第6章

Iwillteachyoutocomekissinghonestmen’sdaughterswithouttheirleave，’andwithacurseherushedatme，stickaloft，tothrashme。

Thenforthesecondtimethatdaymyquickbloodboiledinme，andsnatchinguptheSpaniard’sswordthatlayuponthegrassbesideme，Ihelditatthepoint，forthegamewaschanged，andIwhohadfoughtwithcudgelagainstsword，mustnowfightwithswordagainstcudgel。

AndhaditnotbeenthatLilywithaquickcryoffearstruckmyarmfrombeneath，causingthepointoftheswordtopassoverhisshoulder，IbelievetrulythatIshouldthenandtherehavepiercedherfatherthrough，andendedmydaysearlywithanooseaboutmyneck。

’Areyoumad？’shecried。

’Anddoyouthinktowinmebyslayingmyfather？

Throwdownthatsword，Thomas。’

’Asforwinningyou，itseemsthatthereissmallchanceofit；’I

answeredhotly，’butItellyouthis，notforthesakeofallthemaidsupontheearthwillIstandtobebeatenwithasticklikeascullion。’

’AndthereIdonotblameyou，lad，’saidherfather，morekindly。

’Iseethatyoualsohavecouragewhichmayserveyouingoodstead，anditwasunworthyofmetocallyou“pill-box“inmyanger。

Still，asIhavesaid，thegirlisnotforyou，sobegoneandforgetherasbestyoumay，andifyouvalueyourlife，neverletmefindyoutwokissingagain。

Andknowthatto-morrowIwillhaveawordwithyourfatheronthismatter。’

’IwillgosinceImustgo，’Ianswered，’but，sir，Istillhopetolivetocallyourdaughterwife。

Lily，farewelltillthesestormsareoverpast。’

’Farewell，Thomas，’shesaidweeping。

’ForgetmenotandIwillneverforgetmyoathtoyou。’

ThentakingLilybythearmherfatherledheraway。

Ialsowentaway——sad，butnotaltogetherill-pleased。

FornowI

knewthatifIhadwonthefather’sanger，Ihadalsowonthedaughter’sunalterablelove，andlovelastslongerthanwrath，andhereorhereafterwillwinitswayatlength。

WhenIhadgonealittledistanceIrememberedtheSpaniard，whohadbeencleanforgottenbymeinallthisloveandwar，andIturnedtoseekhimanddraghimtothestocks，thewhichIshouldhavedonewithjoy，andbeengladtofindsomeoneonwhomtowreakmywrongs。

ButwhenIcametothespotwhereIhadlefthim，Ifoundthatfatehadbefriendedhimbythehandofafool，fortherewasnoSpaniardbutonlythevillageidiot，BillyMinnsbyname，whostoodstaringfirstatthetreetowhichtheforeignerhadbeenmadefast，andthenatapieceofsilverinhishand。

’Whereisthemanwhowastiedhere，Billy？’Iasked。

’Iknownot，MasterThomas，’heansweredinhisNorfolktalkwhichIwillnotsetdown。

’Half-waytowheresoeverhewasgoingI

shouldsay，measuredbythepaceatwhichheleftwhenonceIhadsethimuponhishorse。’

’Yousethimonhishorse，fool？

Howlongwasthatago？’

’Howlong！

Well，itmightbeonehour，anditmightbetwo。

I’mnoreckoneroftime，thatkeepsitsownscorelikeaninnkeeper，withoutmyhelp。

Lawks！howhedidgallopoff，workingthoselongspursheworerightintotheribsofthehorse。

Andlittlewonder，poorman，andhedaft，notbeingabletospeak，butonlytobleatsheeplike，andfallenuponbyrobbersontheking’sroads，andinbroaddaylight。

ButBillycuthimlooseandcaughthishorseandsethimonit，andgotthispieceforhisgoodcharity。

Lawks！buthewasgladtobegone。

Howhedidgallop！’

’NowyouareabiggerfooleventhanIthoughtyou，BillyMinns，’I

saidinanger。

’Thatmanwouldhavemurderedme，Iovercamehimandmadehimfast，andyouhavelethimgo。’

’Hewouldhavemurderedyou，Master，andyoumadehimfast！

ThenwhydidyounotstoptokeephimtillIcamealong，andwewouldhavehaledhimtothestocks？

Thatwouldhavebeensportandall。

Youcallmefool——butifyoufoundamancoveredwithbloodandhurtstiedtoatree，andhedaftandnotabletospeak，hadyounotcuthimloose？

Well，he’sgone，andthisaloneisleftofhim，’andhespunthepieceintotheair。

Now，seeingthattherewasreasoninBilly’stalk，forthefaultwasmine，Iturnedawaywithoutmorewords，notstraighthomewards，forIwishedtothinkaloneawhileonallthathadcomeaboutbetweenmeandLilyandherfather，butdownthewaywhichrunsacrossthelanetothecrestoftheVineyardHills。

Thesehillsareclothedwithunderwood，inwhichlargeoaksgrowtowithinsometwohundredyardsofthishousewhereIwrite，andthisunderwoodispiercedbypathsthatmymotherlaidout，forshelovedtowalkhere。

OneofthesepathsrunsalongthebottomofthehillbytheedgeofthepleasantriverWaveney，andtheotherahundredfeetormoreaboveandnearthecrestoftheslope，ortospeakmoreplainly，thereisbutonepathshapedliketheletterO，placedthus[symbolofOlayingonitssideomitted]，thecurvedendsofthelettermarkinghowthepathturnsuponthehill-side。

NowIstruckthepathattheendthatisfurthestfromthishouse，andfollowedthathalfofitwhichrunsdownbytheriverbank，havingthewaterononesideofitandthebrushwoodupontheother。

AlongthislowerpathIwandered，myeyesfixedupontheground，thinkingdeeplyasIwent，nowofthejoyofLily’slove，andnowofthesorrowofourpartingandofherfather’swrath。

AsIwent，thuswrappedinmeditation，Isawsomethingwhitelyinguponthegrass，andpusheditasidewiththepointoftheSpaniard’ssword，notheedingit。

Still，itsshapeandfashioningremainedinmymind，andwhenIhadleftitsomethreehundredpacesbehindme，andwasdrawingneartothehouse，thesightofitcamebacktomeasitlaysoftandwhiteuponthegrass，andIknewthatitwasfamiliartomyeyes。

Fromthething，whateveritmightbe，mymindpassedtotheSpaniard’sswordwithwhichIhadtosseditaside，andfromtheswordtothemanhimself。

Whathadbeenhisbusinessinthisparish？——anillonesurely——andwhyhadhelookedasthoughhefearedmeandfallenuponmewhenhelearnedmyname？

Istoodstill，lookingdownward，andmyeyesfelluponfootprintsstampedinthewetsandofthepath。

Oneofthemwasmymother’s。

Icouldhavesworntoitamongathousand，fornootherwomaninthesepartshadsodelicateafoot。

Closetoit，asthoughfollowingafter，wasanotherthatatfirstIthoughtmustalsohavebeenmadebyawoman，itwassonarrow。

ButpresentlyIsawthatthiscouldscarcelybe，becauseofitslength，andmoreover，thatthebootwhichleftitwaslikenonethatIknew，beingcutveryhighattheinstepandverypointedatthetoe。

Then，ofasudden，itcameuponmethattheSpanishstrangerworesuchboots，forI

hadnotedthemwhileItalkedwithhim，andthathisfeetwerefollowingthoseofmymother，fortheyhadtroddenonhertrack，andinsomeplaces，hisalonehadstampedtheirimpressonthesandblottingoutherfootprints。

Then，too，IknewwhatthewhiteragwasthatIhadthrownaside。

Itwasmymother’smantillawhichI

knew，andyetdidnotknow，becauseIalwayssawitsetdaintilyuponherhead。

Inamomentithadcomehometome，andwiththeknowledgeakeenandsickeningdread。

Whyhadthismanfollowedmymother，andwhydidhermantillaliethusupontheground？

IturnedandspedlikeadeerbacktowhereIhadseenthelace。

Allthewaythefootprintswentbeforeme。

NowIwasthere。

Yes，thewrappingwashers，andithadbeenrentasthoughbyarudehand；butwherewasshe？

WithabeatingheartoncemoreIbenttoreadthewritingofthefootsteps。

Heretheyweremixedonewithanother，asthoughthetwohadstoodclosetogether，movingnowthiswayandnowthatinstruggle。

Ilookedupthepath，buttherewerenone。

ThenIcastroundaboutlikeabeagle，firstalongtheriverside，thenupthebank。

Heretheywereagain，andmadebyfeetthatflewandfeetthatfollowed。

Upthebanktheywentfiftyyardsandmore，nowlostwheretheturfwassound，nowseeninsandorloam，tilltheyledtotheboleofabigoak，andwereoncemoremixedtogether，forherethepursuerhadcomeupwiththepursued。

Despairinglyasonewhodreams，fornowIguessedallandgrewmadwithfear，Ilookedthiswayandthat，tillatlengthIfoundmorefootsteps，thoseoftheSpaniard。

Theseweredeepmarked，asofamanwhocarriedsomeheavyburden。

Ifollowedthem；firsttheywentdownthehilltowardstheriver，thenturnedasidetoaspotwherethebrushwoodwasthick。

Inthedeepestoftheclumptheboughs，nowburstingintoleaf，werebentdownwardsasthoughtohidesomethingbeneath。

Iwrenchedthemaside，andthere，gleamingwhitelyinthegatheringtwilightwasthedeadfaceofmymother。

ForawhileIstoodamazedwithhorror，staringdownatthedeadfaceofmybelovedmother。

ThenIstoopedtoliftherandsawthatshehadbeenstabbed，andthroughthebreast，stabbedwiththeswordwhichIcarriedinmyhand。

NowIunderstood。

ThiswastheworkofthatSpanishstrangerwhomIhadmetashehurriedfromtheplaceofmurder，who，becauseofthewickednessofhisheartorforsomesecretreason，hadstriventoslaymealsowhenhelearnedthatIwasmymother’sson。

AndI

hadheldthisdevilinmypower，andthatImightmeetmyMay，I

hadsufferedhimtoescapemyvengeance，who，hadIknownthetruth，wouldhavedealtwithhimasthepriestsofAnahuacdealwiththevictimsoftheirgods。

Iunderstoodandshedtearsofpity，rage，andshame。

ThenIturnedandfledhomewardslikeonemad。

AtthedoorwayImetmyfatherandmybrotherGeoffreyridingupfromBungaymarket，andtherewasthatwrittenonmyfacewhichcausedthemtoaskaswithonevoice:

’Whatevilthinghashappened？’

ThriceIlookedatmyfatherbeforeIcouldspeak，forIfearedlesttheblowshouldkillhim。

ButspeakImustatlast，thoughI

chosethatitshouldbetoGeoffreymybrother。

’OurmotherliesmurderedyonderontheVineyardHill。

ASpanishmanhasdonethedeed，JuandeGarciabyname。’

Whenmyfatherheardthesewordshisfacebecamelividasthoughwithpainoftheheart，hisjawfellandalowmoanissuedfromhisopenmouth。

Presentlyherestedhishanduponthepommelofthesaddle，andliftinghisghastlyfacehesaid:

’WhereisthisSpaniard？

Haveyoukilledhim？’

’No，father。

HechanceduponmeinGrubswell，andwhenhelearnedmynamehewouldhavemurderedme。

ButIplayedquarterstaffwithhimandbeathimtoapulp，takinghissword。’

’Ay，andthen？’

’AndthenIlethimgo，knowingnothingofthedeedhehadalreadywroughtuponourmother。

AfterwardsIwilltellyouall。’

’Youlethimgo，son！

YouletJuandeGarciago！