Black Magic by Marjorie Bowen (romantic novels in english .TXT) đ
- Author: Marjorie Bowen
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and the clear pale colour of his strange face; he held the instrument
across his knees and commenced playing on it with the long bow Jacobea
had given him; an irregular quick melody arose, harsh and jeering.
After he had played a while he began to sing, but in a chant under his
breath, so that the quality of his voice was not heard.
He sang strange meaningless words at first; the four listening sat
very still; only Sybilla had picked up her sewing, and her fingers
rose and fell steadily as the bodkin glittered over the red lily.
Theirry hid his face in his hands; he hated the place, the woman
quietly sewing, the dark-faced man beside him; he even hated the image
of Jacobea, that he saw, as clearly as if he looked at her, brightly
before him.
Dirk broke into a little doggerel rhyme, every word of which was hard
and clear.
âThe turkis in my fine spun hair Was brought to me from Barbarie.
My pointed shield is rouge and vair, Where mullets three shine
royallie.
Now if he guessed.
He need not wait in poor estate, But on his breast
Wear all my state and be my mate.
For sick for very love am I.
My heart is weak to kiss his cheek; But he is low, and I am high.
I cannot speak, for I am weak.â
Jacobea put the cat among the cushions and rose; she had a curious set
smile on her lips. âDo you call that the rhyme of a foolish lady?â she
asked.
âAy, for if she had offered her love, surely it had not been refused,â
answered Dirk, dragging the bow across the strings.
âYou think so?â said Jacobea in a shrinking tone.
âMark you, she was a rich lady,â smiled Dirk, âand fair enough, and
young and gentle, and he was poor; so I think, if she had not been so
foolish, she might have been his second wife.â
At these words Theirry looked up; he saw Jacobea standing in a
bewildered fashion, as if she knew not whether to go or stay, and in
her eyes an unmistakable look of amazement and horror.
âThe rhyme said nothing of the first wife,â remarked Sybilla, without
looking up from the red lily.
âThe rhyme says very little,â answered Dirk. âIt is an old storyâthe
squire had a wife, but if the lady had told her love belike he had
found himself a widower.â
Jacobea touched the stewardâs wife on the shoulder.
âDear heart,â she said, âI am wearyâvery weary with doing nought. And
it is lateâand the place strangeâtonightâat leastââshe gave a
trembling smileââI feel itâstrangeâsoâgood even.â
Sybilla rose, Jacobeaâs lips touched her on the forehead.
The steward watched them; Jacobea, the taller of the two, stooping to
kiss his wife. Theirry got to his feet; the chatelaine raised her head
and looked towards him.
âTo-morrow I will bid you God speed, sirs;â her blue eyes glanced
aside at Dirk, who had moved to the door by the fireplacer and held
it open for her; she looked back at Theirry, then round in silence and
coloured swiftly.
Sybilla glanced at the sand clock against the wall.
âYea, it is near midnight. I will come with you.â She put her arm
round Jacobeaâs waist, and smiled backwards over her shoulder at
Theirry; so they went, the sound of their garments on the stairs
making a faint soft noise; the little cat rose from her cushions,
stretched herself, and followed them.
Sebastian picked up the red silk lily that his wife had flung down on
the cushions; the candles were guttering to the iron sockets, making
the light in the chamber still dimmer, the corners still more deeply
obscured with waving shadows.
âYou know your chamber,â said the steward to Dirk. âYou will find me
here in the morning. Good-night.â
He took a bunch of keys from his belt and swung them in his hand.
âGood-night,â said Theirry heavily.
Dirk smiled, and threw himself into the vacated window-seat.
The steward crossed the room to the door by which they had entered; he
did not look back, though both were watching him; the door closed
after him violently, and they were alone in the vast darkening hall.
âThis is fine hospitality,â sneered Dirk. âIs there none to light us
to our chamber?â Theirry walked to and fro with an irregular agitated
step.
âWhat was that song of yours?â he asked. âWhat did you mean? What ails
this place and these people? She never looked at me.â
Dirk pulled at the strings of the instrument he still held; they
emitted little wailing sounds.
âShe is pretty, your chatelaine,â he said. âI did not think to see her
so soon. You love herâor you might love her.â
His bright eyes glanced across the shadowy space between them.
âYe mock and sneer at me,â answered Theirry hotly, âbecause she is a
great dame. I do not love her, and yetââ
âAnd yetâ?â goaded Dirk.
âIf our arts can do anything for usâcould they notâif I wished itâ
some dayâget this lady for me?â
He paused, his hand to his pale brow.
âYou shall never have her,â said Dirk, biting his under lip.
Theirry turned on him violently.
âYou cannot tell. Of what use to serve Evil for nought?â
âYe have done with remorse belike?â mocked Dirk. âYe have ceased to
long for priests and holy water?â
âAy,â said Theirry recklessly, âI shall not falter againâI will take
these meansâany meansââ
âTo attainâher?â Dirk got up from the window-seat and rose to his
full height.
Theirry gave him a sick look.
âI will not bandy taunts with you. I must sleep a little.â
âThey have given us the first chamber ye come to, ascending those
stairs,â answered Dirk quietly. âThere is a lamp, and the door is set
open. Good-night.â
âYou will not come?â asked Theirry sullenly.
âNay. I will sleep here.â
âWhy? You are strange tonight.â
Dirk smiled unpleasantly.
âThere is a reason. A good reason. Get to bed.â Theirry left him
without an answer, and closed the door upon him.
When he had gone, and there was no longer a sound of his footstep, a
rustle of the arras to tell he had been, a great change swept over
Dirkâs face; a look of agony, of distraction contorted his proud
features, he paced softly here and there, twisting his hands together
and lifting his eyes blindly to the painted ceiling.
Half the candles had flickered out; the others smoked and flared in
the sockets; the rain dripping on the windowsill without made an
insistent sound.
Dirk paused before the vast bare hearth.
âHe shall never have her,â he said in a low, steady voice as if he saw
and argued with some personage facing him. âNo. You will prevent it.
Have I not served you well? Ever since I left the convent? Did you not
promise me great powerâas the black letters of the forbidden books
swam before my eyes; did I not hear you whispering, whispering?â
He turned about as though following a movement in the person he spoke
to, and shivered.
âI will keep my comrade. Do you hear me? Did you send me here to
prevent it?âthey seemed to know you were at my elbow tonightâ
hush!âone comes!â
He fell back against the wall, his finger on his lips, his o her hand
clutching the arras behind him.
âHush!â he repeated.
The door at the far end of the chamber was slowly opened; a man
stepped in and cautiously closed it; a little cry of triumph rose to
Dirkâs lips, but he repressed it and gave a glance into the pulsating
shadows as if he communicated with some mysterious companion.
It was Sebastian who had entered; he looked swiftly round, and seeing
Dirk, came towards him.
In the stewardâs hand was a little cresset lamp; the clear, heart-shaped flame illuminated his dark face and his pink habit; his eyes
looked over this light in a burning way at Dirk. âSoâyou are not
abed?â he said.
There was more than the aimless comment in his tone, an expectation,
an excitement. âYou came to find me,â answered Dirk. âWhy?â
Sebastian set the lamp on a little bracket by the window he put his
hand to his neck, loosening his doublet, and looked away.
âIt is very hot,â he said in a low voice. âI cannot rest. I feel tonight as I have never feltâI think the cause is with youâwhat you
said has distracted me.â he turned his head. âWho are you? What did
you mean?â âYou know,â answered Dirk, âwhat I amâa poor student from
Basle college. And in your heart you know what I meant.â
Sebastian stared at him a moment.
âGod! But how could you discernâeven if it be true?âyou, a stranger.
But now I think of it, belike there is reason in itâcertes, she has
shown me favour.â
Dirk smiled.
ââTis a rich lady, her husband would be a noble, think of it.â
âWhat ye put into me!â cried Sebastian in a distracted voice. âThat I
should talk thus to a prating boy! But the thought clings and burnsâ
and surely ye are wise.â
Dirk, still leaning against the wall, smoothed the arras with delicate
fingers.
âSurely I am wise. Well skilled in difficult sciences am I, and quick
to seeâand understandâtake this for your hospitality, sir stewardâ
watch your mistress.â
Sebastian put his hand to his head.
âI have a wife.â
Dirk laughed.
âWill she live for ever?â
Sebastian looked at him and stammered, as if some sudden sight of
terror seared his eyes. âThereâthere is witchcraft in thisâyour
meaningââ
âThink of it!â flashed Dirk. âRemember it! Ye get no more from me.â
The steward stood quite still, gazing at him.
âI think that I have lost my wits tonight,â he said in a low voice.
âI do not know what I came down to you forânor whence come these
strange thoughts.â
Dirk nodded his head; a small, slow smile trembled on the corners of
his lips.
âPerchance I shall see you in Frankfort, sir steward.â
Sebastian caught at the words with eagerness.
âYeaâI go there withâmy ladyââ He stopped blankly.
âAs yet,â said Dirk, âI know neither my dwelling there nor the name I
shall assume. But youâif I need to I shall find you at the Emperorâs
court?â
âYea,â answered Sebastian; then, reluctantly, âWhat should you want
with me?â
âWill it not be you who may need me?â smiled Dirk. âI, who have tonight put thoughts into your brain that you will not forget?â
Sebastian turned about quickly, and caught up the cresset lamp.
âI will see you before you go,â he whispered, horror in his face.
âYea, on the morrow I shall desire more speech with you.â
Like a man afraid, in terror of himself, filled with a dread of his
companion, Sebastian, the pure flame of the lamp quivering with the
shaking of his hand, crossed the long chamber and left by the door
through which he had entered.
Dirk gave a half-suppressed shiver of excitement; the candles had
mostly burnt out; the hall seemed monstrous in the gusty, straggling
light. He crept to the window; the rain had ceased, and he looked out
on a hot starless darkness, disturbed
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