. If we would sit awhile in the inn parlour he would have our room made ready. It was the best in the house. He whispered conspiratorially that it was called the Oak Room on account of the very fine panelling on the walls and some of his guests had told him that it was fit for the Queen herself.

“So, my ladies, if our gracious Queen should ever pass this way we could give her comfort such as she’d rarely find outside her own palace and castles.”

It was a warm welcome. The landlord continued to rub his hands with glee at the prospect of such profits that would come his way. Two ladies and their maid and two grooms! I wondered how many passed this way and how often he could be sure of as many customers.

We sat in the inn parlour and drank wine and ate little cakes which were quite pleasant, for it would take some time before the meat was cooked. Meanwhile a fire was lighted in the room allotted to us and we mounted the stairs to it. It looked rather charming in the light of two candles, for it was now dark. The fire in the grate threw its pleasant flickering light about the room. I touched the oak panelling of which the landlord was so proud and I said: “It is a pleasant place. And the landlord, although a little too unctuous, seems determined to look after us.”

My mother said: “We will tell him we will stay here on our return, which will be in a week or so, for I doubt we should overstay our welcome at Trystan Priory.”

Jennet unpacked what we should need for the night and by that time a maid came to tell us that the food was ready.

“We will come down at once,” said my mother, “for I must confess I am ready for it.”

It was then that I was aware of the noise below, someone was shouting in a loud and imperious voice: “Don’t tell me that, man. Take me there. I tell you this, no matter who has the Oak Room they must vacate it. Do you think I’d take one of your poxy little rooms?”

I heard the landlord, all unctuous pleasure departed: “But my lord … if I had known … It was not more than an hour or so … A party of travellers …”

“It matters not,” came the shout. “They can take another room. By God’s life, host, have I not slept these many times in your Oak Room and what other room have you to suit me? Tell me that!”

“None worthy of your lordship, ’tis true, but …”

“Stand aside.”

I stood there, holding a candle in my hand. I heard the heavy tread on the stairs.

Then he came into sight and saw me standing on the threshold of the room. He stopped short, looking up at me. I was surprised to see that he was young, by which I meant he was reaching up to thirty. His eyes were dark, large and lustrous; his hair looked blackish in the candle light. What struck me most was the size of him. He must have been all of six feet six inches tall. I had rarely seen such a tall man. His shoulders were broad and his padded jerkin made of satin and velvet with its puffed slashed sleeves made him look even broader. His bombasted breeches were of fine material and his jornet, a loose travelling cloak, was thrown back over his shoulders. This arrogant man who, I gathered, was demanding the room already let to us was a dandy.

“By God, Madam,” he said, “so ’tis you who have taken my room.”

“Is it yours, sir?” I answered. “I had thought it was one the landlord had set aside for guests, and my mother and I have already taken it.”

“Is that so?” he said, and his smile was sardonic. He started to mount the stairs.

“I am a frequent patron of this inn,” he said. “There are times when I pass and wish to rest for a night. This room is always at my disposal.”

“Then,” I said, “this is an occasion when it is not.”

My mother had come forward. I realized—though no one else would—that she was a little nervous. But she was not the sort to give up her rights without a fight.

She said: “What is this trouble, sir?”

He bowed to her. “Whether it be trouble or not, Madam, depends on you. You are occupying my room. Vacate it and you may have a pleasant night though perhaps a less luxurious one.”

“We had already taken the room,” said my mother.

“Ah, but that was before I arrived. Nessie,” he shouted. Then: “God’s eyes, man, where’s your daughter?”

The innkeeper was at the bottom of the stairs. “I will call her, my lord, and send her to you.”

“Tell her quick. I like not to be kept waiting.”

His eyes were on me. “Do not think,” he said, “that it pleases me to turn a beautiful lady from her bed.”

“I am sure it does not,” I retorted, “and I am equally sure that our good host will find you a comfortable lodging somewhere in his inn.”

He had stepped into the room. My mother watched him coldly. Jennet was frankly staring, her mouth a little slack. I knew what she was thinking. This was the kind of man she adored. If he had looked her way she would have been ready to do anything he asked of her with the utmost willingness. But he seemed unaware of her. He touched the wall and murmured: “This panelling is beautiful, is it not? Worthy of a mansion. I always admired it. ’Tis a good bed too. You’ll not find a better in any inn in the country.”

“I am sure I shall agree with you when I have used it,” I said.

“Ah, but we shall have to come to an agreement earlier than that. I wish to sleep in this bed tonight.”

“As I shall be sleeping there that is out of the question.”

“It is not an impossibility,” he said insolently.

I flushed and my mother said: “I must ask you, sir, to leave us. If you continue to insult us my husband will hear of this.”

“Pray who is the gentleman? Our host has been most remiss in making introductions.”

“He is Captain Jake Pennlyon,” said my mother firmly, “and he is a man who will not allow his wife and daughter to be insulted.”

“His repute has reached my ears. Who could be ignorant of his existence? Ha, here is Nessie. It takes you a long time to come, my girl. Did you not hear my arrival?”

Nessie bobbed a curtsy. She was a plump, pretty girl with rosy cheeks and abundant fair curly hair; her gown was low cut and the thought occurred to me that she knew this man very well. He caught her by the ear and pinched it. She gave a little yell and put up her hands to his. He laughed and let his hand drop to her breast which he patted caressingly as he said: “Now, Nessie, clear the room. This baggage comes out and mine goes in.”

“I will not allow this,” cried my mother.

“My dear lady,” he said, “how will you prevent it?”

“I wish to see the landlord immediately.”

“Come,” I said to my mother, “we will go to him now. Come, Jennet,” I said.

She left our bags where they were and followed us.

The landlord was in the hall; he was visibly trembling.

“This is a fine way to treat your guests,” began my mother.

“My lady, it is no fault of mine. I did not know he would be here this night. It is only last week that he came. He does not usually come so often. I have a very nice room …”

“No,” said my mother, but she was very uneasy. Outside it was dark. If we left the inn where could we go? There would not be another for some miles. The horses were tired. We would have to stay; and yet she was in revolt against the arrogant churlish behaviour of this man.

“My lady,” said the innkeeper. “You do not know Squire Colum Casvellyn.”

“If that is the name of that oaf I do not wish to.”

“Ah, my lady, we cannot always help these things. I can prepare a good room for you. It is not our best room but it is a good room and there you can spend the night in peace.”

“You have forgotten that you gave us the Oak Room.”

“I do not forget, Madam, but Squire Casvellyn can make great trouble. He is a man who must be obeyed. I could not say what would happen to us all if I refused to allow him to have the Oak Room.”

“I will speak of this with my daughter,” said my mother.

He nodded. We went into the inn parlour which mercifully was deserted. Jennet followed us and sat some little distance away. My mother said impatiently: “Take that look off your face, Jennet. That braggart wouldn’t look your way. You’re an old woman now.”

Jennet simpered. I was always amazed by her imperturbability. My mother once told me that she had always been like that. No matter what had happened in the past; when she had been the victim of men’s lust, as she had frequently, she had accepted her fate without a qualm, although, as my mother said, she would never have been an unwilling victim in those circumstances.

“The wisest thing to do would be to take the smaller room,” said my mother. “I wish your father were here.”

“Then there would be a fight. I should not like that.”

“Your father would make short work of him.”

I was not so sure. I saw in this man something akin to my father and he was many years younger.

“But my father is not here. How I hate giving way to him!”

“I also. But what would happen if we refused to leave that room? He would be there too. He might throw us out. What sort of night should we have then? No, ’tis better to accept the other room and behave with dignity. But when your father hears of this he will not allow it to pass.”

I could see that she was right. We were not in a position to fight against him, and his remark that he might share the room with us had upset me.

“Let us then tell the landlord to give us his next best room. We deplore the ill manners of his guest but as he will do nothing about it we must needs accept this insult.”

My mother sent Jennet for the landlord. He came, his hands under his apron trembling, I’m sure. I felt sorry for the man.

“We have decided we can do nothing but accept your offer of another room.”

Relief flooded the poor man’s face. “You are wise, Madam,” he said. “I promise you that everything shall be done …”

“I can see,” said my mother, “that this is no fault of yours. Tell me who is this man who strikes such terror into you and your servants?”

“He is the lord of Castle Paling—a man greatly feared in these parts. He is the lord of the neighbourhood. It has always been so with the Casvellyns. They own much of the land hereabouts. He could turn us out of our homes if we displeased him. He would have no mercy. His father was lord of us all but he was but a shadow of his son.”

“You live in terror of him?”

“He does not come this way so often. That is why since he was here last week I did not think he would come again. He pays well for his lodging here. He is not one to stint. There is grandeur at Castle Paling I have heard. My daughter once went there.”

“Your daughter … Nessie,” I said sharply.

The landlord looked embarrassed and the thought came into my head that the landlord’s daughter would doubtless sleep in the bed which had been taken from us.

“Yes, he … noticed her. He is good to people who please him.”

I felt disgusted. “Let us be shown the humbler room,” I said, and to my mother: “It is unimportant. Tomorrow we shall be on our way.”

“I am grateful, ladies, for your good consideration. Believe me, I am deeply grieved that this should have happened.”

“Think no more of it,” my mother told him. “Let our bags be taken to another room.”

“It shall be done while you eat,” said the landlord, fast regaining his equilibrium. “I trust the flavour of the sucking-pig—which I know will be the tenderest you have ever partaken of—will make up for this unfortunate upset.”

Fresh rushes had been laid in the dining-room and the smell of the herbs was clean and fresh. I was hungry and the sucking-pig which was already on the table looked as succulent and appetising as could be wished. There was a great pie and several tarts besides roast beef and mutton, wild fowl and spiced tarts, marchpane and gingerbread. No wonder the host was proud of his table.