Chapter XX: Sir Blaise Pays His Penalty

When Brilliana quitted them the two men had regarded each other steadily for a few seconds in silence. Then Sir Blaise spoke.

"You made merry with me just now in ease and safety, a lady being by."

Evander shrugged his shoulders.

"Had no lady been by I should have been more merry and less tender."

Sir Blaise scowled.

"I am ill to provoke, my master. Those quarrels end sadly that are quarrels picked with me."

Again Evander shrugged his shoulders.

"I pick no quarrel, sir. You asked me very straightly what I knew of Sir Blaise Mickleton, and very straightly I tended you my knowledge. It is not my fault, but rather your misfortune, that you happen to be Sir Blaise Mickleton."

Sir Blaise dropped his hand to his sword-hilt.

"You Puritan jack," he shouted, "will you try sharper conclusions?"

In a moment and involuntarily Evander's hand sought his own weapon. It was in that moment that Halfman burst into the pleasaunce.

"Why, what's the matter here?" he cited, wielding his staff as if it had been the scimitar of the Moor. "Hold, for your lives! For Christian shame put by this barbarous brawl."

The disputants greeted their interrupter differently. Evander paid Halfman's memory the tribute of an appreciative smile. Sir Blaise turned to him as to a sympathizer and backer.

"This Puritan dog has insulted me," he cried.

Halfman nodded sagaciously. "And you would let a little of his malapert blood for him. But it may not be."

He addressed Evander. "You are a prisoner on parole, wearing your sword by a lady's favor, and may not use it here."

"You are in the right," Evander answered, "and I ask your lady's pardon if for a moment I forgot where I am and why."

"Yah, yah, fox," grinned Sir Blaise, who believed that his enemy was glad to be out of the quarrel. But Halfman, who knew better, smiled.

"There are other ways," he suggested, pleasantly, "by which two gentlemen may void their spleen without drawing their toasting-irons. Why should we not mimic sword-play with a pair of honest cudgels?"

Blaise slapped his thigh approvingly, for he was good at rustic sports. Halfman turned his dark face upon Evander.

"Has my suggestion the fortune to meet with your approval?" he asked. Evander nodded. "Then let Sir Blaise handle his own staff, and you, camerado, take mine--'tis of a length with your enemy's--and set to."

Halfman watched Evander narrowly while he spoke. Skill with the rapier did not necessarily imply skill with the cudgel. He bore Evander no grudge for overcoming him at fence, but if Sir Blaise proved the better man with the batoon, there would be a kind of compensation in it. He had heard that Sir Blaise was apt at country-sports and now Sir Blaise vaunted his knowledge.

"Let me tell you to your trembling," he crowed, "that I am the best cudgel-player in these parts. I will drub you, I will trounce you, I will tan your hide."

"That will be as it shall be," Evander answered. He had taken the staff that Halfman had proffered, and after weighing it in his hand and carefully examining its texture had set it up against the seat, while he prepared to strip off his jerkin. Halfman assisted Sir Blaise to extricate himself from his beribboned doublet, and the two men faced each other in their shirts, Evander's linen fine and plain, like all about him, Sir Blaise's linen fine and ostentatious, like all about him, and reeking of ambergris. Evander was not a small man, but his body seemed very slender by contrast with the well-nourished bulk of the country-gentleman, and many a one would have held that the match was strangely unequal. But Halfman did not think so, seeing how deliberately Evander entered upon the enterprise, and even Sir Blaise's self-conceit was troubled by his antagonist's alacrity in accepting the challenge.

"If you tender me your grief for your insolence," he suggested, with truculent condescension, "you will save yourself a basting."

Evander laughed outright, the blithest laugh that Halfman had yet heard pass from his Puritan lips.

"I must deny you, pomposity," he answered, gayly. "It were pity to postpone a pleasure."

"You are in the right," commented Halfman. "Come, sirs, enough words; let us to deeds. Begin."

The sticks swung in the air and met with a crack, each man's hand pressing his cudgel hard against the other's, each man's foot firm and springing, each man's eyes seeking to read in the other's the secret of his assault. Suddenly Blaise made a feint at Evander's leg and then swashed for his head.

"Have a care for your crown," he shouted, confident in his stroke; but Evander met the blow instantly and wood only rattled on wood.

"I have cared for it," he said, quietly, as he came on guard again, making no attempt to return Sir Blaise's attack. Sir Blaise reversed his tactics, feinted at Evander's head, and swept a furious semicircle at Evander's legs.

"Save your shins, then," he cried, and grunted with rage as he again encountered Evander's swiftly revolving staff and heard Evander answer, mockingly:

"I have saved them."

Inarticulate fury goaded him. "I will play with you no longer!" he growled, and made a rush for Evander, raining blow upon blow as quickly as he could deliver them, and hoping to break down Evander's guard. But Evander, giving ground a little before his antagonist's onslaught, met the attacks with a mill-wheel revolution of his weapon which kept him scatheless, and then suddenly his cudgel shot out, came with a sullen crack on Sir Blaise's skull, and the tussle was over. Sir Blaise was lying his length on the grass, very still, and there was blood upon his ruddy hair.

Brilliana in hiding gave a little gasp when she saw her neighbor fall; she could not tell whether to laugh or cry at the defeat of the Cavalier. She saw Halfman bend over the fallen man and lift his head upon his knee. She saw Evander advance and look down upon his adversary.

"I hope you are not hurt," Evander said, solicitously.

Halfman glanced up at the victor. "No harm's done," he said. "He was stunned for the moment; he is coming round."

And in confirmation of his words Sir Blaise opened his eyes, and then with difficulty sat up and stared ruefully at Evander.

"Gogs!" he said, first rubbing his head and then looking at his reddened palm. "Gogs! That was a swinging snip. I am as dizzy as a winged pigeon."

"Let me help you to rise," Evander said, courteously. Blaise shook his aching head.

"I am none too fluttered to find my feet," he asserted, ignoring the fact that his rising from the ground to an erect posture was entirely due to the combined efforts of Halfman and Evander, one on each side, and then, when he did get to his feet, he was only able to retain the perpendicular by leaning heavily upon Halfman as a steady prop. From under his bandaged forehead his pale-blue eyes regarded Evander with no trace of enmity.

"Your hand, Puritan--your hand!" he cried. "'Tis just that we clasp hands after a scuffle."

Puritan and Cavalier clasped hands in a hearty grip. "I am at your service," Evander said, gravely. "Shall we continue?" Sir Blaise shook his head again.

"I have had my bellyful," he grunted. "There was breakfast, dinner, supper in your stroke. I must to the house to find vinegar and brown paper to patch my poll."

"Can I aid you?" Evander offered. "I have some slight skill in surgery."

"Leave him to me," Halfman interposed. "I have botched as many heads as I have broken."

Sir Blaise, leaning heavily on Halfman's arm, replied to Evander's offer in his own way.

"I will not have you mend ill what you have marred well. Come, crutch, let us be jogging. We will meet again another time, my fighting Puritan."

Evander made him a bow. "At your pleasure," he replied, and stood till Sir Blaise, leaning on Halfman, had hobbled out of the pleasaunce and limped out of sight. Then he drew on his jerkin again with a smile and a sigh.

"Truly," he thought, "for a man who has but three days to live, I cannot be said to be wasting much idle time." With that he took up again the book he had laid down and was soon deep in its study.