CHAPTER XIV
HOW SALVATION YEO SLEW THE KING OF THE GUBBINGS
"Ignorance and evil, even in full flight, deal terrible backhanded strokes at their pursuers."--HELPS.
Now I am sorry to say, for the honor of my country, that it was by nomeans a safe thing in those days to travel from Plymouth to the north ofDevon; because, to get to your journey's end, unless you were minded tomake a circuit of many miles, you must needs pass through the territoryof a foreign and hostile potentate, who had many times ravaged thedominions, and defeated the forces of her Majesty Queen Elizabeth, andwas named (behind his back at least) the King of the Gubbings. "So nowI dare call them," says Fuller, "secured by distance, which one of morevalor durst not do to their face, for fear their fury fall upon him. Yethitherto have I met with none who could render a reason of their name.We call the shavings of fish (which are little worth) gubbings; and sureit is that they are sensible that the word importeth shame and disgrace.
"As for the suggestion of my worthy and learned friend, Mr. JosephMaynard, that such as did inhabitare montes gibberosos, were calledGubbings, such will smile at the ingenuity who dissent from the truth ofthe etymology.
"I have read of an England beyond Wales, but the Gubbings land is aScythia within England, and they pure heathens therein. It lieth nighBrent. For in the edge of Dartmoor it is reported that, some two hundredyears since, two bad women, being with child, fled thither to hidethemselves; to whom certain lewd fellows resorted, and this was theirfirst original. They are a peculiar of their own making, exempt frombishop, archdeacon, and all authority, either ecclesiastical or civil.They live in cots (rather holes than houses) like swine, having all incommon, multiplied without marriage into many hundreds. Their languageis the dross of the dregs of the vulgar Devonian; and the more learneda man is, the worse he can understand them. During our civil wars nosoldiers were quartered upon them, for fear of being quartered amongstthem. Their wealth consisteth in other men's goods; they live bystealing the sheep on the moors; and vain is it for any to search theirhouses, being a work beneath the pains of any sheriff, and above thepower of any constable. Such is their fleetness, they will outrun manyhorses; vivaciousness, they outlive most men; living in an ignorance ofluxury, the extinguisher of life. They hold together like bees; offendone, and all will revenge his quarrel.
"But now I am informed that they begin to be civilized, and tender theirchildren to baptism, and return to be men, yea, Christians again. I hopeno CIVIL people amongst us will turn barbarians, now these barbariansbegin to be civilized."*
* Fuller, p. 398.
With which quip against the Anabaptists of his day, Fuller ends hisstory; and I leave him to set forth how Amyas, in fear of these sameScythians and heathens, rode out of Plymouth on a right good horse, inhis full suit of armor, carrying lance and sword, and over and above twogreat dags, or horse-pistols; and behind him Salvation Yeo, and fiveor six north Devon men (who had served with him in Ireland, and werereturning on furlough), clad in head-pieces and quilted jerkins, eachman with his pike and sword, and Yeo with arquebuse and match, while twosumpter ponies carried the baggage of this formidable troop.
They pushed on as fast as they could, through Tavistock, to reach beforenightfall Lydford, where they meant to sleep; but what with buying thehorses, and other delays, they had not been able to start beforenoon; and night fell just as they reached the frontiers of the enemy'scountry. A dreary place enough it was, by the wild glare of sunset. Ahigh tableland of heath, banked on the right by the crags and hills ofDartmoor, and sloping away to the south and west toward the foot of thegreat cone of Brent-Tor, which towered up like an extinct volcano (assome say that it really is), crowned with the tiny church, the votiveoffering of some Plymouth merchant of old times, who vowed in soredistress to build a church to the Blessed Virgin on the first point ofEnglish land which he should see. Far away, down those waste slopes,they could see the tiny threads of blue smoke rising from the dens ofthe Gubbings; and more than once they called a halt, to examine whetherdistant furze-bushes and ponies might not be the patrols of an advancingarmy. It is all very well to laugh at it now, in the nineteenth century,but it was no laughing matter then; as they found before they had gonetwo miles farther.
On the middle of the down stood a wayside inn; a desolate andvillainous-looking lump of lichen-spotted granite, with windowspaper-patched, and rotting thatch kept down by stones and straw-banks;and at the back a rambling court-ledge of barns and walls, around whichpigs and barefoot children grunted in loving communion of dirt. At thedoor, rapt apparently in the contemplation of the mountain peaks whichglowed rich orange in the last lingering sun-rays, but really watchingwhich way the sheep on the moor were taking, stood the innkeeper, abrawny, sodden-visaged, blear-eyed six feet of brutishness, holding uphis hose with one hand, for want of points, and clawing with the otherhis elf-locks, on which a fair sprinkling of feathers might denote:first, that he was just out of bed, having been out sheep-stealingall the night before; and secondly, that by natural genius he hadanticipated the opinion of that great apostle of sluttishness,Fridericus Dedekind, and his faithful disciple Dekker, which last speaksthus to all gulls and grobians: "Consider that as those trees of cobweblawn, woven by spinners in the fresh May mornings, do dress the curledheads of the mountains, and adorn the swelling bosoms of the valleys; oras those snowy fleeces, which the naked briar steals from the innocentsheep to make himself a warm winter livery, are, to either of themboth, an excellent ornament; so make thou account, that to have featherssticking here and there on thy head will embellish thee, and set thycrown out rarely. None dare upbraid thee, that like a beggar thou hastlain on straw, or like a travelling pedlar upon musty flocks; for thosefeathers will rise up as witnesses to choke him that says so, and toprove thy bed to have been of the softest down." Even so did thosefeathers bear witness that the possessor of Rogues' Harbor Inn, onBrent-Tor Down, whatever else he lacked, lacked not geese enough to keephim in soft lying.
Presently he spies Amyas and his party coming slowly over the hill,pricks up his ears, and counts them; sees Amyas's armor; shakes his headand grunts; and then, being a man of few words, utters a sleepy howl--
"Mirooi!--Fushing pooale!"
A strapping lass--whose only covering (for country women at work inthose days dispensed with the ornament of a gown) is a green bodice andred petticoat, neither of them over ample--brings out his fishing-rodand basket, and the man, having tied up his hose with some ends ofstring, examines the footlink.
"Don vlies' gone!"
"May be," says Mary; "shouldn't hay' left mun out to coort. May be oldhen's ate mun off. I see her chocking about a while agone."
The host receives this intelligence with an oath, and replies by aviolent blow at Mary's head, which she, accustomed to such slightmatters, dodges, and then returns the blow with good effect on the shockhead.
Whereon mine host, equally accustomed to such slight matters, quietlyshambles off, howling as he departs--
"Tell Patrico!"
Mary runs in, combs her hair, slips a pair of stockings and her bestgown over her dirt, and awaits the coming guests, who make a few longfaces at the "mucksy sort of a place," but prefer to spend the nightthere than to bivouac close to the enemy's camp.
So the old hen who has swallowed the dun fly is killed, plucked, androasted, and certain "black Dartmoor mutton" is put on the gridiron, andbeing compelled to confess the truth by that fiery torment, proclaimsitself to all noses as red-deer venison. In the meanwhile Amyas has puthis horse and the ponies into a shed, to which he can find neitherlock nor key, and therefore returns grumbling, not without fear for hissteed's safety. The baggage is heaped in a corner of the room, and Amyasstretches his legs before a turf fire; while Yeo, who has his notionsabout the place, posts himself at the door, and the men are seized witha desire to superintend the cooking, probably to be attributed to thefact that Mary is cook.
Presently Yeo comes in again.
"
There's a gentleman just coming up, sir, all alone."
"Ask him to make one of our party, then, with my compliments." Yeo goesout, and returns in five minutes.
"Please, sir, he's gone in back ways, by the court."
"Well, he has an odd taste, if he makes himself at home here."
Out goes Yeo again, and comes back once more after five minutes, in highexcitement.
"Come out, sir; for goodness' sake come out. I've got him. Safe as a ratin a trap, I have!"
"Who?"
"A Jesuit, sir."
"Nonsense, man!"
"I tell you truth, sir. I went round the house, for I didn't like thelooks of him as he came up. I knew he was one of them villains theminute he came up, by the way he turned in his toes, and put down hisfeet so still and careful, like as if he was afraid of offending God atevery step. So I just put my eye between the wall and the dern of thegate, and I saw him come up to the back door and knock, and call 'Mary!'quite still, like any Jesuit; and the wench flies out to him ready toeat him; and 'Go away,' I heard her say, 'there's a dear man;' and thensomething about a 'queer cuffin' (that's a justice in these canters'thieves' Latin); and with that he takes out a somewhat--I'll swear itwas one of those Popish Agnuses--and gives it her; and she kisses it,and crosses herself, and asks him if that's the right way, and then putsit into her bosom, and he says, 'Bless you, my daughter;' and then I wassure of the dog: and he slips quite still to the stable, and peeps in,and when he sees no one there, in he goes, and out I go, and shut to thedoor, and back a cart that was there up against it, and call out one ofthe men to watch the stable, and the girl's crying like mad."
"What a fool's trick, man! How do you know that he is not some honestgentleman, after all?"
"Fool or none, sir; honest gentlemen don't give maidens Agnuses. I'veput him in; and if you want him let out again, you must come and do ityourself, for my conscience is against it, sir. If the Lord's enemiesare delivered into my hand, I'm answerable, sir," went on Yeo as Amyashurried out with him. "'Tis written, 'If any let one of them go, hislife shall be for the life of him.'"
So Amyas ran out, pulled back the cart grumbling, opened the door, andbegan a string of apologies to--his cousin Eustace.
Yes, here he was, with such a countenance, half foolish, half venomous,as reynard wears when the last spadeful of earth is thrown back, andhe is revealed sitting disconsolately on his tail within a yard of theterriers' noses.
Neither cousin spoke for a minute or two. At last Amyas--
"Well, cousin hide-and-seek, how long have you added horse-stealing toyour other trades?"
"My dear Amyas," said Eustace, very meekly, "I may surely go into an innstable without intending to steal what is in it."
"Of course, old fellow," said Amyas, mollified, "I was only in jest. Butwhat brings you here? Not prudence, certainly."
"I am bound to know no prudence save for the Lord's work."
"That's giving away Agnus Deis, and deceiving poor heathen wenches, Isuppose," said Yeo.
Eustace answered pretty roundly--
"Heathens? Yes, truly; you Protestants leave these poor wretchesheathens, and then insult and persecute those who, with a devotionunknown to you, labor at the danger of their lives to make themChristians. Mr. Amyas Leigh, you can give me up to be hanged at Exeter,if it shall so please you to disgrace your own family; but from thisspot neither you, no, nor all the myrmidons of your queen, shall driveme, while there is a soul here left unsaved."
"Come out of the stable, at least," said Amyas; "you don't want to makethe horses Papists, as well as the asses, do you? Come out, man, and goto the devil your own way. I sha'n't inform against you; and Yeo herewill hold his tongue if I tell him, I know."
"It goes sorely against my conscience, sir; but being that he is yourcousin, of course--"
"Of course; and now come in and eat with me; supper's just ready, andbygones shall be bygones, if you will have them so."
How much forgiveness Eustace felt in his heart, I know not: but he knew,of course, that he ought to forgive; and to go in and eat with Amyas wasto perform an act of forgiveness, and for the best of motives, too, forby it the cause of the Church might be furthered; and acts and motivesbeing correct, what more was needed? So in he went; and yet he neverforgot that scar upon his cheek; and Amyas could not look him in theface but Eustace must fancy that his eyes were on the scar, and peepup from under his lids to see if there was any smile of triumph on thathonest visage. They talked away over the venison, guardedly enough atfirst; but as they went on, Amyas's straightforward kindliness warmedpoor Eustace's frozen heart; and ere they were aware, they foundthemselves talking over old haunts and old passages of theirboyhood--uncles, aunts, and cousins; and Eustace, without any sinisterintention, asked Amyas why he was going to Bideford, while Frank and hismother were in London.
"To tell you the truth, I cannot rest till I have heard the whole storyabout poor Rose Salterne."
"What about her?" cried Eustace.
"Do you not know?"
"How should I know anything here? For heaven's sake, what has happened?"
Amyas told him, wondering at his eagerness, for he had never had theleast suspicion of Eustace's love.
Eustace shrieked aloud.
"Fool, fool that I have been! Caught in my own trap! Villain, villainthat he is! After all he promised me at Lundy!"
And springing up, Eustace stamped up and down the room, gnashinghis teeth, tossing his head from side to side, and clutching withoutstretched hands at the empty air, with the horrible gesture (Heavengrant that no reader has ever witnessed it!) of that despair which stillseeks blindly for the object which it knows is lost forever.
Amyas sat thunderstruck. His first impulse was to ask, "Lundy? Whatknew you of him? What had he or you to do at Lundy?" but pity conqueredcuriosity.
"Oh, Eustace! And you then loved her too?"
"Don't speak to me! Loved her? Yes, sir, and had as good a right to loveher as any one of your precious Brotherhood of the Rose. Don't speak tome, I say, or I shall do you a mischief!"
So Eustace knew of the brotherhood too! Amyas longed to ask him how; butwhat use in that? If he knew it, he knew it; and what harm? So he onlyanswered:
"My good cousin, why be wroth with me? If you really love her, now isthe time to take counsel with me how best we shall--"
Eustace did not let him finish his sentence. Conscious that he hadbetrayed himself upon more points than one, he stopped short in hiswalk, suddenly collected himself by one great effort, and eyed Amyasfrom underneath his brows with the old down look.
"How best we shall do what, my valiant cousin?" said he, in a meaningand half-scornful voice. "What does your most chivalrous Brotherhood ofthe Rose purpose in such a case?"
Amyas, a little nettled, stood on his guard in return, and answeredbluntly--
"What the Brotherhood of the Rose will do, I can't yet say. What itought to do, I have a pretty sure guess."
"So have I. To hunt her down as you would an outlaw, because forsoothshe has dared to love a Catholic; to murder her lover in her arms, anddrag her home again stained with his blood, to be forced by threats andpersecution to renounce that Church into whose maternal bosom she hasdoubtless long since found rest and holiness!"
"If she has found holiness, it matters little to me where she has foundit, Master Eustace, but that is the very point that I should be glad toknow for certain."
"And you will go and discover for yourself?"
"Have you no wish to discover it also?"
"And if I had, what would that be to you?"
"Only," said Amyas, trying hard to keep his temper, "that, if we had thesame purpose, we might sail in the same ship."
"You intend to sail, then?"
"I mean simply, that we might work together."
"Our paths lie on very different roads, sir!"
"I am afraid you never spoke a truer word, sir. In the meanwhile, ere wepart, be so kind as to tell me what you meant by sayin
g that you had metthis Spaniard at Lundy?"
"I shall refuse to answer that."
"You will please to recollect, Eustace, that however good friends wehave been for the last half-hour, you are in my power. I have a right toknow the bottom of this matter; and, by heaven, I will know it."
"In your power? See that you are not in mine! Remember, sir, that youare within a--within a few miles, at least, of those who will obey me,their Catholic benefactor, but who owe no allegiance to those Protestantauthorities who have left them to the lot of the beasts which perish."
Amyas was very angry. He wanted but little more to make him catchEustace by the shoulders, shake the life out of him, and deliver himinto the tender guardianship of Yeo; but he knew that to take him atall was to bring certain death on him, and disgrace on the family; andremembering Frank's conduct on that memorable night at Clovelly, he kepthimself down.
"Take me," said Eustace, "if you will, sir. You, who complain of us thatwe keep no faith with heretics, will perhaps recollect that you asked meinto this room as your guest, and that in your good faith I trusted whenI entered it."
The argument was a worthless one in law; for Eustace had been a prisonerbefore he was a guest, and Amyas was guilty of something very likemisprision of treason in not handing him over to the nearest justice.However, all he did was, to go to the door, open it, and bowing to hiscousin, bid him walk out and go to the devil, since he seemed to haveset his mind on ending his days in the company of that personage.
Whereon Eustace vanished.
"Pooh!" said Amyas to himself, "I can find out enough, and too much, Ifear, without the help of such crooked vermin. I must see Cary; I mustsee Salterne; and I suppose, if I am ready to do my duty, I shall learnsomehow what it is. Now to sleep; to-morrow up and away to what Godsends."
"Come in hither, men," shouted he down the passage, "and sleep here.Haven't you had enough of this villainous sour cider?"
The men came in yawning, and settled themselves to sleep on the floor.
"Where's Yeo?"
No one knew; he had gone out to say his prayers, and had not returned.
"Never mind," said Amyas, who suspected some plot on the old man's part."He'll take care of himself, I'll warrant him."
"No fear of that, sir;" and the four tars were soon snoring in concertround the fire, while Amyas laid himself on the settle, with his saddlefor a pillow.
* * * * *
It was about midnight, when Amyas leaped to his feet, or rather fellupon his back, upsetting saddle, settle, and finally, table, under thenotion that ten thousand flying dragons were bursting in the windowclose to his ear, with howls most fierce and fell. The flying dragonspast, however, being only a flock of terror-stricken geese, which flewflapping and screaming round the corner of the house; but the noisewhich had startled them did not pass; and another minute made it evidentthat a sharp fight was going on in the courtyard, and that Yeo washallooing lustily for help.
Out turned the men, sword in hand, burst the back door open, stumblingover pails and pitchers, and into the courtyard, where Yeo, his backagainst the stable-door, was holding his own manfully with sword andbuckler against a dozen men.
Dire and manifold was the screaming; geese screamed, chickens screamed,pigs screamed, donkeys screamed, Mary screamed from an upper window;and to complete the chorus, a flock of plovers, attracted by the noise,wheeled round and round overhead, and added their screams also to thatDutch concert.
The screaming went on, but the fight ceased; for, as Amyas rushed intothe yard, the whole party of ruffians took to their heels, and vanishedover a low hedge at the other end of the yard.
"Are you hurt, Yeo?"
"Not a scratch, thank Heaven! But I've got two of them, the ringleaders,I have. One of them's against the wall. Your horse did for t'other."
The wounded man was lifted up; a huge ruffian, nearly as big as Amyashimself. Yeo's sword had passed through his body. He groaned and chokedfor breath.
"Carry him indoors. Where is the other?"
"Dead as a herring, in the straw. Have a care, men, have a care how yougo in! the horses are near mad!"
However, the man was brought out after a while. With him all was over.They could feel neither pulse nor breath.
"Carry him in too, poor wretch. And now, Yeo, what is the meaning of allthis?"
Yeo's story was soon told. He could not get out of his Puritan head thenotion (quite unfounded, of course) that Eustace had meant to stealthe horses. He had seen the inn-keeper sneak off at their approach; andexpecting some night-attack, he had taken up his lodging for the nightin the stable.
As he expected, an attempt was made. The door was opened (how, he couldnot guess, for he had fastened it inside), and two fellows came in, andbegan to loose the beasts. Yeo's account was, that he seized the bigfellow, who drew a knife on him, and broke loose; the horses, terrifiedat the scuffle, kicked right and left; one man fell, and the otherran out, calling for help, with Yeo at his heels; "Whereon," saidYeo, "seeing a dozen more on me with clubs and bows, I thought best toshorten the number while I could, ran the rascal through, and stood onmy ward; and only just in time I was, what's more; there's two arrows inthe house wall, and two or three more in my buckler, which I caught upas I went out, for I had hung it close by the door, you see, sir, to beall ready in case," said the cunning old Philistine-slayer, as they wentin after the wounded man.
But hardly had they stumbled through the low doorway into theback-kitchen when a fresh hubbub arose inside--more shouts for help.Amyas ran forward breaking his head against the doorway, and beheld, assoon as he could see for the flashes in his eyes, an old acquaintance,held on each side by a sturdy sailor.
With one arm in the sleeve of his doublet, and the other in a not overspotless shirt; holding up his hose with one hand, and with the othera candle, whereby he had lighted himself to his own confusion; foamingwith rage, stood Mr. Evan Morgans, alias Father Parsons, looking,between his confused habiliments and his fiery visage (as Yeo told himto his face), "the very moral of a half-plucked turkey-cock." And behindhim, dressed, stood Eustace Leigh.
"We found the maid letting these here two out by the front door," saidone of the captors.
"Well, Mr. Parsons," said Amyas; "and what are you about here? A prettynest of thieves and Jesuits we seem to have routed out this evening."
"About my calling, sir," said Parsons, stoutly. "By your leave, Ishall prepare this my wounded lamb for that account to which your man'scruelty has untimely sent him."
The wounded man, who lay upon the floor, heard Parsons' voice, andmoaned for the "Patrico."
"You see, sir," said he, pompously, "the sheep know their shepherd'svoice."
"The wolves you mean, you hypocritical scoundrel!" said Amyas, who couldnot contain his disgust. "Let the fellow truss up his points, lads, anddo his work. After all, the man is dying."
"The requisite matters, sir, are not at hand," said Parsons, unabashed.
"Eustace, go and fetch his matters for him; you seem to be in all hisplots."
Eustace went silently and sullenly.
"What's that fresh noise at the back, now?"
"The maid, sir, a wailing over her uncle; the fellow that we saw sneakaway when we came up. It was him the horse killed."
It was true. The wretched host had slipped off on their approach, simplyto call the neighboring outlaws to the spoil; and he had been filledwith the fruit of his own devices.
"His blood be on his own head," said Amyas.
"I question, sir," said Yeo, in a low voice, "whether some of it willnot be on the heads of those proud prelates who go clothed in purpleand fine linen, instead of going forth to convert such as he, and thenwonder how these Jesuits get hold of them. If they give place to thedevil in their sheepfolds, sure he'll come in and lodge there. Look,sir, there's a sight in a gospel land!"
And, indeed, the sight was curious enough. For Parsons was kneeling bythe side of the dying man, listening earnestly to
the confession whichthe man sobbed out in his gibberish, between the spasms of his woundedchest. Now and then Parsons shook his head; and when Eustace returnedwith the holy wafer, and the oil for extreme unction, he asked him, in alow voice, "Ballard, interpret for me."
And Eustace knelt down on the other side of the sufferer, andinterpreted his thieves' dialect into Latin; and the dying man helda hand of each, and turned first to one and then to the other stupideyes,--not without affection, though, and gratitude.
"I can't stand this mummery any longer," said Yeo. "Here's a soulperishing before my eyes, and it's on my conscience to speak a word inseason."
"Silence!" whispered Amyas, holding him back by the arm; "he knows them,and he don't know you; they are the first who ever spoke to him as ifhe had a soul to be saved, and first come, first served; you can do nogood. See, the man's face is brightening already."
"But, sir, 'tis a false peace."
"At all events he is confessing his sins, Yeo; and if that's not goodfor him, and you, and me, what is?"
"Yea, Amen! sir; but this is not to the right person."
"How do you know his words will not go to the right person, after all,though he may not send them there? By heaven! the man is dead!"
It was so. The dark catalogue of brutal deeds had been gasped out; butere the words of absolution could follow, the head had fallen back, andall was over.
"Confession in extremis is sufficient," said Parsons to Eustace("Ballard," as Parsons called him, to Amyas's surprise), as he rose. "Asfor the rest, the intention will be accepted instead of the act."
"The Lord have mercy on his soul!" said Eustace.
"His soul is lost before our very eyes," said Yeo.
"Mind your own business," said Amyas.
"Humph; but I'll tell you, sir, what our business is, if you'll stepaside with me. I find that poor fellow that lies dead is none other thanthe leader of the Gubbings; the king of them, as they dare to call him."
"Well, what of that?"
"Mark my words, sir, if we have not a hundred stout rogues upon usbefore two hours are out; forgive us they never will; and if we get offwith our lives, which I don't much expect, we shall leave our horsesbehind; for we can hold the house, sir, well enough till morning, butthe courtyard we can't, that's certain!"
"We had better march at once, then."
"Think, sir; if they catch us up--as they are sure to do, knowing thecountry better than we--how will our shot stand their arrows?"
"True, old wisdom; we must keep the road; and we must keep together; andso be a mark for them, while they will be behind every rock and bank;and two or three flights of arrows will do our business for us. Humph!stay, I have a plan." And stepping forward he spoke--
"Eustace, you will be so kind as to go back to your lambs; and tellthem, that if they meddle with us cruel wolves again to-night, we areready and willing to fight to the death, and have plenty of shot andpowder at their service. Father Parsons, you will be so kind as toaccompany us; it is but fitting that the shepherd should be hostage forhis sheep."
"If you carry me off this spot, sir, you carry my corpse only," saidParsons. "I may as well die here as be hanged elsewhere, like mymartyred brother Campian."
"If you take him, you must take me too," said Eustace.
"What if we won't?"
"How will you gain by that? you can only leave me here. You cannot makeme go to the Gubbings, if I do not choose."
Amyas uttered sotto voce an anathema on Jesuits, Gubbings, and things ingeneral. He was in a great hurry to get to Bideford, and he feared thatthis business would delay him, as it was, a day or two. He wanted tohang Parsons, he did not want to hang Eustace; and Eustace, he knew,was well aware of that latter fact, and played his game accordingly; buttime ran on, and he had to answer sulkily enough:
"Well then; if you, Eustace, will go and give my message to yourconverts, I will promise to set Mr. Parsons free again before we come toLydford town; and I advise you, if you have any regard for his life,to see that your eloquence be persuasive enough; for as sure as I aman Englishman, and he none, if the Gubbings attack us, the firstbullet that I shall fire at them will have gone through his scoundrellybrains."
Parsons still kicked.
"Very well, then, my merry men all. Tie this gentleman's hands behindhis back, get the horses out, and we'll right away up into Dartmoor,find a good high tor, stand our ground there till morning, and thencarry him into Okehampton to the nearest justice. If he chooses to delayme in my journey, it is fair that I should make him pay for it."
Whereon Parsons gave in, and being fast tied by his arm to Amyas'ssaddle, trudged alongside his horse for several weary miles, while Yeowalked by his side, like a friar by a condemned criminal; and in orderto keep up his spirits, told him the woful end of Nicholas Saunders theLegate, and how he was found starved to death in a bog.
"And if you wish, sir, to follow in his blessed steps, which I heartilyhope you will do, you have only to go over that big cow-backed hillthere on your right hand, and down again the other side to Crawmerepool, and there you'll find as pretty a bog to die in as ever Jesuitneeded; and your ghost may sit there on a grass tummock, and tell yourbeads without any one asking for you till the day of judgment; and muchgood may it do you!"
At which imagination Yeo was actually heard, for the first and last timein this history, to laugh most heartily.
His ho-ho's had scarcely died away when they saw shining under the moonthe old tower of Lydford castle.
"Cast the fellow off now," said Amyas.
"Ay, ay, sir!" and Yeo and Simon Evans stopped behind, and did not comeup for ten minutes after.
"What have you been about so long?"
"Why, sir," said Evans, "you see the man had a very fair pair of hoseon, and a bran-new kersey doublet, very warm-lined; and so, thinking ita pity good clothes should be wasted on such noxious trade, we've justbrought them along with us."
"Spoiling the Egyptians," said Yeo as comment.
"And what have you done with the man?"
"Hove him over the bank, sir; he pitched into a big furze-bush, and foraught I know, there he'll bide."
"You rascal, have you killed him?
"Never fear, sir," said Yeo, in his cool fashion. "A Jesuit has as manylives as a cat, and, I believe, rides broomsticks post, like a witch. Hewould be at Lydford now before us, if his master Satan had any businessfor him there."
Leaving on their left Lydford and its ill-omened castle (which, acentury after, was one of the principal scenes of Judge Jeffreys'scruelty), Amyas and his party trudged on through the mire towardOkehampton till sunrise; and ere the vapors had lifted from the mountaintops, they were descending the long slopes from Sourton down, whileYestor and Amicombe slept steep and black beneath their misty pall; androaring far below unseen,
"Ockment leapt from crag and cloud Down her cataracts, laughing loud."
The voice of the stream recalled these words to Amyas's mind. The nymphof Torridge had spoken them upon the day of his triumph. He recollected,too, his vexation on that day at not seeing Rose Salterne. Why, he hadnever seen her since. Never seen her now for six years and more! Of herripened beauty he knew only by hearsay; she was still to him the lovelyfifteen years' girl for whose sake he had smitten the Barnstaple draperover the quay. What a chain of petty accidents had kept them frommeeting, though so often within a mile of each other! "And what a luckyone!" said practical old Amyas to himself. "If I had seen her as she isnow, I might have loved her as Frank does--poor Frank! what will hesay? What does he say, for he must know it already? And what ought I tosay--to do rather, for talking is no use on this side the grave, nor onthe other either, I expect!" And then he asked himself whether his oldoath meant nothing or something; whether it was a mere tavern frolic, ora sacred duty. And he held, the more that he looked at it, that it meantthe latter.
But what could he do? He had nothing on earth but his sword, so he couldnot travel to find her. After all, she might not be
gone far. Perhapsnot gone at all. It might be a mistake, an exaggerated scandal. Hewould hope so. And yet it was evident that there had been some passagesbetween her and Don Guzman. Eustace's mysterious words about the promiseat Lundy proved that. The villain! He had felt all along that he was avillain; but just the one to win a woman's heart, too. Frank had beenaway--all the Brotherhood away. What a fool he had been, to turn thewolf loose into the sheepfold! And yet who would have dreamed ofit? . . .
"At all events," said Amyas, trying to comfort himself, "I need notcomplain. I have lost nothing. I stood no more chance of her againstFrank than I should have stood against the Don. So there is no use forme to cry about the matter." And he tried to hum a tune concerning thegeneral frailty of women, but nevertheless, like Sir Hugh, felt that "hehad a great disposition to cry."
He never had expected to win her, and yet it seemed bitter to know thatshe was lost to him forever. It was not so easy for a heart of his maketo toss away the image of a first love; and all the less easy becausethat image was stained and ruined.
"Curses on the man who had done that deed! I will yet have his heart'sblood somehow, if I go round the world again to find him. If there's nolaw for it on earth, there's law in heaven, or I'm much mistaken."
With which determination he rode into the ugly, dirty, and stupid townof Okehampton, with which fallen man (by some strange perversity) haschosen to defile one of the loveliest sites in the pleasant land ofDevon. And heartily did Amyas abuse the old town that day; for he wasdetained there, as he expected, full three hours, while the JusticeShallow of the place was sent for from his farm (whither he had goneat sunrise, after the early-rising fashion of those days) to take Yeo'sdeposition concerning last night's affray. Moreover, when Shallow came,he refused to take the depositions, because they ought to have been madebefore a brother Shallow at Lydford; and in the wrangling which ensued,was very near finding out what Amyas (fearing fresh loss of time andworse evils beside) had commanded to be concealed, namely, the presenceof Jesuits in that Moorland Utopia. Then, in broadest Devon--
"And do you call this Christian conduct, sir, to set a quiet man like meupon they Gubbings, as if I was going to risk my precious life--no, norever a constable to Okehampton neither? Let Lydfor' men mind Lydfor'roogs, and by Lydfor' law if they will, hang first and try after; butas for me, I've rade my Bible, and 'He that meddleth with strife is likehim that taketh a dog by the ears.' So if you choose to sit down and ateyour breakfast with me, well and good: but depositions I'll have none.If your man is enquired for, you'll be answerable for his appearing, incourse; but I expect mortally" (with a wink), "you wain't hear much moreof the matter from any hand. 'Leave well alone is a good rule, but leaveill alone is a better.'--So we says round about here; and so you'll say,captain, when you be so old as I."
So Amyas sat down and ate his breakfast, and went on afterwards a longand weary day's journey, till he saw at last beneath him the broadshining river, and the long bridge, and the white houses piled up thehill-side; and beyond, over Raleigh downs, the dear old tower of NorthamChurch.
Alas! Northam was altogether a desert to him then; and Bideford, as itturned out, hardly less so. For when he rode up to Sir Richard's door,he found that the good knight was still in Ireland, and Lady Grenvilleat Stow. Whereupon he rode back again down the High Street to that samebow-windowed Ship Tavern where the Brotherhood of the Rose made theirvow, and settled himself in the very room where they had supped.
"Ah! Mr. Leigh--Captain Leigh now, I beg pardon," quoth mine host."Bideford is an empty place now-a-days, and nothing stirring, sir. Whatwith Sir Richard to Ireland, and Sir John to London, and all the younggentlemen to the wars, there's no one to buy good liquor, and no one tocourt the young ladies, neither. Sack, sir? I hope so. I haven't breweda gallon of it this fortnight, if you'll believe me; ale, sir, and aquavitae, and such low-bred trade, is all I draw now-a-days. Try a pint ofsherry, sir, now, to give you an appetite. You mind my sherry of old?Jane! Sherry and sugar, quick, while I pull off the captain's boots."
Amyas sat weary and sad, while the innkeeper chattered on.
"Ah, sir! two or three like you would set the young ladies all aliveagain. By-the-by, there's been strange doings among them since you werehere last. You mind Mistress Salterne!"
"For God's sake, don't let us have that story, man! I heard enough of itat Plymouth!" said Amyas, in so disturbed a tone that mine host lookedup, and said to himself--
"Ah, poor young gentleman, he's one of the hard-hit ones."
"How is the old man?" asked Amyas, after a pause.
"Bears it well enough, sir; but a changed man. Never speaks to a soul,if he can help it. Some folk say he's not right in his head; or turnedmiser, or somewhat, and takes naught but bread and water, and sits upall night in the room as was hers, turning over her garments. Heavenknows what's on his mind--they do say he was over hard on her, and thatdrove her to it. All I know is, he has never been in here for a dropof liquor (and he came as regular every evening as the town clock, sir)since she went, except a ten days ago, and then he met young Mr. Cary atthe door, and I heard him ask Mr. Cary when you would be home, sir."
"Put on my boots again. I'll go and see him."
"Bless you, sir! What, without your sack?"
"Drink it yourself, man."
"But you wouldn't go out again this time o' night on an empty stomach,now?"
"Fill my men's stomachs for them, and never mind mine. It's market-day,is it not? Send out, and see whether Mr. Cary is still in town;" andAmyas strode out, and along the quay to Bridgeland Street, and knockedat Mr. Salterne's door.
Salterne himself opened it, with his usual stern courtesy.
"I saw you coming up the street, sir. I have been expecting this honorfrom you for some time past. I dreamt of you only last night, and manya night before that too. Welcome, sir, into a lonely house. I trust thegood knight your general is well."
"The good knight my general is with God who made him, Mr. Salterne."
"Dead, sir?"
"Foundered at sea on our way home; and the Delight lost too."
"Humph!" growled Salterne, after a minute's silence. "I had a venture inher. I suppose it's gone. No matter--I can afford it, sir, and more,I trust. And he was three years younger than I! And Draper Heard wasburied yesterday, five years younger.--How is it that every one can die,except me? Come in, sir, come in; I have forgotten my manners."
And he led Amyas into his parlor, and called to the apprentices to runone way, and to the cook to run another.
"You must not trouble yourself to get me supper, indeed."
"I must though, sir, and the best of wine too; and old Salterne had agood tap of Alicant in old time, old time, old time, sir! and you mustdrink it now, whether he does or not!" and out he bustled.
Amyas sat still, wondering what was coming next, and puzzled at thesudden hilarity of the man, as well as his hospitality, so differentfrom what the innkeeper had led him to expect.
In a minute more one of the apprentices came in to lay the cloth, andAmyas questioned him about his master.
"Thank the Lord that you are come, sir," said the lad.
"Why, then?"
"Because there'll be a chance of us poor fellows getting a little brokenmeat. We'm half-starved this three months--bread and dripping, bread anddripping, oh dear, sir! And now he's sent out to the inn for chickens,and game, and salads, and all that money can buy, and down in the cellarhaling out the best of wine."--And the lad smacked his lips audibly atthe thought.
"Is he out of his mind?"
"I can't tell; he saith as how he must save mun's money now-a-days; forhe've a got a great venture on hand: but what a be he tell'th no man.They call'th mun 'bread and dripping' now, sir, all town over," said theprentice, confidentially, to Amyas.
"They do, do they, sirrah! Then they will call me bread and no drippingto-morrow!" and old Salterne, entering from behind, made a dash at thepoor fellow's ears: but luckily thought better of it, having a c
ouple ofbottles in each hand.
"My dear sir," said Amyas, "you don't mean us to drink all that wine?"
"Why not, sir?" answered Salterne, in a grim, half-sneering tone,thrusting out his square-grizzled beard and chin. "Why not, sir? whyshould I not make merry when I have the honor of a noble captain in myhouse? one who has sailed the seas, sir, and cut Spaniards' throats; andmay cut them again too; eh, sir? Boy, where's the kettle and the sugar?"
"What on earth is the man at?" quoth Amyas to himself--"flattering me,or laughing at me?"
"Yes," he ran on, half to himself, in a deliberate tone, evidentlyintending to hint more than he said, as he began brewing the sack--inplain English, hot negus; "Yes, bread and dripping for those who can'tfight Spaniards; but the best that money can buy for those who can. Iheard of you at Smerwick, sir--Yes, bread and dripping for me too--Ican't fight Spaniards: but for such as you. Look here, sir; I shouldlike to feed a crew of such up, as you'd feed a main of fighting-cocks,and then start them with a pair of Sheffield spurs a-piece--you've agood one there to your side, sir: but don't you think a man might carrytwo now, and fight as they say those Chineses do, a sword to each hand?You could kill more that way, Captain Leigh, I reckon?"
Amyas half laughed.
"One will do, Mr. Salterne, if one is quick enough with it."
"Humph!--Ah--No use being in a hurry. I haven't been in a hurry. No--Iwaited for you; and here you are and welcome, sir! Here comes supper, alight matter, sir, you see. A capon and a brace of partridges. I had notime to feast you as you deserve."
And so he ran on all supper-time, hardly allowing Amyas to get a wordin edge-ways; but heaping him with coarse flattery, and urging him todrink, till after the cloth was drawn, and the two left alone, he grewso outrageous that Amyas was forced to take him to task good-humoredly.
"Now, my dear sir, you have feasted me royally, and better far than Ideserve, but why will you go about to make me drunk twice over, firstwith vainglory and then with wine?"
Salterne looked at him a while fixedly, and then, sticking out hischin--"Because, Captain Leigh, I am a man who has all his life tried thecrooked road first, and found the straight one the safer after all."
"Eh, sir? That is a strange speech for one who bears the character ofthe most upright man in Bideford."
"Humph. So I thought myself once, sir; and well I have proved it. ButI'll be plain with you, sir. You've heard how--how I've fared since yousaw me last?"
Amyas nodded his head.
"I thought so. Shame rides post. Now then, Captain Leigh, listen to me.I, being a plain man and a burgher, and one that never drew iron in mylife except to mend a pen, ask you, being a gentleman and a captainand a man of honor, with a weapon to your side, and harness to yourback--what would you do in my place?"
"Humph!" said Amyas, "that would very much depend on whether 'my place'was my own fault or not."
"And what if it were, sir? What if all that the charitable folks ofBideford--(Heaven reward them for their tender mercies!)--have beentelling you in the last hour be true, sir,--true! and yet not half thetruth?"
Amyas gave a start.
"Ah, you shrink from me! Of course a man is too righteous to forgivethose who repent, though God is not."
"God knows, sir--"
"Yes, sir, God does know--all; and you shall know a little--as much as Ican tell--or you understand. Come upstairs with me, sir, as you'll drinkno more; I have a liking for you. I have watched you from your boyhood,and I can trust you, and I'll show you what I never showed to mortal manbut one."
And, taking up a candle, he led the way upstairs, while Amyas followedwondering.
He stopped at a door, and unlocked it.
"There, come in. Those shutters have not been opened since she--" andthe old man was silent.
Amyas looked round the room. It was a low wainscoted room, such as onesees in old houses: everything was in the most perfect neatness.The snow-white sheets on the bed were turned down as if ready for anoccupant. There were books arranged on the shelves, fresh flowers on thetable; the dressing-table had all its woman's mundus of pins, and rings,and brushes; even the dressing-gown lay over the chair-back. Everythingwas evidently just as it had been left.
"This was her room, sir," whispered the old man.
Amyas nodded silently, and half drew back.
"You need not be modest about entering it now, sir," whispered he, witha sort of sneer. "There has been no frail flesh and blood in it for manya day."
Amyas sighed.
"I sweep it out myself every morning, and keep all tidy. See here!"and he pulled open a drawer. "Here are all her gowns, and there are herhoods; and there--I know 'em all by heart now, and the place of everyone. And there, sir--"
And he opened a cupboard, where lay in rows all Rose's dolls, and theworn-out playthings of her childhood.
"That's the pleasantest place of all in the room to me," said he,whispering still, "for it minds me of when--and maybe, she may become alittle child once more, sir; it's written in the Scripture, you know--"
"Amen!" said Amyas, who felt, to his own wonder, a big tear stealingdown each cheek.
"And now," he whispered, "one thing more. Look here!"--and pulling out akey, he unlocked a chest, and lifted up tray after tray of necklacesand jewels, furs, lawns, cloth of gold. "Look there! Two thousand poundwon't buy that chest. Twenty years have I been getting those thingstogether. That's the cream of many a Levant voyage, and East Indianvoyage, and West Indian voyage. My Lady Bath can't match those pearls inher grand house at Tawstock; I got 'em from a Genoese, though, and paidfor 'em. Look at that embroidered lawn! There's not such a piece inLondon; no, nor in Alexandria, I'll warrant; nor short of Calicut, whereit came from. . . . Look here again, there's a golden cup! I bought thatof one that was out with Pizarro in Peru. And look here, again!"--andthe old man gloated over the treasure.
"And whom do you think I kept all these for? These were for herwedding-day--for her wedding-day. For your wedding-day, if you'd beenminded, sir! Yes, yours, sir! And yet, I believe, I was so ambitiousthat I would not have let her marry under an earl, all the while I waspretending to be too proud to throw her at the head of a squire's son.Ah, well! There was my idol, sir. I made her mad, I pampered her up withgewgaws and vanity; and then, because my idol was just what I had madeher, I turned again and rent her.
"And now," said he, pointing to the open chest, "that was what I meant;and that" (pointing to the empty bed) "was what God meant. Never mind.Come downstairs and finish your wine. I see you don't care about it all.Why should you! you are not her father, and you may thank God you arenot. Go, and be merry while you can, young sir! . . . And yet, all thismight have been yours. And--but I don't suppose you are one to be wonby money--but all this may be yours still, and twenty thousand pounds toboot."
"I want no money, sir, but what I can earn with my own sword."
"Earn my money, then!"
"What on earth do you want of me!"
"To keep your oath," said Salterne, clutching his arm, and looking upinto his face with searching eyes.
"My oath! How did you know that I had one?"
"Ah! you were well ashamed of it, I suppose, next day! A drunken frolicall about a poor merchant's daughter! But there is nothing hidden thatshall not be revealed, nor done in the closet that is not proclaimed onthe house-tops."
"Ashamed of it, sir, I never was: but I have a right to ask how you cameto know it?"
"What if a poor fat squinny rogue, a low-born fellow even as I am,whom you had baffled and made a laughing-stock, had come to me in myloneliness and sworn before God that if you honorable gentlemen wouldnot keep your words, he the clown would?"
"John Brimblecombe?"
"And what if I had brought him where I have brought you, and shownhim what I have shown you, and, instead of standing as stiff as anySpaniard, as you do, he had thrown himself on his knees by that bedside,and wept and prayed, sir, till he opened my hard heart for the firstand last time, and I f
ell down on my sinful knees and wept and prayed byhim?"
"I am not given to weeping, Mr. Salterne," said Amyas; "and as forpraying, I don't know yet what I have to pray for, on her account: mybusiness is to work. Show me what I can do; and when you have done that,it will be full time to upbraid me with not doing it."
"You can cut that fellow's throat."
"It will take a long arm to reach him."
"I suppose it is as easy to sail to the Spanish Main as it was to sailround the world."
"My good sir," said Amyas, "I have at this moment no more worldly goodsthan my clothes and my sword, so how to sail to the Spanish Main, Idon't quite see."
"And do you suppose, sir, that I should hint to you of such a voyage ifI meant you to be at the charge of it? No, sir; if you want two thousandpounds, or five, to fit a ship, take it! Take it, sir! I hoarded moneyfor my child: and now I will spend it to avenge her."
Amyas was silent for a while; the old man still held his arm, stilllooked up steadfastly and fiercely in his face.
"Bring me home that man's head, and take ship, prizes--all! Keep thegain, sir, and give me the revenge!"
"Gain? Do you think I need bribing, sir? What kept me silent was thethought of my mother. I dare not go without her leave."
Salterne made a gesture of impatience.
"I dare not, sir; I must obey my parent, whatever else I do."
"Humph!" said he. "If others had obeyed theirs as well!--But you areright, Captain Leigh, right. You will prosper, whoever else does not.Now, sir, good-night, if you will let me be the first to say so. My oldeyes grow heavy early now-a-days. Perhaps it's old age, perhaps it'ssorrow."
So Amyas departed to the inn, and there, to his great joy, found Carywaiting for him, from whom he learnt details, which must be kept foranother chapter, and which I shall tell, for convenience' sake, in myown words and not in his.