CHAPTER V
CLOVELLY COURT IN THE OLDEN TIME
"It was among the ways of good Queen Bess, Who ruled as well as ever mortal can, sir, When she was stogg'd, and the country in a mess, She was wont to send for a Devon man, sir."
West Country Song.
The next morning Amyas Leigh was not to be found. Not that he had goneout to drown himself in despair, or even to bemoan himself "down by theTorridge side." He had simply ridden off, Frank found, to Sir RichardGrenville at Stow: his mother at once divined the truth, that he wasgone to try for a post in the Irish army, and sent off Frank after himto bring him home again, and make him at least reconsider himself.
So Frank took horse and rode thereon ten miles or more: and then, asthere were no inns on the road in those days, or indeed in these, andhe had some ten miles more of hilly road before him, he turned downthe hill towards Clovelly Court, to obtain, after the hospitable humanefashion of those days, good entertainment for man and horse from Mr.Cary the squire.
And when he walked self-invited, like the loud-shouting Menelaus, intothe long dark wainscoted hall of the court, the first object he beheldwas the mighty form of Amyas, who, seated at the long table, wasalternately burying his face in a pasty, and the pasty in his face, hissorrows having, as it seemed, only sharpened his appetite, while youngWill Cary, kneeling on the opposite bench, with his elbows on the table,was in that graceful attitude laying down the law fiercely to him in alow voice.
"Hillo! lad," cried Amyas; "come hither and deliver me out of the handsof this fire-eater, who I verily believe will kill me, if I do not lethim kill some one else."
"Ah! Mr. Frank," said Will Cary, who, like all other young gentlemen ofthese parts, held Frank in high honor, and considered him a very oracleand cynosure of fashion and chivalry, "welcome here: I was just longingfor you, too; I wanted your advice on half-a-dozen matters. Sit down,and eat. There is the ale."
"None so early, thank you."
"Ah no!" said Amyas, burying his head in the tankard, and then mimickingFrank, "avoid strong ale o' mornings. It heats the blood, thickensthe animal spirits, and obfuscates the cerebrum with frenetical andlymphatic idols, which cloud the quintessential light of the purereason. Eh? young Plato, young Daniel, come hither to judgment! And yet,though I cannot see through the bottom of the tankard already, I can seeplain enough still to see this, that Will shall not fight."
"Shall I not, eh? who says that? Mr. Frank, I appeal to you, now; onlyhear."
"We are in the judgment-seat," said Frank, settling to the pasty."Proceed, appellant."
"Well, I was telling Amyas, that Tom Coffin, of Portledge; I will standhim no longer."
"Let him be, then," said Amyas; "he could stand very well by himself,when I saw him last."
"Plague on you, hold your tongue. Has he any right to look at me as hedoes, whenever I pass him?"
"That depends on how he looks; a cat may look at a king, provided shedon't take him for a mouse."
"Oh, I know how he looks, and what he means too, and he shall stop, or Iwill stop him. And the other day, when I spoke of Rose Salterne"--"Ah!"groaned Frank, "Ate's apple again!"--"(never mind what I said) he burstout laughing in my face; and is not that a fair quarrel? And what ismore, I know that he wrote a sonnet, and sent it to her to Stow by amarket woman. What right has he to write sonnets when I can't? It's notfair play, Mr. Frank, or I am a Jew, and a Spaniard, and a Papist; it'snot!" And Will smote the table till the plates danced again.
"My dear knight of the burning pestle, I have a plan, a device, adisentanglement, according to most approved rules of chivalry. Let usfix a day, and summon by tuck of drum all young gentlemen under theage of thirty, dwelling within fifteen miles of the habitation of thatpeerless Oriana."
"And all 'prentice-boys too," cried Amyas, out of the pasty.
"And all 'prentice-boys. The bold lads shall fight first, with goodquarterstaves, in Bideford Market, till all heads are broken; and thehead which is not broken, let the back belonging to it pay the penaltyof the noble member's cowardice. After which grand tournament, to whichthat of Tottenham shall be but a flea-bite and a batrachomyomachy--"
"Confound you, and your long words, sir," said poor Will, "I know youare flouting me."
"Pazienza, Signor Cavaliere; that which is to come is no flouting, butbloody and warlike earnest. For afterwards all the young gentlemenshall adjourn into a convenient field, sand, or bog--which last will bebetter, as no man will be able to run away, if he be up to his kneesin soft peat: and there stripping to our shirts, with rapiers of equallength and keenest temper, each shall slay his man, catch who catch can,and the conquerors fight again, like a most valiant main of gamecocksas we are, till all be dead, and out of their woes; after which thesurvivor, bewailing before heaven and earth the cruelty of our FairOriana, and the slaughter which her basiliscine eyes have caused, shallfall gracefully upon his sword, and so end the woes of this our lovelorngeneration. Placetne Domini? as they used to ask in the Senate atOxford."
"Really," said Cary, "this is too bad."
"So is, pardon me, your fighting Mr. Coffin with anything longer than abodkin."
"Bodkins are too short for such fierce Bobadils," said Amyas; "theywould close in so near, that we should have them falling to fisticuffsafter the first bout."
"Then let them fight with squirts across the market-place; for by heavenand the queen's laws, they shall fight with nothing else."
"My dear Mr. Cary," went on Frank, suddenly changing his bantering toneto one of the most winning sweetness, "do not fancy that I cannot feelfor you, or that I, as well as you, have not known the stings of loveand the bitterer stings of jealousy. But oh, Mr. Cary, does it not seemto you an awful thing to waste selfishly upon your own quarrel thatdivine wrath which, as Plato says, is the very root of all virtues, andwhich has been given you, like all else which you have, that you mayspend it in the service of her whom all bad souls fear, and all virtuoussouls adore,--our peerless queen? Who dares, while she rules England,call his sword or his courage his own, or any one's but hers? Are thereno Spaniards to conquer, no wild Irish to deliver from their oppressors,that two gentlemen of Devon can find no better place to flesh theirblades than in each other's valiant and honorable hearts?"
"By heaven!" cried Amyas, "Frank speaks like a book; and for me, I dothink that Christian gentlemen may leave love quarrels to bulls andrams."
"And that the heir of Clovelly," said Frank, smiling, "may find morenoble examples to copy than the stags in his own deer-park."
"Well," said Will, penitently, "you are a great scholar, Mr. Frank, andyou speak like one; but gentlemen must fight sometimes, or where wouldbe their honor?"
"I speak," said Frank, a little proudly, "not merely as a scholar,but as a gentleman, and one who has fought ere now, and to whom it hashappened, Mr. Cary, to kill his man (on whose soul may God have mercy);but it is my pride to remember that I have never yet fought in my ownquarrel, and my trust in God that I never shall. For as there is nothingmore noble and blessed than to fight in behalf of those whom we love,so to fight in our own private behalf is a thing not to be allowed to aChristian man, unless refusal imports utter loss of life or honor;and even then, it may be (though I would not lay a burden on any man'sconscience), it is better not to resist evil, but to overcome it withgood."
"And I can tell you, Will," said Amyas, "I am not troubled with fear ofghosts; but when I cut off the Frenchman's head, I said to myself, 'Ifthat braggart had been slandering me instead of her gracious majesty, Ishould expect to see that head lying on my pillow every time I went tobed at night.'"
"God forbid!" said Will, with a shudder. "But what shall I do? for tothe market tomorrow I will go, if it were choke-full of Coffins, and aghost in each coffin of the lot."
"Leave the matter to me," said Amyas. "I have my device, as well asscholar Frank here; and if there be, as I suppose there must be, aquar
rel in the market to-morrow, see if I do not--"
"Well, you are two good fellows," said Will. "Let us have anothertankard in."
"And drink the health of Mr. Coffin, and all gallant lads of the North,"said Frank; "and now to my business. I have to take this runaway youthhere home to his mother; and if he will not go quietly, I have orders tocarry him across my saddle."
"I hope your nag has a strong back, then," said Amyas; "but I must go onand see Sir Richard, Frank. It is all very well to jest as we have beendoing, but my mind is made up."
"Stop," said Cary. "You must stay here tonight; first, for goodfellowship's sake; and next, because I want the advice of our Phoenixhere, our oracle, our paragon. There, Mr. Frank, can you construe thatfor me? Speak low, though, gentlemen both; there comes my father; youhad better give me the letter again. Well, father, whence this morning?"
"Eh, company here? Young men, you are always welcome, and such as you.Would there were more of your sort in these dirty times! How is yourgood mother, Frank, eh? Where have I been, Will? Round the house-farm,to look at the beeves. That sheeted heifer of Prowse's is all wrong;her coat stares like a hedgepig's. Tell Jewell to go up and bring her inbefore night. And then up the forty acres; sprang two coveys, and pickeda leash out of them. The Irish hawk flies as wild as any haggard still,and will never make a bird. I had to hand her to Tom, and take thelittle peregrine. Give me a Clovelly hawk against the world, afterall; and--heigh ho, I am very hungry! Half-past twelve, and dinner notserved? What, Master Amyas, spoiling your appetite with strong ale?Better have tried sack, lad; have some now with me."
And the worthy old gentleman, having finished his oration, settledhimself on a great bench inside the chimney, and put his hawk on a perchover his head, while his cockers coiled themselves up close to the warmpeat-ashes, and his son set to work to pull off his father's boots, amidsundry warnings to take care of his corns.
"Come, Master Amyas, a pint of white wine and sugar, and a bit of ashoeing-horn to it ere we dine. Some pickled prawns, now, or a rasheroff the coals, to whet you?"
"Thank you," quoth Amyas; "but I have drunk a mort of outlandishliquors, better and worse, in the last three years, and yet never foundaught to come up to good ale, which needs neither shoeing-horn beforenor after, but takes care of itself, and of all honest stomachs too, Ithink."
"You speak like a book, boy," said old Cary; "and after all, what aplague comes of these newfangled hot wines, and aqua vitaes, which havecome in since the wars, but maddening of the brains, and fever of theblood?"
"I fear we have not seen the end of that yet," said Frank. "My friendswrite me from the Netherlands that our men are falling into a swinishtrick of swilling like the Hollanders. Heaven grant that they may notbring home the fashion with them."
"A man must drink, they say, or die of the ague, in those vile swamps,"said Amyas. "When they get home here, they will not need it."
"Heaven grant it," said Frank; "I should be sorry to see Devonshirea drunken county; and there are many of our men out there with Mr.Champernoun."
"Ah," said Cary, "there, as in Ireland, we are proving her majesty'ssaying true, that Devonshire is her right hand, and the young childrenthereof like the arrows in the hand of the giant."
"They may well be," said his son, "when some of them are giantsthemselves, like my tall school-fellow opposite."
"He will be up and doing again presently, I'll warrant him," said oldCary.
"And that I shall," quoth Amyas. "I have been devising brave deeds;and see in the distance enchanters to be bound, dragons choked, empiresconquered, though not in Holland."
"You do?" asked Will, a little sharply; for he had had a half suspicionthat more was meant than met the ear.
"Yes," said Amyas, turning off his jest again, "I go to what Raleighcalls the Land of the Nymphs. Another month, I hope, will see me abroadin Ireland."
"Abroad? Call it rather at home," said old Cary; "for it is full ofDevon men from end to end, and you will be among friends all day long.George Bourchier from Tawstock has the army now in Munster, and WarhamSt. Leger is marshal; George Carew is with Lord Grey of Wilton (PoorPeter Carew was killed at Glendalough); and after the defeat last year,when that villain Desmond cut off Herbert and Price, the companies weremade up with six hundred Devon men, and Arthur Fortescue at their head;so that the old county holds her head as proudly in the Land of Ire asshe does in the Low Countries and the Spanish Main."
"And where," asked Amyas, "is Davils of Marsland, who used to teach mehow to catch trout, when I was staying down at Stow? He is in Ireland,too, is he not?"
"Ah, my lad," said Mr. Cary, "that is a sad story. I thought all Englandhad known it."
"You forget, sir, I am a stranger. Surely he is not dead?"
"Murdered foully, lad! Murdered like a dog, and by the man whom he hadtreated as his son, and who pretended, the false knave! to call himfather."
"His blood is avenged?" said Amyas, fiercely.
"No, by heaven, not yet! Stay, don't cry out again. I am gettingold--I must tell my story my own way. It was last July,--was it not,Will?--Over comes to Ireland Saunders, one of those Jesuit foxes, as thePope's legate, with money and bulls, and a banner hallowed by the Pope,and the devil knows what beside; and with him James Fitzmaurice, thesame fellow who had sworn on his knees to Perrott, in the church atKilmallock, to be a true liegeman to Queen Elizabeth, and confirmed itby all his saints, and such a world of his Irish howling, that Perrotttold me he was fain to stop his own ears. Well, he had been practisingwith the King of France, but got nothing but laughter for his pains, andso went over to the Most Catholic King, and promises him to join Irelandto Spain, and set up Popery again, and what not. And he, I suppose,thinking it better that Ireland should belong to him than to the Pope'sbastard, fits him out, and sends him off on such another errand asStukely's,--though I will say, for the honor of Devon, if Stukely livedlike a fool, he died like an honest man."
"Sir Thomas Stukely dead too?" said Amyas.
"Wait a while, lad, and you shall have that tragedy afterwards. Well,where was I? Oh, Fitzmaurice and the Jesuits land at Smerwick, withthree ships, choose a place for a fort, bless it with their holy water,and their moppings and their scourings, and the rest of it, to purifyit from the stain of heretic dominion; but in the meanwhile one ofthe Courtenays,--a Courtenay of Haccombe, was it?--or a Courtenay ofBoconnock? Silence, Will, I shall have it in a minute--yes, a Courtenayof Haccombe it was, lying at anchor near by, in a ship of war of his,cuts out the three ships, and cuts off the Dons from the sea. John andJames Desmond, with some small rabble, go over to the Spaniards. EarlDesmond will not join them, but will not fight them, and stands by totake the winning side; and then in comes poor Davils, sent down by theLord Deputy to charge Desmond and his brothers, in the queen's name, toassault the Spaniards. Folks say it was rash of his lordship: but Isay, what could be better done? Every one knows that there never was astouter or shrewder soldier than Davils; and the young Desmonds, I haveheard him say many a time, used to look on him as their father. Buthe found out what it was to trust Englishmen turned Irish. Well,the Desmonds found out on a sudden that the Dons were such desperatePaladins, that it was madness to meddle, though they were five to one;and poor Davils, seeing that there was no fight in them, goes back forhelp, and sleeps that night at some place called Tralee. Arthur Carterof Bideford, St. Leger's lieutenant, as stout an old soldier as Davilshimself, sleeps in the same bed with him; the lacquey-boy, who is nowwith Sir Richard at Stow, on the floor at their feet. But in the dead ofnight, who should come in but James Desmond, sword in hand, with a dozenof his ruffians at his heels, each with his glib over his ugly face,and his skene in his hand. Davils springs up in bed, and asks but this,'What is the matter, my son?' whereon the treacherous villain, withoutgiving him time to say a prayer, strikes at him, naked as he was,crying, 'Thou shalt be my father no longer, nor I thy son! Thou shaltdie!' and at that all the rest fall on him. The poor little lad (so hesays) leaps up to cover
his master with his naked body, gets three orfour stabs of skenes, and so falls for dead; with his master and CaptainCarter, who were dead indeed--God reward them! After that the ruffiansransacked the house, till they had murdered every Englishman in it, thelacquey-boy only excepted, who crawled out, wounded as he was, througha window; while Desmond, if you will believe it, went back, up to hiselbows in blood, and vaunted his deeds to the Spaniards, and askedthem--'There! Will you take that as a pledge that I am faithful to you?'And that, my lad, was the end of Henry Davils, and will be of all whotrust to the faith of wild savages."
"I would go a hundred miles to see that Desmond hanged!" said Amyas,while great tears ran down his face. "Poor Mr. Davils! And now, what isthe story of Sir Thomas?"
"Your brother must tell you that, lad; I am somewhat out of breath."
"And I have a right to tell it," said Frank, with a smile. "Do you knowthat I was very near being Earl of the bog of Allen, and one of thepeers of the realm to King Buoncompagna, son and heir to his holinessPope Gregory the Thirteenth?"
"No, surely!"
"As I am a gentleman. When I was at Rome I saw poor Stukely often; andthis and more he offered me on the part (as he said) of the Pope, if Iwould just oblige him in the two little matters of being reconciled tothe Catholic Church, and joining the invasion of Ireland."
"Poor deluded heretic," said Will Cary, "to have lost an earldom foryour family by such silly scruples of loyalty!"
"It is not a matter for jesting, after all," said Frank; "but I saw SirThomas often, and I cannot believe he was in his senses, so frantic washis vanity and his ambition; and all the while, in private matters ashonorable a gentleman as ever. However, he sailed at last for Ireland,with his eight hundred Spaniards and Italians; and what is more, Iknow that the King of Spain paid their charges. Marquis Vinola--JamesBuoncompagna, that is--stayed quietly at Rome, preferring that Stukelyshould conquer his paternal heritage of Ireland for him while he tookcare of the bona robas at home. I went down to Civita Vecchia to seehim off; and though his younger by many years, I could not but takethe liberty of entreating him, as a gentleman and a man of Devon, toconsider his faith to his queen and the honor of his country. There werehigh words between us; God forgive me if I spoke too fiercely, for Inever saw him again."
"Too fiercely to an open traitor, Frank? Why not have run him through?"
"Nay, I had no clean life for Sundays, Amyas; so I could not throw awaymy week-day one; and as for the weal of England, I knew that it waslittle he would damage it, and told him so. And at that he waxed utterlymad, for it touched his pride, and swore that if the wind had not beenfair for sailing, he would have fought me there and then; to which Icould only answer, that I was ready to meet him when he would; and heparted from me, saying, 'It is a pity, sir, I cannot fight you now; whennext we meet, it will be beneath my dignity to measure swords with you.'
"I suppose he expected to come back a prince at least--Heaven knows; Iowe him no ill-will, nor I hope does any man. He has paid all debts nowin full, and got his receipt for them."
"How did he die, then, after all?"
"On his voyage he touched in Portugal. King Sebastian was just sailingfor Africa with his new ally, Mohammed the Prince of Fez, to help KingAbdallah, and conquer what he could. He persuaded Stukely to go withhim. There were those who thought that he, as well as the Spaniards, hadno stomach for seeing the Pope's son King of Ireland. Others used tosay that he thought an island too small for his ambition, and must needsconquer a continent--I know not why it was, but he went. They had heavyweather in the passage; and when they landed, many of their soldierswere sea-sick. Stukely, reasonably enough, counselled that they shouldwait two or three days and recruit; but Don Sebastian was so mad for theassault that he must needs have his veni, vidi, vici; and so ended witha veni, vidi, perii; for he Abdallah, and his son Mohammed, all perishedin the first battle at Alcasar; and Stukely, surrounded and overpowered,fought till he could fight no more, and then died like a hero with allhis wounds in front; and may God have mercy on his soul!"
"Ah!" said Amyas, "we heard of that battle off Lima, but nothing aboutpoor Stukely."
"That last was a Popish prayer, Master Frank," said old Mr. Cary.
"Most worshipful sir, you surely would not wish God not to have mercy onhis soul?"
"No--eh? Of course not: but that's all settled by now, for he is dead,poor fellow."
"Certainly, my dear sir. And you cannot help being a little fond of himstill."
"Eh? why, I should be a brute if I were not. He and I wereschoolfellows, though he was somewhat the younger; and many a goodthrashing have I given him, and one cannot help having a tenderness fora man after that. Beside, we used to hunt together in Exmoor, and haveroyal nights afterward into Ilfracombe, when we were a couple of madyoung blades. Fond of him? Why, I would have sooner given my forefingerthan that he should have gone to the dogs thus."
"Then, my dear sir, if you feel for him still, in spite of all hisfaults, how do you know that God may not feel for him still, in spite ofall his faults? For my part," quoth Frank, in his fanciful way, "withoutbelieving in that Popish Purgatory, I cannot help holding with Plato,that such heroical souls, who have wanted but little of true greatness,are hereafter by some strait discipline brought to a better mind;perhaps, as many ancients have held with the Indian Gymnosophists, bytransmigration into the bodies of those animals whom they have resembledin their passions; and indeed, if Sir Thomas Stukely's soul should nowanimate the body of a lion, all I can say is that he would be a veryvaliant and royal lion; and also doubtless become in due time heartilyashamed and penitent for having been nothing better than a lion."
"What now, Master Frank? I don't trouble my head with such matters--Isay Stukely was a right good-hearted fellow at bottom; and if you plaguemy head with any of your dialectics, and propositions, and college quipsand quiddities, you sha'n't have any more sack, sir. But here come theknaves, and I hear the cook knock to dinner."
After a madrigal or two, and an Italian song of Master Frank's, allwhich went sweetly enough, the ladies rose, and went. Whereon Will Cary,drawing his chair close to Frank's, put quietly into his hand a dirtyletter.
"This was the letter left for me," whispered he, "by a country fellowthis morning. Look at it and tell me what I am to do."
Whereon Frank opened, and read--
"Mister Cary, be you wary By deer park end to-night. Yf Irish ffoxe com out of rocks Grip and hold hym tight."
"I would have showed it my father," said Will, "but--"
"I verily believe it to be a blind. See now, this is the handwriting ofa man who has been trying to write vilely, and yet cannot. Look atthat B, and that G; their formae formativae never were begotten in ahedge-school. And what is more, this is no Devon man's handiwork. We say'to' and not 'by,' Will, eh? in the West country?"
"Of course."
"And 'man,' instead of 'him'?"
"True, O Daniel! But am I to do nothing therefore?"
"On that matter I am no judge. Let us ask much-enduring Ulysses here;perhaps he has not sailed round the world without bringing home a deviceor two."
Whereon Amyas was called to counsel, as soon as Mr. Cary could bestopped in a long cross-examination of him as to Mr. Doughty's famoustrial and execution.
Amyas pondered awhile, thrusting his hands into his long curls; andthen--
"Will, my lad, have you been watching at the Deer Park End of late?"
"Never."
"Where, then?"
"At the town-beach."
"Where else?
"At the town-head."
"Where else?"
"Why, the fellow is turned lawyer! Above Freshwater."
"Where is Freshwater?"
"Why, where the water-fall comes over the cliff, half-a-mile from thetown. There is a path there up into the forest."
"I know. I'll watch there to-night. Do you keep all your old hauntssafe, of course, and send a couple of stout knaves to the mil
l, to watchthe beach at the Deer Park End, on the chance; for your poet may be atrue man, after all. But my heart's faith is, that this comes just todraw you off from some old beat of yours, upon a wild-goose chase. Ifthey shoot the miller by mistake, I suppose it don't much matter?"
"Marry, no."
"'When a miller's knock'd on the head, The less of flour makes the more of bread.'"
"Or, again," chimed in old Mr. Cary, "as they say in the North--
"'Find a miller that will not steal, Or a webster that is leal, Or a priest that is not greedy, And lay them three a dead corpse by; And by the virtue of them three, The said dead corpse shall quicken'd be.'"
"But why are you so ready to watch Freshwater to-night, Master Amyas?"
"Because, sir, those who come, if they come, will never land atMouthmill; if they are strangers, they dare not; and if they arebay's-men, they are too wise, as long as the westerly swell sets in. Asfor landing at the town, that would be too great a risk; but Freshwateris as lonely as the Bermudas; and they can beach a boat up under thecliff at all tides, and in all weathers, except north and nor'west. Ihave done it many a time, when I was a boy."
"And give us the fruit of your experience now in your old age, eh? Well,you have a gray head on green shoulders, my lad; and I verily believeyou are right. Who will you take with you to watch?"
"Sir," said Frank, "I will go with my brother; and that will be enough."
"Enough? He is big enough, and you brave enough, for ten; but still, themore the merrier."
"But the fewer, the better fare. If I might ask a first and last favor,worshipful sir," said Frank, very earnestly, "you would grant me twothings: that you would let none go to Freshwater but me and my brother;and that whatsoever we shall bring you back shall be kept as secret asthe commonweal and your loyalty shall permit. I trust that we are not sounknown to you, or to others, that you can doubt for a moment but thatwhatsoever we may do will satisfy at once your honor and our own."
"My dear young gentleman, there is no need of so many courtier's words.I am your father's friend, and yours. And God forbid that a Cary--for Iguess your drift--should ever wish to make a head or a heart ache; thatis, more than--"
"Those of whom it is written, 'Though thou bray a fool in a mortar, yetwill not his folly depart from him,'" interposed Frank, in so sad a tonethat no one at the table replied; and few more words were exchanged,till the two brothers were safe outside the house; and then--
"Amyas," said Frank, "that was a Devon man's handiwork, nevertheless; itwas Eustace's handwriting."
"Impossible!"
"No, lad. I have been secretary to a prince, and learnt to interpretcipher, and to watch every pen-stroke; and, young as I am, I think thatI am not easily deceived. Would God I were! Come on, lad; and strike noman hastily, lest thou cut off thine own flesh."
So forth the two went, along the park to the eastward, and past thehead of the little wood-embosomed fishing-town, a steep stair of housesclinging to the cliff far below them, the bright slate roofs and whitewalls glittering in the moonlight; and on some half-mile farther, alongthe steep hill-side, fenced with oak wood down to the water's edge, bya narrow forest path, to a point where two glens meet and pour theirstreamlets over a cascade some hundred feet in height into the seabelow. By the side of this waterfall a narrow path climbs upward fromthe beach; and here it was that the two brothers expected to meet themessenger.
Frank insisted on taking his station below Amyas. He said that he wascertain that Eustace himself would make his appearance, and that hewas more fit than Amyas to bring him to reason by parley; that if Amyaswould keep watch some twenty yards above, the escape of the messengerwould be impossible. Moreover, he was the elder brother, and the post ofhonor was his right. So Amyas obeyed him, after making him promise thatif more than one man came up the path, he would let them pass him beforehe challenged, so that both might bring them to bay at the same time.
So Amyas took his station under a high marl bank, and, bedded inluxuriant crown-ferns, kept his eye steadily on Frank, who sat down ona little knoll of rock (where is now a garden on the cliff-edge) whichparts the path and the dark chasm down which the stream rushes to itsfinal leap over the cliff.
There Amyas sat a full half-hour, and glanced at whiles from Frank tolook upon the scene around. Outside the southwest wind blew fresh andstrong, and the moonlight danced upon a thousand crests of foam; butwithin the black jagged point which sheltered the town, the sea didbut heave, in long oily swells of rolling silver, onward into the blackshadow of the hills, within which the town and pier lay invisible,save where a twinkling light gave token of some lonely fisher's wife,watching the weary night through for the boat which would return withdawn. Here and there upon the sea, a black speck marked a herring-boat,drifting with its line of nets; and right off the mouth of theglen, Amyas saw, with a beating heart, a large two-masted vessellying-to--that must be the "Portugal"! Eagerly he looked up the glen,and listened; but he heard nothing but the sweeping of the wind acrossthe downs five hundred feet above, and the sough of the waterfall uponthe rocks below; he saw nothing but the vast black sheets of oak-woodsloping up to the narrow blue sky above, and the broad bright hunter'smoon, and the woodcocks, which, chuckling to each other, hawked to andfro, like swallows, between the tree-tops and the sky.
At last he heard a rustle of the fallen leaves; he shrank closer andcloser into the darkness of the bank. Then swift light steps--not downthe path, from above, but upward, from below; his heart beat quick andloud. And in another half-minute a man came in sight, within three yardsof Frank's hiding-place.
Frank sprang out instantly. Amyas saw his bright blade glance in theclear October moonlight.
"Stand in the queen's name!"
The man drew a pistol from under his cloak, and fired full in his face.Had it happened in these days of detonators, Frank's chance had beensmall; but to get a ponderous wheel-lock under weigh was a longerbusiness, and before the fizzing of the flint had ceased, Frank hadstruck up the pistol with his rapier, and it exploded harmlessly overhis head. The man instantly dashed the weapon in his face and closed.
The blow, luckily, did not take effect on that delicate forehead, butstruck him on the shoulder: nevertheless, Frank, who with all his graceand agility was as fragile as a lily, and a very bubble of the earth,staggered, and lost his guard, and before he could recover himself,Amyas saw a dagger gleam, and one, two, three blows fiercely repeated.
Mad with fury, he was with them in an instant. They were scufflingtogether so closely in the shade that he was afraid to use his swordpoint; but with the hilt he dealt a single blow full on the ruffian'scheek. It was enough; with a hideous shriek, the fellow rolled over athis feet, and Amyas set his foot on him, in act to run him through.
"Stop! stay!" almost screamed Frank; "it is Eustace! our cousinEustace!" and he leant against a tree.
Amyas sprang towards him: but Frank waved him off.
"It is nothing--a scratch. He has papers: I am sure of it. Take them;and for God's sake let him go!"
"Villain! give me your papers!" cried Amyas, setting his foot once moreon the writhing Eustace, whose jaw was broken across.
"You struck me foully from behind," moaned he, his vanity and envy eventhen coming out, in that faint and foolish attempt to prove Amyas not sovery much better a man.
"Hound, do you think that I dare not strike you in front? Give me yourpapers, letters, whatever Popish devilry you carry; or as I live, I willcut off your head, and take them myself, even if it cost me the shameof stripping your corpse. Give them up! Traitor, murderer! give them, Isay!" And setting his foot on him afresh, he raised his sword.
Eustace was usually no craven: but he was cowed. Between agony andshame, he had no heart to resist. Martyrdom, which looked so splendidwhen consummated selon les regles on Tower Hill or Tyburn, beforepitying, or (still better) scoffing multitudes, looked a confused,dirty, ugly business there in the dark forest; and as he lay, a
streamof moonlight bathed his mighty cousin's broad clear forehead, and hislong golden locks, and his white terrible blade, till he seemed, toEustace's superstitious eye, like one of those fair young St. Michaelstrampling on the fiend, which he had seen abroad in old German pictures.He shuddered; pulled a packet from his bosom, and threw it from him,murmuring, "I have not given it."
"Swear to me that these are all the papers which you have in cipher orout of cipher. Swear on your soul, or you die!"
Eustace swore.
"Tell me, who are your accomplices?"
"Never!" said Eustace. "Cruel! have you not degraded me enough already?"and the wretched young man burst into tears, and hid his bleeding facein his hands.
One hint of honor made Amyas as gentle as a lamb. He lifted Eustace up,and bade him run for his life.
"I am to owe my life, then, to you?"
"Not in the least; only to your being a Leigh. Go, or it will be worsefor you!" And Eustace went; while Amyas, catching up the preciouspacket, hurried to Frank. He had fainted already, and his brother hadto carry him as far as the park before he could find any of the otherwatchers. The blind, as far as they were concerned, was complete. Theyhad heard and seen nothing. Whosoever had brought the packet had landedthey knew not where; and so all returned to the court, carrying Frank,who recovered gradually, having rather bruises than wounds; for his foehad struck wildly, and with a trembling hand.
Half-an-hour after, Amyas, Mr. Cary, and his son Will were in deepconsultation over the following epistle, the only paper in the packetwhich was not in cipher:--
"'DEAR BROTHER N. S. in Chto. et Ecclesia.
"This is to inform you and the friends of the cause, that S. Josephushas landed in Smerwick, with eight hundred valiant Crusaders, burningwith holy zeal to imitate last year's martyrs of Carrigfolium, andto expiate their offences (which I fear may have been many) by thepropagation of our most holy faith. I have purified the fort (which theyare strenuously rebuilding) with prayer and holy water, from the stainof heretical footsteps, and consecrated it afresh to the service ofHeaven, as the first-fruits of the isle of saints; and having displayedthe consecrated banner to the adoration of the faithful, have returnedto Earl Desmond, that I may establish his faith, weak as yet, by reasonof the allurements of this world: though since, by the valor of hisbrother James, he that hindered was taken out of the way (I mean Davilsthe heretic, sacrifice well-pleasing in the eyes of Heaven!), the youngman has lent a more obedient ear to my counsels. If you can do anything,do it quickly, for a great door and effectual is opened, and there aremany adversaries. But be swift, for so do the poor lambs of the Churchtremble at the fury of the heretics, that a hundred will flee before oneEnglishman. And, indeed, were it not for that divine charity towardthe Church (which covers the multitude of sins) with which they areresplendent, neither they nor their country would be, by the carnaljudgment, counted worthy of so great labor in their behalf. For theythemselves are given much to lying, theft, and drunkenness, vainbabbling, and profane dancing and singing; and are still, as S. Gildasreports of them, 'more careful to shroud their villainous faces in bushyhair, than decently to cover their bodies; while their land (byreason of the tyranny of their chieftains, and the continual wars andplunderings among their tribes, which leave them weak and divided,an easy prey to the myrmidons of the excommunicate and usurpingEnglishwoman) lies utterly waste with fire, and defaced with corpses ofthe starved and slain. But what are these things, while the holy virtueof Catholic obedience still flourishes in their hearts? The Church caresnot for the conservation of body and goods, but of immortal souls.
"If any devout lady shall so will, you may obtain from her liberality ashirt for this worthless tabernacle, and also a pair of hose; for I amunsavory to myself and to others, and of such luxuries none here hassuperfluity; for all live in holy poverty, except the fleas, who havethat consolation in this world for which this unhappy nation, and thosewho labor among them, must wait till the world to come.*
"Your loving brother,
"N. S."
* See note at end of chapter.
"Sir Richard must know of this before daybreak," cried old Cary. "Eighthundred men landed! We must call out the Posse Comitatus, and sail withthem bodily. I will go myself, old as I am. Spaniards in Ireland? not adog of them must go home again."
"Not a dog of them," answered Will; "but where is Mr. Winter and hissquadron?"
"Safe in Milford Haven; a messenger must be sent to him too."
"I'll go," said Amyas: "but Mr. Cary is right. Sir Richard must know allfirst."
"And we must have those Jesuits."
"What? Mr. Evans and Mr. Morgans? God help us--they are at my uncle's!Consider the honor of our family!"
"Judge for yourself, my dear boy," said old Mr. Cary, gently: "wouldit not be rank treason to let these foxes escape, while we have thisdamning proof against them?"
"I will go myself, then."
"Why not? You may keep all straight, and Will shall go with you. Call agroom, Will, and get your horse saddled, and my Yorkshire gray; he willmake better play with this big fellow on his back, than the little ponyastride of which Mr. Leigh came walking in (as I hear) this morning. Asfor Frank, the ladies will see to him well enough, and glad enough, too,to have so fine a bird in their cage for a week or two."
"And my mother?"
"We'll send to her to-morrow by daybreak. Come, a stirrup cup to startwith, hot and hot. Now, boots, cloaks, swords, a deep pull and a warmone, and away!"
And the jolly old man bustled them out of the house and into theirsaddles, under the broad bright winter's moon.
"You must make your pace, lads, or the moon will be down before you areover the moors." And so away they went.
Neither of them spoke for many a mile. Amyas, because his mind was fixedfirmly on the one object of saving the honor of his house; and Will,because he was hesitating between Ireland and the wars, and RoseSalterne and love-making. At last he spoke suddenly.
"I'll go, Amyas."
"Whither?"
"To Ireland with you, old man. I have dragged my anchor at last."
"What anchor, my lad of parables?"
"See, here am I, a tall and gallant ship."
"Modest even if not true."
"Inclination, like an anchor, holds me tight."
"To the mud."
"Nay, to a bed of roses--not without their thorns."
"Hillo! I have seen oysters grow on fruit-trees before now, but never ananchor in a rose-garden."
"Silence, or my allegory will go to noggin-staves."
"Against the rocks of my flinty discernment."
"Pooh--well. Up comes duty like a jolly breeze, blowing dead from thenortheast, and as bitter and cross as a northeaster too, and tugsme away toward Ireland. I hold on by the rosebed--any ground in astorm--till every strand is parted, and off I go, westward ho! to get mythroat cut in a bog-hole with Amyas Leigh."
"Earnest, Will?"
"As I am a sinful man."
"Well done, young hawk of the White Cliff!"
"I had rather have called it Gallantry Bower still, though," saidWill, punning on the double name of the noble precipice which forms thehighest point of the deer park.
"Well, as long as you are on land, you know it is Gallantry Bower still:but we always call it White Cliff when you see it from the sea-board, asyou and I shall do, I hope, to-morrow evening."
"What, so soon?"
"Dare we lose a day?"
"I suppose not: heigh-ho!"
And they rode on again in silence, Amyas in the meanwhile being not alittle content (in spite of his late self-renunciation) to find that oneof his rivals at least was going to raise the siege of the Rose gardenfor a few months, and withdraw his forces to the coast of Kerry.
As they went over Bursdon, Amyas pulled up suddenly.
"Did you not hear a horse's step on our left?"
"On our left--coming up from Welsford moor? Impossible at this time ofnight. It must have
been a stag, or a sownder of wild swine: or may beonly an old cow."
"It was the ring of iron, friend. Let us stand and watch."
Bursdon and Welsford were then, as now, a rolling range of drearymoors, unbroken by tor or tree, or anything save few and far betweena world-old furze-bank which marked the common rights of some distantcattle farm, and crossed then, not as now, by a decent road, but by arough confused track-way, the remnant of an old Roman road from Clovellydikes to Launceston. To the left it trended down towards a lower rangeof moors, which form the watershed of the heads of Torridge; and thitherthe two young men peered down over the expanse of bog and furze, whichglittered for miles beneath the moon, one sheet of frosted silver, inthe heavy autumn dew.
"If any of Eustace's party are trying to get home from Freshwater, theymight save a couple of miles by coming across Welsford, instead of goingby the main track, as we have done." So said Amyas, who though (luckilyfor him) no "genius," was cunning as a fox in all matters of tactic andpractic, and would have in these days proved his right to be consideredan intellectual person by being a thorough man of business.
"If any of his party are mad, they'll try it, and be stogged till theday of judgment. There are bogs in the bottom twenty feet deep. Plagueon the fellow, whoever he is, he has dodged us! Look there!"
It was too true. The unknown horseman had evidently dismounted below,and led his horse up on the other side of a long furze-dike; till comingto the point where it turned away again from his intended course, heappeared against the sky, in the act of leading his nag over a gap.
"Ride like the wind!" and both youths galloped across furze and heatherat him; but ere they were within a hundred yards of him, he had leaptagain on his horse, and was away far ahead.
"There is the dor to us, with a vengeance," cried Cary, putting in thespurs.
"It is but a lad; we shall never catch him."
"I'll try, though; and do you lumber after as you can, old heavysides;"and Cary pushed forward.
Amyas lost sight of him for ten minutes, and then came up with himdismounted, and feeling disconsolately at his horse's knees.
"Look for my head. It lies somewhere about among the furze there; andoh! I am as full of needles as ever was a pin-cushion."
"Are his knees broken?"
"I daren't look. No, I believe not. Come along, and make the best of abad matter. The fellow is a mile ahead, and to the right, too."
"He is going for Moorwinstow, then; but where is my cousin?"
"Behind us, I dare say. We shall nab him at least."
"Cary, promise me that if we do, you will keep out of sight, and let memanage him."
"My boy, I only want Evan Morgans and Morgan Evans. He is but the cat'spaw, and we are after the cats themselves."
And so they went on another dreary six miles, till the land trendeddownwards, showing dark glens and masses of woodland far below.
"Now, then, straight to Chapel, and stop the foxes' earth? Or throughthe King's Park to Stow, and get out Sir Richard's hounds, hue and cry,and queen's warrant in proper form?"
"Let us see Sir Richard first; and whatsoever he decides about my uncle,I will endure as a loyal subject must."
So they rode through the King's Park, while Sir Richard's colts camewhinnying and staring round the intruders, and down through a richwoodland lane five hundred feet into the valley, till they could hearthe brawling of the little trout-stream, and beyond, the everlastingthunder of the ocean surf.
Down through warm woods, all fragrant with dying autumn flowers, leavingfar above the keen Atlantic breeze, into one of those delicious Westerncombes, and so past the mill, and the little knot of flower-cladcottages. In the window of one of them a light was still burning. Thetwo young men knew well whose window that was; and both hearts beatfast; for Rose Salterne slept, or rather seemed to wake, in thatchamber.
"Folks are late in Combe to-night," said Amyas, as carelessly as hecould.
Cary looked earnestly at the window, and then sharply enough at Amyas;but Amyas was busy settling his stirrup; and Cary rode on, unconsciousthat every fibre in his companion's huge frame was trembling like hisown.
"Muggy and close down here," said Amyas, who, in reality, was quitefaint with his own inward struggles.
"We shall be at Stow gate in five minutes," said Cary, looking back anddown longingly as his horse climbed the opposite hill; but a turn of thezigzag road hid the cottage, and the next thought was, how to effect anentrance into Stow at three in the morning without being eaten by theban-dogs, who were already howling and growling at the sound of thehorse-hoofs.
However, they got safely in, after much knocking and calling, throughthe postern gate in the high west wall, into a mansion, the descriptionwhereof I must defer to the next chapter, seeing that the moon hasalready sunk into the Atlantic, and there is darkness over land and sea.
Sir Richard, in his long gown, was soon downstairs in the hall; theletter read, and the story told; but ere it was half finished--
"Anthony, call up a groom, and let him bring me a horse round.Gentlemen, if you will excuse me five minutes, I shall be at yourservice."
"You will not go alone, Richard?" asked Lady Grenville, putting herbeautiful face in its nightcoif out of an adjoining door.
"Surely, sweet chuck, we three are enough to take two poor polecats ofJesuits. Go in, and help me to boot and gird."
In half an hour they were down and up across the valley again, under thefew low ashes clipt flat by the sea-breeze which stood round the lonelygate of Chapel.
"Mr. Cary, there is a back path across the downs to Marsland; go andguard that." Cary rode off; and Sir Richard, as he knocked loudly at thegate--
"Mr. Leigh, you see that I have consulted your honor, and that of yourpoor uncle, by adventuring thus alone. What will you have me do now,which may not be unfit for me and you?"
"Oh, sir!" said Amyas, with tears in his honest eyes, "you have shownyourself once more what you always have been--my dear and beloved masteron earth, not second even to my admiral Sir Francis Drake."
"Or the queen, I hope," said Grenville, smiling, "but pocas palabras.What will you do?"
"My wretched cousin, sir, may not have returned--and if I might watchfor him on the main road--unless you want me with you."
"Richard Grenville can walk alone, lad. But what will you do with yourcousin?"
"Send him out of the country, never to return; or if he refuses, run himthrough on the spot."
"Go, lad." And as he spoke, a sleepy voice asked inside the gate, "Whowas there?"
"Sir Richard Grenville. Open, in the queen's name?"
"Sir Richard? He is in bed, and be hanged to you. No honest folk come atthis hour of night."
"Amyas!" shouted Sir Richard. Amyas rode back.
"Burst that gate for me, while I hold your horse."
Amyas leaped down, took up a rock from the roadside, such as Homer'sheroes used to send at each other's heads, and in an instant the doorwas flat on the ground, and the serving-man on his back inside, whileSir Richard quietly entering over it, like Una into the hut, told thefellow to get up and hold his horse for him (which the clod, who knewwell enough that terrible voice, did without further murmurs), and thenstrode straight to the front door. It was already opened. The householdhad been up and about all along, or the noise at the entry had arousedthem.
Sir Richard knocked, however, at the open door; and, to hisastonishment, his knock was answered by Mr. Leigh himself, fullydressed, and candle in hand.
"Sir Richard Grenville! What, sir! is this neighborly, not to saygentle, to break into my house in the dead of night?"
"I broke your outer door, sir, because I was refused entrance when Iasked in the queen's name. I knocked at your inner one, as I shouldhave knocked at the poorest cottager's in the parish, because I foundit open. You have two Jesuits here, sir! and here is the queen's warrantfor apprehending them. I have signed it with my own hand, and, moreover,serve it now, with my own hand, in order to
save you scandal--and it maybe, worse. I must have these men, Mr. Leigh."
"My dear Sir Richard--!"
"I must have them, or I must search the house; and you would not puteither yourself or me to so shameful a necessity?"
"My dear Sir Richard!--"
"Must I, then, ask you to stand back from your own doorway, my dearsir?" said Grenville. And then changing his voice to that fearful lion'sroar, for which he was famous, and which it seemed impossible that lipsso delicate could utter, he thundered, "Knaves, behind there! Back!"
This was spoken to half-a-dozen grooms and serving-men, who, well armed,were clustered in the passage.
"What? swords out, you sons of cliff rabbits?" And in a moment, SirRichard's long blade flashed out also, and putting Mr. Leigh gentlyaside, as if he had been a child, he walked up to the party, whovanished right and left; having expected a cur dog, in the shape of aparish constable, and come upon a lion instead. They were stout fellowsenough, no doubt, in a fair fight: but they had no stomach to be hangedin a row at Launceston Castle, after a preliminary running through thebody by that redoubted admiral and most unpeaceful justice of the peace.
"And now, my dear Mr. Leigh," said Sir Richard, as blandly as ever,"where are my men? The night is cold; and you, as well as I, need to bein our beds."
"The men, Sir Richard--the Jesuits--they are not here, indeed."
"Not here, sir?"
"On the word of a gentleman, they left my house an hour ago. Believe me,sir, they did. I will swear to you if you need."
"I believe Mr. Leigh of Chapel's word without oaths. Whither are theygone?"
"Nay, sir--how can I tell? They are--they are, as I may say, fled, sir;escaped."
"With your connivance; at least with your son's. Where are they gone?"
"As I live, I do not know."
"Mr. Leigh--is this possible? Can you add untruth to that treason fromthe punishment of which I am trying to shield you?"
Poor Mr. Leigh burst into tears.
"Oh! my God! my God! is it come to this? Over and above having the fearand anxiety of keeping these black rascals in my house, and having tostop their villainous mouths every minute, for fear they should hang meand themselves, I am to be called a traitor and a liar in my old age,and that, too, by Richard Grenville! Would God I had never been born!Would God I had no soul to be saved, and I'd just go and drown care indrink, and let the queen and the Pope fight it out their own way!" Andthe poor old man sank into a chair, and covered his face with his hands,and then leaped up again.
"Bless my heart! Excuse me, Sir Richard--to sit down and leave youstanding. 'S life, sir, sorrow is making a hawbuck of me. Sit down, mydear sir! my worshipful sir! or rather come with me into my room, andhear a poor wretched man's story, for I swear before God the men arefled; and my poor boy Eustace is not home either, and the groom tells methat his devil of a cousin has broken his jaw for him; and his mother isall but mad this hour past. Good lack! good lack!"
"He nearly murdered his angel of a cousin, sir!" said Sir Richard,severely.
"What, sir? They never told me."
"He had stabbed his cousin Frank three times, sir, before Amyas, who isas noble a lad as walks God's earth, struck him down. And in defenceof what, forsooth, did he play the ruffian and the swashbuckler, but tobring home to your house this letter, sir, which you shall hear at yourleisure, the moment I have taken order about your priests." And walkingout of the house he went round and called to Cary to come to him.
"The birds are flown, Will," whispered he. "There is but one chance forus, and that is Marsland Mouth. If they are trying to take boat there,you may be yet in time. If they are gone inland we can do nothing tillwe raise the hue and cry to-morrow."
And Will galloped off over the downs toward Marsland, while Sir Richardceremoniously walked in again, and professed himself ready and happy tohave the honor of an audience in Mr. Leigh's private chamber. And as weknow pretty well already what was to be discussed therein, we had bettergo over to Marsland Mouth, and, if possible, arrive there before WillCary: seeing that he arrived hot and swearing, half an hour too late.
Note.--I have shrunk somewhat from giving these and other sketches (trueand accurate as I believe them to be) of Ireland during Elizabeth'sreign, when the tyranny and lawlessness of the feudal chiefs had reducedthe island to such a state of weakness and barbarism, that it wasabsolutely necessary for England either to crush the Norman-Irishnobility, and organize some sort of law and order, or to leave Irelandan easy prey to the Spaniards, or any other nation which should go towar with us. The work was done--clumsily rather than cruelly; but wrongswere inflicted, and avenged by fresh wrongs, and those by fresh again.May the memory of them perish forever! It has been reserved for thisage, and for the liberal policy of this age, to see the last ebullitionsof Celtic excitability die out harmless and ashamed of itself, andto find that the Irishman, when he is brought as a soldier under theregenerative influence of law, discipline, self-respect, and loyalty,can prove himself a worthy rival of the more stern Norse-Saxon warrior.God grant that the military brotherhood between Irish and English,which is the special glory of the present war, may be the germ of abrotherhood industrial, political, and hereafter, perhaps, religiousalso; and that not merely the corpses of heroes, but the feuds andwrongs which have parted them for centuries, may lie buried, once andforever, in the noble graves of Alma and Inkerman.