Most people were now abed, but there was a chink of light showing through the shutters opposite. Below all was silent and black. I set the candle down so that the light was entirely shaded from the window; then climbed out, stepped on to the wall, and redistributed my weight so that instead of leaning back against the wall of the tavern I was leaning forward against the wall of the Kendalls’ house; then gently tapped.
The light went out. Now except for the reflected light from the candle in my room it was pitch dark.
The shutters parted. I could see an arm. I put one foot up and swung myself in. In a moment not one arm but two were round me. I put my hands about Sibylla. She was wearing only a night smock. After a little pleasant groping in the dark I found her face and kissed her.
She began to scream; but my fingers on her mouth and her quick mind stopped her.
“Do not be alarmed. I had no time to grow a beard.”
“Maugan! … Tis you! Where is Belemus?”
“Abed with a knife wound in his ribs, got by being set on in the woods. Shall we be heard?”
She drew herself away. “Nay … Nay, not if we whisper. Love-a-duck, you give me a scare! Is he serious sick?”
“Not serious, but he’ll be laid away for some days. It was some of your tribe who set on him?”
‘How should I know? Theyd’ know naught of this “
“It cannot be unknown that Belemus still comes to the Tavern, even if Cox keeps his mouth tight ova the hiring of the chamber.”
“And and why’ve you come?”
“To bring word from Belemus. Have you a light? It is pitch in here.”
She moved, and a cupboard door opened to show that she had not put out the rushlight but had only hidden it. She looked nice in her thin smock with her long black hair over her shoulders.
“Give me the message.” Conscious of my look, she picked up a shawl and wrapped it about her.
“You have the message: that he’s wounded and cannot come. He sends his love.”
“And also his friend. Did he tell you to climb in here and make yourself free?”
“How else could I give the message?”
“By writing it and throwing it up.”
“Can you read?”
She hesitated. “Well, I would ha’ guessed what twas! You’d no right to give me such a fright. I’ll tell Belemus of ee.”
“If you tell him so much he’ll think the more. He says you’re a passionate girl.”
“How dare he speak of it! “
“We are close friends. We share many things.”
“Ah, but there’s some things you cannot share, and I’m one of ‘em, Maugan Killigrew.”
“Well, a kiss more or less is no killing matter.”
She eyed me up and down, but I think the rushlight was too frail to show up my uncertainty. A draught from the window made the flame lurch and I pulled the shutter to with my hand.
“Well, saucy,” she said. “Grow a beard an’ I’ll think about it. Why, you’re half a boy yet!”
I knew then. “Oh,” I said, “that’s dangerous talk.”
“I don’t see.”
“It would be easy to prove different. And you could scarcely scream.”
She backed away. “If I screamed I’d be for trouble, but not like you. Love-a-duck, they’d kill you! Nay, quiet: they’ll hear you movie’; that board d’ creak!”
I had followed her. “I’ll confess to you it was no hardship to come.”
We talked for some minutes in whispers. I persuading, she refusing, yet each refusal on slightly weaker ground than the last. Presently by little degrees l was able to put my hands on hers and then to kiss her, she still protesting. However, I remained so, brushing her face with my lips, and thus got my arms about her. For a first time it all, I think, had a fair appearance of expertness.
“Ah,” she whispered, “what a scoundrel y’are. Have you no loyalty to Belemus, oh?” But she did not now move much in my grasp.
We sank back on the bed. It was of stout planking and did not creak. My hands began to caress her through her night smock. “Nay,” she whispered, “wait. Untie me this knot.”
I did as she said, and she began to kiss me in return. Then I felt her body stiffen in my arms.
“What is it?”
“Listen …”
“Oh, it’s the wind “
“Nay! Listen …”
The shutter of the window was not properly caught. I heard someone cough.
She got up from the bed and reached for the rushlight. Then we were in the dark.
“it’s someone outside,” T whispered, “some passing fisherman. It is of no import “
“Oh, yes it is. I think at least, I fear … Wait.”
She slipped away from beside me, and I heard a board creak as she stepped on it. Then her shadow showed by the slit in the shutter. She was there some time.
Her breathing was very quick when she came back. “There’s two of ‘eml Tis Lawson, the sexton, and my Uncle Reynoldl They’ll be armed!”
“And what makes you think they’re concerned for us?”
“Because I know now! Father yesterday dropped hints that I didn’t follow ! Maugan, they’ll beat me half to death and they’ll kill you! I know it! I know it! “
“Ssh, ssh, quietly does it. Let’s think. We’re not found yet.” But for all my show I was beginning to sweat. I had left my sword in the tavern. In the pockets of my slops there was a folding knife: that was all.
From this window the shaded candle in my own chamber opposite was the only light. The shutter swung loose, no doubt telling its tale. Almost directly below, two men were standing. I went back to the bed.
“They’ll get tired waiting there until the dawn comes.”
“Nay, Maugan, nay.” She put her hand on my knee. “They’ll wait and wait. And if the light breaks it will go the worse for you. But I been thinking.”
“Tell me.”
“I been thinking … Outside this door tis but ten steps down and then a front door bolted only at the top, the bottom bolt be broke … They’ll think to surprise you as you come out of the window if they know you be in but they’ll not think you’ve the sauce to come out of the door. Tis like to be unguarded.”
I hesitated, frustrated, wildly angry, but the anger was a defence against fear. So long as I could be angry I could see myself as a disappointed seducer, still as the hot spark who had begun the evening, not as a boy surrounded by dangerous men and in hazard of his life.
She said: “Shall I open the door and see if the way be clear? “
“No, wait a while.”
But after waiting I agreed, seeing no better way. She described the small house, assured me there were no turnings: it was straight down and out.
So she went to the door. I unfolded my knife and followed. One moment there was her soft warmth beside me. The next I was in the passage outside listening in the silence.
Someone was snoring. It was the comforting sound of a house harmless and asleep. But there was another sound, nearer, less harmless, though at first I could not name it. Then I knew it for someone’s breathing. And whoever was so breathing was awake. And near me.
Whoever was so breathing must know that I had come out of Sibylla’s room and must be waiting for me to make the next move before pouncing.
I did not move but stared in a sickly fashion into the shadows. Some faint reflection of light there was, and I made out what looked to be the head of the stairs. I suddenly went down on hands and knees and crawled towards it.
At once there was a thunderous clatter over my head, as if someone had swung a club and hit only wall; then a figure fellacross mine. A groping hand caught my foot and when I kicked free the body twisted itself and fingers tore at my face. I stabbed with the knife. There was a grunt: I kicked clear and half ran, half fell down the stairs.