_CHAPTER VIII_
_The Trouble in Billingsgate Ward_
About a week after Brandon's memorable interview with Mary an incidentoccurred which changed everything and came very near terminating hiscareer in the flower of youth. It also brought about a situation ofaffairs that showed the difference in the quality of these two personsthrown so marvelously together from their far distant stations at eachend of the ladder of fortune, in a way that reflected very littlecredit upon the one from the upper end. But before I tell you of thatI will relate briefly one or two other matters that had a bearing uponwhat was done, and the motives prompting it.
To begin with, Brandon had kept himself entirely away from theprincess ever since the afternoon at the king's ante-chamber. Thefirst day or so she sighed, but thought little of his absence; thenshe wept, and as usual began to grow piqued and irritable.
What was left of her judgment told her it was better for them toremain apart, but her longing to see Brandon grew stronger as theprospect of it grew less, and she became angry that it could not begratified. Jane was right; an unsatisfied desire with Mary wastorture. Even her sense of the great distance between them had begunto fade, and when she so wished for him and he did not come, theirpositions seemed to be reversed. At the end of the third day she sentfor him to come to her rooms, but he, by a mighty effort, sent back abrief note saying that he could not and ought not to go. This, ofcourse, threw Mary into a great passion, for she judged him byherself--a very common but dangerous method of judgment--and thoughtthat if he felt at all as she did, he would throw prudence to thewinds and come to her, as she knew she would go to him if she could.It did not occur to her that Brandon knew himself well enough to besure he would never go to New Spain if he allowed another grain oftemptation to fall into the balance against him, but would remain inLondon to love hopelessly, to try to win a hopeless cause, and end itall by placing his head upon the block.
It required all his strength, even now, to hold fast his determinationto go to New Spain. He had reached his limit. He had a fund of thatmost useful of all wisdom, knowledge of self, and knew hislimitations; a little matter concerning which nine men out of ten goall their lives in blissless ignorance.
Mary, who was no more given to self-analysis than her pet linnet, didnot appreciate Brandon's potent reasons, and was in a flaming passionwhen she received his answer. Rage and humiliation completelysmothered, for the time, her affection, and she said to herself, overand over again: "I hate the low-born wretch. Oh! to think what I havepermitted!" And tears of shame and repentance came in a flood, as theyhave come from yielding woman's eyes since the world was born. Thenshe began to doubt his motives. As long as she thought she had givenher gift to one who offered a responsive passion, she was glad andproud of what she had done, but she had heard of man's pretense inorder to cozen woman out of her favors, and she began to think she hadbeen deceived. To her the logic seemed irresistible; that if the samemotive lived in his heart, and prompted him, that burned in herbreast, and induced her, who was virgin to her very heart-core, andwhose hand had hardly before been touched by the hand of man, to giveso much, no power of prudence could keep him away from her. So sheconcluded she had given her gold for his dross. This conclusion wasmore easily arrived at owing to the fact that she had never beenentirely sure of the state of his heart. There had always been alove-exciting grain of doubt; and when the thought came to her thatshe had been obliged to ask him to tell her of his affection, and thatthe advances had really all been made by her, that confirmed hersuspicions. It seemed only too clear that she had been too quick togive--no very comforting thought to a proud girl, even though amistaken one.
As the days went by and Brandon did not come, her anger cooled, asusual, and again her heart began to ache; but her sense of injury grewstronger day by day, and she thought she was, beyond a doubt, the mostill-used of women.
The other matter I wish to tell you is, that the negotiations forMary's marriage with old Louis XII of France were beginning to be anopen secret about the court. The Duc de Longueville, who had been heldby Henry for some time as a sort of hostage from the French king, hadopened negotiations by inflaming the flickering passions of old Louiswith descriptions of Mary's beauty. As there was a prospect of a newemperor soon, and as the imperial bee had of late been making a mostvehement buzzing in Henry's bonnet, he encouraged de Longueville, andthought it would be a good time to purchase the help of France at thecost of his beautiful sister and a handsome dower. Mary, of course,had not been consulted, and although she had coaxed her brother out ofother marriage projects, Henry had gone about this as if he were inearnest, and it was thought throughout the court that Mary's coaxingswould be all in vain--a fear which she herself had begun to share,notwithstanding her usual self-confidence.
She hated the thought of the marriage, and dreaded it as she woulddeath itself, though she said nothing to any one but Jane, and washolding her forces in reserve for the grand attack. She was preparingthe way by being very sweet and kind to Henry.
Now, all of this, coming upon the heels of her trouble with Brandon,made her most wretched indeed. For the first time in her life shebegan to feel suffering; that great broadener, in fact, maker, ofhuman character.
Above all, there was an alarming sense of uncertainty in everything.She could hardly bring herself to believe that Brandon would really goto New Spain, and that she would actually lose him, although she didnot want him, as yet; that is, as a prospective husband. Flashes ofall sorts of wild schemes had begun to shoot through her anger andgrief when she stared in the face the prospect of her doubleseparation from him--her marriage to another, and the countless milesof fathomless sea that would be between them. She could endureanything better than uncertainty. A menacing future is the keenest ofall tortures for any of us to bear, but especially for a girl likeMary. Death itself is not so terrible as the fear of it.
Now about this time there lived over in Billingsgate Ward--the worstpart of London--a Jewish soothsayer named Grouche. He was also anastrologer, and had of late grown into great fame as prophet of thefuture--a fortune-teller.
His fame rested on several remarkable predictions which had beenfulfilled to the letter, and I really think the man had some wonderfulpowers. They said he was half Jew, half gypsy, and, if there isalchemy in the mixing of blood, that combination should surely producesomething peculiar. The city folk were said to have visited him ingreat numbers, and, notwithstanding the priests and bishops allcondemned him as an imp of Satan and a follower of witchcraft, manyfine people, including some court ladies, continued to go there bystealth in order to take a dangerous, inquisitive peep into thefuture. I say by stealth; because his ostensible occupation ofsoothsaying and fortune-telling was not his only business. His housewas really a place of illicit meeting, and the soothsaying was oftenbut an excuse for going there. Lacking this ostensible occupation, hewould not have been allowed to keep his house within the wall, butwould have been relegated to his proper place--Bridge Ward Without.
Mary had long wanted to see this Grouche, at first out of merecuriosity; but Henry, who was very moral--with other people'sconsciences--would not think of permitting it. Two ladies, LadyChesterfield and Lady Ormond, both good and virtuous women, had beendetected in such a visit, and had been disgraced and expelled fromcourt in the most cruel manner by order of the king himself.
Now, added to Mary's old-time desire to see Grouche, came a longing toknow the outcome of the present momentous complication of affairs thattouched her so closely.
She could not wait for Time to unfold himself, and drop his budget ofevents as he traveled, but she must plunge ahead of him, and know,beforehand, the stores of the fates--an intrusion they usually resent.I need not tell you that was Mary's only object in going, nor that herheart was as pure as a babe's--quite as chaste and almost as innocent.It is equally true that the large proportion of persons who visitedGrouche made his soothsaying an excuse. The thought of how wretchedlife would be with Louis had put into Ma
ry's mind the thought of howsweet it would be with Brandon. Then came the wish that Brandon hadbeen a prince, or even a great English nobleman; and then leaped up,all rainbow-hued, the hope that he might yet, by reason of his owngreat virtues, rise to all of these, and she become his wife. But atthe threshold of this fair castle came knocking the thought thatperhaps he did not care for her, and had deceived her to gain herfavors. Then she flushed with anger and swore to herself she hatedhim, and hoped never to see his face again. And the castle faded andwas wafted away to the realms of airy nothingness.
Ah! how people will sometimes lie to themselves; and sensible peopleat that.
So Mary wanted to see Grouche; first, through curiosity, in itself astronger motive than we give it credit for; second, to learn if shewould be able to dissuade Henry from the French marriage and perhapscatch a hint how to do it; and last, but by no means least, todiscover the state of Brandon's heart toward her.
By this time the last-named motive was strong enough to draw her anywhither, although she would not acknowledge it, even to herself, andin truth hardly knew it; so full are we of things we know not of.
So she determined to go to see Grouche secretly, and was confident shecould arrange the visit in such a way that it would never bediscovered.
One morning I met Jane, who told me, with troubled face, that she andMary were going to London to make some purchases, would lodge atBridewell House, and go over to Billingsgate that evening to consultGrouche. Mary had taken the whim into her wilful head, and Jane couldnot dissuade her.
The court was all at Greenwich, and nobody at Bridewell, so Marythought they could disguise themselves as orange girls and easily makethe trip without any one being the wiser.
It was then, as now, no safe matter for even a man to go unattendedthrough the best parts of London after dark, to say nothing ofBillingsgate, that nest of water-rats and cut-throats. But Mary didnot realize the full danger of the trip, and would, as usual, allownobody to tell her.
She had threatened Jane with all sorts of vengeance if she divulgedher secret, and Jane was miserable enough between her fears on eitherhand; for Mary, though the younger, held her in complete subjection.Despite her fear of Mary, Jane asked me to go to London and followthem at a distance, unknown to the princess. I was to be on duty thatnight at a dance given in honor of the French envoys who had justarrived, bringing with them commission of special ambassador to deLongueville to negotiate the treaty of marriage, and it was impossiblefor me to go. Mary was going partly to avoid this ball, and her wilfulpersistency made Henry very angry. I regretted that I could not go,but I promised Jane I would send Brandon in my place, and he wouldanswer the purpose of protection far better than I. I suggested thatBrandon take with him a man, but Jane, who was in mortal fear of Mary,would not listen to it. So it was agreed that Brandon should meet Janeat a given place and learn the particulars, and this plan was carriedout.
Brandon went up to London and saw Jane, and before the appointed timehid himself behind a hedge near the private gate through which thegirls intended to take their departure from Bridewell.
They would leave about dusk and return, so Mary said, before it grewdark.
The citizens of London at that time paid very little attention to thelaw requiring them to hang out their lights, and when it was dark it_was_ dark.
Scarcely was Brandon safely ensconced behind a clump of arbor vitaewhen whom should he see coming down the path toward the gate but hisgrace, the Duke of Buckingham. He was met by one of the Bridewellservants who was in attendance upon the princess.
"Yes, your grace, this is the gate," said the girl. "You can hideyourself and watch them as they go. They will pass out on this path.As I said, I do not know where they are going; I only overheard themsay they would go out at this gate just before dark. I am sure they goon some errand of gallantry, which your grace will soon learn, I makeno doubt."
He replied that he "would take care of that."
Brandon did not see where Buckingham hid himself, but soon the twoinnocent adventurers came down the path, attired in the short skirtsand bonnets of orange girls, and let themselves out at the gate.Buckingham followed them and Brandon quickly followed him. The girlspassed through a little postern in the wall opposite Bridewell House,and walked rapidly up Fleet Ditch; climbed Ludgate Hill; passed Paul'schurch; turned toward the river down Bennett Hill; to the left onThames street; then on past the Bridge, following Lower Thames streetto the neighborhood of Fish-street Hill, where they took an alleyleading up toward East Cheap to Grouche's house.
It was a brave thing for the girl to do, and showed the determinedspirit that dwelt in her soft white breast. Aside from the realdangers, there was enough to deter any woman, I should think.
Jane wept all the way over, but Mary never flinched.
There were great mud-holes where one sank ankle-deep, for no one pavedthe street at that time, strangely enough preferring to pay thesixpence fine per square yard for leaving it undone. At one place,Brandon told me, a load of hay blocked the streets, compelling them tosqueeze between the houses and the hay. He could hardly believe thegirls had passed that way, as he had not always been able to keep themin view, but had sometimes to follow them by watching Buckingham. He,however, kept as close as possible, and presently saw them turn downGrouche's alley and enter his house.
Upon learning where they had stopped, Buckingham hurriedly tookhimself off, and Brandon waited for the girls to come out. It seemed avery long time that they were in the wretched place, and darkness hadwell descended upon London when they emerged.
Mary soon noticed that a man was following them, and as she did notknow who he was, became greatly alarmed. The object of her journey hadbeen accomplished now, so the spur of a strong motive to keep hercourage up was lacking.
"Jane, some one is following us," she whispered.
"Yes," answered Jane, with an unconcern that surprised Mary, for sheknew Jane was a coward from the top of her brown head to the tip ofher little pink heels.
"Oh, if I had only taken your advice, Jane, and had never come to thiswretched place; and to think, too, that I came here only to learn theworst. Shall we ever get home alive, do you think?"
They hurried on, the man behind them taking less care to remain unseenthan he did when coming. Mary's fears grew upon her as she heard hisstep and saw his form persistently following them, and she clutchedJane by the arm.
"It is all over with us, I know. I would give everything I have orever expect to have on earth for--for Master Brandon at this moment."She thought of him as the one person best able to defend her.
This was only too welcome an opportunity, and Jane said: "That isMaster Brandon following us. If we wait a few seconds he will behere," and she called to him before Mary could interpose.
Now this disclosure operated in two ways. Brandon's presence was, itis true, just what Mary had so ardently wished, but the danger, and,therefore, the need, was gone when she found that the man who wasfollowing them had no evil intent. Two thoughts quickly flashedthrough the girl's mind. She was angry with Brandon for having cheatedher out of so many favors and for having slighted her love, as she hadsucceeded in convincing herself was the case, all of which Grouche hadconfirmed by telling her he was false. Then she had been discovered indoing what she knew she should have left undone, and what she wasanxious to conceal from every one; and, worst of all, had beendiscovered by the very person from whom she was most anxious to hideit.
So she turned upon Jane angrily: "Jane Bolingbroke, you shall leave meas soon as we get back to Greenwich for this betrayal of myconfidence."
She was not afraid now that the danger was over, and feared no newdanger with Brandon at hand to protect her, for in her heart she feltthat to overcome a few fiery dragons and a company or so of giantswould be a mere pastime to him; yet see how she treated him. The girlshad stopped when Jane called Brandon, and he was at once by their sidewith uncovered head, hoping for, and, of course, expecting, a warmwelcome. But even Brand
on, with his fund of worldly philosophy, hadnot learned not to put his trust in princesses, and his surprise wasbenumbing when Mary turned angrily upon him.
"Master Brandon, your impudence in following us shall cost you dearly.We do not desire your company, and will thank you to leave us to ourown affairs, as we wish you to attend exclusively to yours."
This from the girl who had given him so much within less than a week!Poor Brandon!
Jane, who had called him up, and was the cause of his following them,began to weep.
"Sir," said she, "forgive me; it was not my fault; she had justsaid--" Slap! came Mary's hand on Jane's mouth; and Jane was marchedoff, weeping bitterly.
The girls had started up toward East Cheap when they left Grouche's,intending to go home by an upper route, and now they walked rapidly inthat direction. Brandon continued to follow them, notwithstanding whatMary had said, and she thanked him and her God ever after that he did.
They had been walking not more than five minutes, when, just as thegirls turned a corner into a secluded little street, winding its wayamong the fish warehouses, four horsemen passed Brandon in evidentpursuit of them. Brandon hurried forward, but before he reached thecorner heard screams of fright, and as he turned into the streetdistinctly saw that two of the men had dismounted and were trying toovertake the fleeing girls. Fright lent wings to their feet, and theirshort skirts affording freedom to their limbs, they were giving thepursuers a warm little race, screaming at every step to the full limitof their voices. How they did run and scream! It was but a moment tillBrandon came up with the pursuers, who, all unconscious that they inturn were pursued, did not expect an attack from the rear. The menremaining on horseback shouted an alarm to their comrades, but sointent were the latter in their pursuit that they did not hear. One ofthe men on foot fell dead, pierced through the back of the neck byBrandon's sword, before either was aware of his presence. The otherturned, but was a corpse before he could cry out. The girls hadstopped a short distance ahead, exhausted by their flight. Mary hadstumbled and fallen, but had risen again, and both were now leaningagainst a wall, clinging to each other, a picture of abject terror.Brandon ran to the girls, but by the time he reached them the two menon horseback were there also, hacking away at him from their saddles.Brandon did his best to save himself from being cut to pieces and thegirls from being trampled under foot by the prancing horses. A narrowjutting of the wall, a foot or two in width, a sort of flyingbuttress, gave him a little advantage, and up into the slight shelterof the corner thus formed he thrust the girls, and with his back tothem, faced his unequal foe with drawn sword. Fortunately the positionallowed only one horse to attack them. Two men on foot would have beenless in each other's way and much more effective. The men, however,stuck to their horses, and one of them pressed the attack, striking atBrandon most viciously. It being dark, and the distance deceptive, thehorseman's sword at last struck the wall, a flash of sparks flying inits trail, and lucky it was, or this story would have ended here.Thereupon Brandon thrust his sword into the horse's throat, causing itto rear backward, plunging and lunging into the street, where it fell,holding its rider by the leg against the cobble-stones of a littlegutter.
A cry from the fallen horseman brought his companion to his side, andgave Brandon an opportunity to escape with the girls. Of this he tookadvantage, you may be sure, for one of his mottoes was, that thegreatest fool in the world is he who does not early in life learn howand when to run.
In the light of the sparks from the sword-stroke upon the wall, briefas it was, Brandon recognized the face of Buckingham, from which themask had fallen. Of this he did not speak to any one till longafterward, and his silence was almost his undoing.
How often a word spoken or unspoken may have the very deuce in iteither way!
The girls were nearly dead from fright, and in order to make any sortof progress Brandon had to carry the princess and help Jane until hethought they were out of danger. Jane soon recovered, but Mary did notseem anxious to walk, and lay with her head upon Brandon's shoulder,apparently contented enough.
In a few minutes Jane said, "If you can walk now, my lady, I think youhad better. We shall soon be near Fishmonger's Hall, where some one issure to be standing at this hour."
Mary said nothing in reply to Jane, but, as Brandon fell a step or twobehind at a narrow crossing, whispered:
"Forgive me, forgive me; I will do any penance you ask; I am unworthyto speak your name. I owe you my life and more--and more a thousandtimes." At this she lifted her arm and placed her hand upon his cheekand neck. She then learned for the first time that he was wounded, andthe tears came softly as she slipped from his arms to the ground. Shewalked beside him quietly for a little time, then, taking his hand inboth of hers, gently lifted it to her lips and laid it upon herbreast. Half an hour afterward Brandon left the girls at BridewellHouse, went over to the Bridge where he had left his horse at ahostelry, and rode down to Greenwich.
So Mary had made her trip to Grouche's, but it was labor worse thanlost. Grouche had told her nothing she wanted to know, though muchthat he supposed she would like to learn. He had told her she had manylovers, a fact which her face and form would make easy enough todiscover. He informed her also that she had a low-born lover, and inorder to put a little evil in with the good fortune, and give what hesaid an air of truth, he added to Mary's state of unrest more than hethought by telling her that her low-born lover was false. He thoughtto flatter her by predicting that she would soon marry a very greatprince or nobleman, the indications being in favor of the former, and,in place of this making her happy, she wished the wretched soothsayerin the bottomless pit--he and all his prophecies; herself, too, forgoing to him. His guesses were pretty shrewd; that is, admitting hedid not know who Mary was, which she at least supposed was the case.So Mary wept that night and moaned and moaned because she had gone toGrouche's. It had added infinitely to the pain of which her heart wasalready too full, and made her thoroughly wretched and unhappy. Asusual though, with the blunders of stubborn, self-willed people, someone else had to pay the cost of her folly. Brandon was paymaster inthis case, and when you see how dearly he paid, and how poorly sherequited the debt, I fear you will despise her. Wait, though! Be nothasty. The right of judgment belongs to--you know whom. No man knowsanother man's heart, much less a woman's, so how can he judge? Weshall all have more than enough of judging by and by. So let us putoff for as many to-morrows as possible the thing that should be leftundone to-day.