III

In the kitchen the spits had ceased turning, the dishes had been borne

upstairs to the envoy from Cleves, the scullions were wiping knives,

the maids were rubbing pieces of bread in the dripping pans and

licking their fingers after the succulent morsels. The magister stood,

a long crimson blot in the window-way; the hostess was setting flagons

carefully into the great armoury.

'Madam wife,' the magister said to her at last, when she came near,

'ye see how weighty it is that I bide here.'

'Husband,' she said, 'I see how weighty it is that ye hasten to

London.'

His rage broke--he whirled his arms above his head.

'Naughty woman!' he screamed harshly. 'Shalt be beaten.' He strode

across to the basting range and gripped a great ladle, his brown eyes

glinting, and stood caressing his thin chin passionately.

She folded her arms complacently.

'Husband,' she said, 'it is well that wives be beaten when they have

merited it. But, till I have, I have seven cooks and five knaves to

bear my part.'

Udal's hand fell suddenly and dispiritedly to his side. What indeed

could he do? He could not beat this woman unless she would be

beaten--and she stood there, square, buxom, solid and composed. He had

indeed that sense that all scholars must have in presence of assured

wives, that she was the better man. Moreover, the rage that had filled

him in presence of Doctor Longstaffe had cooled down to nothing in

Longstaffe's absence.

He folded his arms and tried impatiently to think where, in this

pickle, his feet had landed him. His wife turned once more to place

flagons in the armoury.

'Woman,' he said at last, in a tone half of majesty, half of appeal,

'see ye not how weighty it is that I bide here?'

'Husband,' she answered with her tranquil nonchalance, 'see ye not

how weighty it is that ye waste here no more days?'

'But very well you know,' and he stretched out to her a thin hand,

'that here be two embassies of mystery: you have had, these three

days, the Cleves envoy in the house. You have seen that the Duke of

Norfolk comes here as ambassador.'

She took a stool and sat near his feet to listen to him.

'Now,' he began again, 'if I be in truth a spy for Thomas Cromwell,

Lord Privy Seal, where can I spy better for him than here? For the

Cleves people are befriended with Privy Seal; then why come they to

France, where bide only Privy Seal's enemies? Now Norfolk is the

chiefest enemy of Privy Seal; then wherefore cometh Norfolk to this

land, where abide only these foes of Privy Seal?'

She set her elbows on her knees and her knuckles below her chin, and

gazed up at him like a child.

'Tell me, husband,' she said; 'be ye a true spy for Thomas Cromwell?'

He glanced round him with terror--but no man stood nearer than the

meat boards across the kitchen, so far out of earshot that they could

not hear feet upon the bricks.

'Nay, ye may tell me the very truth of the very truth,' she said.

'These be false days--but my kitchen gear is thine, and nothing doth

so bind folks together.'

'But other listeners--' he said.

'Hosts and hostesses are listeners,' she answered. ''Tis their trade.

And their trade it is, too, to fend from them all other listeners.

Here you may speak. Tell me then, if I may serve you, very truly

whether ye be a true spy for Thomas Cromwell or against him.'

Her round face, beneath the great white hood, had a childish

earnestness.

'Why, you are a fair doxy,' he said. He hung his head for some more

minutes, then he spoke again.

'It is a folly to speak of me as Privy Seal's spy, though I have so

spoken of myself. For why? It gaineth me worship, maketh men to fear

me and women to be dazzled by my power. But in truth, I have little

power.'

'That is the very truth?' she asked.

He nodded nonchalantly and waited again to find very clear words for

her understanding.

'But, though it be true that I am no spy of Cromwell's, true it is

also that I am a very poor man who craves very much for money. For I

love good books that cost much gold; comely women that cost far more;

succulent meats, sweet wines, high piled fires and warm furs.'

He smacked his lips thinking of these same things.

'I am, in short, no stoic,' he said, 'the stoics being ancient

curmudgeons that were low-stomached.' Now, he continued, the Old Faith

he loved well, but not over well; the Protestants he called busy

knaves, but the New Learning he loved beyond life. Cromwell thwacked

the Old Faith; he loved him not for that. Cromwell upheld in a sort

the Protestants; he little loved him for that. 'But the New Learning

he loveth, and, oh fair sharer of my dreams o' nights, Cromwell

holdeth the strings of the money-bags.'

She scratched her cheek meditatively, and then unfolded her arms.

'How then ha' ye come by his broad pieces?'

'It is three years since,' he answered, 'that Privy Seal sent for me.

I had been cast out of my mastership at Eton College, for they

said--foul liars said--that I had stolen the silver salt-cellars.' He

had been teaching, for his sins, in the house of the Lord Edmund

Howard, where he had had his best pupil, but no more salary than what

his belly could hold of poor mutton. 'So Privy Seal did send for

me----'

'Kat Howard was thy best pupil?' his wife asked meditatively.

'By the shrine of Saint Eloi--' he commenced to swear.

'Nay, lie not,' she cut him short. 'You love Kat Howard and six other

wenches. I know it well. What said Privy Seal?'

He meditated again to protest that he loved not Katharine, but her

quiet stolidity set him to change his mind.

'It was that the Lady Mary of England needed a preceptor, an

amanuensis, an aid for her studies in the learned language.' For the

King's Highness' daughter had a great learning and was agate of

writing a commentary of Plautus his plays. But the Lady Mary hated

also virulently--and with what cause all men know--the King her

father. And for years long, since the death of the Queen her

mother--whom God preserve in Paradise!--for years long the Lady Mary

had maintained a treasonable correspondence with the King's enemies,

with the Emperor, with the Bishop of Rome----

'Our Holy Father the Pope,' his wife said, and crossed herself.

'And with this King here of France,' Udal continued, whilst he too

crossed himself with graceful waves of his brown hand. He continued to

report that the way in which the Lady Mary sent her letters abroad had

never been found; that Cromwell had appointed three tutors in

succession to be aid to the Lady Mary in her studies. Each of these

three she had broken and cast out from her doors, she being by far the

more learned, so that, though Privy Seal in his might had seven

thousand spies throughout the realm of England, he had among them no

man learned enough to take this place and to spy out the things that

he would learn.

'Therefore Privy Seal did send for thee, who art accounted the most

learned doctor in Christendom.' His wife's eyes glowed and her face

became ruddy with pride in her husband's fame.

The magister waved his hand pleasantly.

'Therefore he did send for me.' Privy Seal had promised him seven

hundred pounds, farms with sixty pounds by the year, or the headship

of New College if the magister could discover how the Lady Mary wrote

her letters abroad.

'So I have stayed three years with the Lady Mary,' Udal said. 'But

before God,' he asseverated, 'though I have known these twenty-nine

months that she sent away her letters in the crusts of pudding pies,

never hath cur Crummock had word of it.'

'A fool he, to set thee to spy upon a petticoat,' she answered

pleasantly.

'Woman,' he answered hotly, 'crowns I have made by making reports to

Privy Seal. I have set his men to watch doors and windows where none

came in or entered; I have reported treasons of men whose heads had

already fallen by the axe; I have told him of words uttered by maids

of honour whom he knew full well already miscalled him. Sometimes I

have had a crown or two from him, sometimes more; but no good man hath

been hurt by my spying.'

'Husband,' she uttered, with her face set expressionlessly, 'knew ye

that the Frenchman's cook that made the pudding pies had been taken

and cast into the Tower gaol?'

Udal's arms flew above his head; his eyes started from their sockets;

his tongue came forth from his pale mouth to lick his dry lips, and

his legs failed him so that he sat himself down, wavering from side to

side in the window-seat.

'Then the commentary of Plautus shall never be written,' he wailed. He

wrung his hands. 'Whom have they taken else?' he said. 'How knew ye

these things when I nothing knew? What make of house is this where

such things be known?'

'Husband,' she answered, 'this house is even an inn. Where many

travellers pass through, many secrets are known. I know of this cook's

fate since the fate of cooks is much spoken of in kitchens, and this

was the cook of a Frenchman, and this is France.'

'Save us, oh pitiful saints!' the magister whispered. 'Who else is

taken? What more do ye know? Many others have aided. I too. And there

be friends I love.'

'Husband,' she answered, 'I know no more than this: three days ago the

cook stood where now you stand----'

He clasped his hair so that his cap fell to the ground.

'Here!' he said. 'But he was in the Tower!'

'He was in the Tower, but stood here free,' she answered. Udal

groaned.

'Then he hath blabbed. We are lost.'

She answered:

'That may be the truth. But I think it is not. For so the matter is

that the cook told me.' He was taken and set in the Tower by the men

of Privy Seal. Yet within ten hours came the men of the King; these

took him aboard a cogger, the cogger took them to Calais, and at the

gate of Calais town the King's men kicked him into the country of

France, he having sworn on oath never more to tread on English soil.

Udal groaned.

'Aye! But what others were taken? What others shall be?'

She shook her head.

The report ran: a boy called Poins, a lady called Elliott, and a lady

called Howard. Yet all three drank the free air before that day at

nightfall.

Udal, huddled against the wall, took these blows of fate with a quiver

for each. In the back of the kitchen the servers, come down from the

meal of the Cleves envoy, made a great clatter with their dishes of

pewter and alloy. The hostess, working with her comfortable sway of

the hips, drove them gently through the door to let a silence fall;

but gradually Udal's jaw closed, his eyes grew smaller, he started

suddenly and the muscles of his knees regained their tension. The

hostess, swishing her many petticoats beneath her, sat down again on

the stool.

'_Insipiens et infacetus quin sum!_' the magister mused. 'Fool that I

am! Wherefore see I no clue?' He hung his head; frowned; then started

anew with his hand on his side.

'Wherefore shall I not read pure joy in this?' he said, 'save that

Austin waileth: "_Inter delicias semper aliquid saevi nos

strangulat_." I would be joyful--but that I fear.' Norfolk had come

upon an embassy here; then assuredly Cromwell's power waned, or never

had this foe of his been sent in this office of honour. The cook was

cast in the Tower, but set free by the King's men; young Poins was

cast too, but set free--the Lady Elliott--and the Lady Howard. What

then? What then?

'Husband,' she said, 'have you naught forgotten?'

Udal, musing with his hand upon his chin, shook his head negligently.

'I keep more track of the King's leman than thou, then,' she said.

'What was it Longstaffe said of her?'

'Nay,' Udal answered, 'so turned my bowels were with jealousy that

little I noted.'

'Why, you are a fine spy,' she said. And she repeated to him that

Longstaffe had reported the King's commanding Katharine and Privy Seal

to join hands and be friends. Udal shook his head gloomily.

'I would not have my best pupil friends with Cromwell,' he said.

'Oh, magister,' she retorted, with a first touch of scorn in her

voice; 'have you, who have had so much truck with women, yet to learn

that you may command a woman to be friends with a man, yet no power on

earth shall make her love him. Nevertheless, well might Cromwell seek

to win her love, and thence these pardons.'

Udal started forward upon his tiptoes.

'I must to London!' he cried. She smiled at him as at a child.

'You are come to be of my advice,' she said.

Udal gazed at her with a wondering patronage.

'Why, what a wench it is,' he said, and he crooked his arm around her

ample waist. His face shone with pleasure. 'Angel!' he uttered; 'for

Angelos is the Greek for messenger, and signifieth more especially one

that bringeth good tidings.' Out of all this holus bolus of envoys,

ambassadors, cooks and prisoners one thing appeared plain to view:

that, for the first time, _a solis ortus cardine_, Cromwell had

loosened his grip of some that he held. 'And if Crummock looseneth

grip, Crummock's power in the land waneth.'

She looked up at him with a coy pleasure.

'Hatest Cromwell then full fell-ly?' she asked.

He put his hands upon her shoulders and solemnly regarded her.

'Woman,' he said; 'this man rideth England with seven thousand spies;

these three years I have lived in terror of my life. I have had no

bliss that fear hath not entered into--in very truth _inter delicias

semper aliquid saevi nos strangulavit_.' His lugubrious tones grew

higher with hatred; he raised one hand above his head and one gripped

tight her fat shoulder. 'Terror hath bestridden our realm of England;

no man dares to whisper his hate even to the rushes. Me! Me! Me!' he

reached a pitch of high-voiced fury. 'Me! _Virum doctissimum!_ Me, the

first learned man in Britain, he did force to write a play in the

vulgar tongue. Me, a master of Latin, to write in English! I had

pardoned him my terror. I had pardoned him the heads of the good men

he hath struck off. For that princes should inspire terror is just,

and that the great ones of the earth should prey one upon the other is

a thing all history giveth precedent for since the days when Sylla

hunted to death Marius that sat amidst the ruins of Carthage. But that

the learned should be put to shame! that good letters should be cast

into the mire! History showeth no ensample of a man so vile since the

Emperor Alexander removed his shadow from before the tub of Diogenes.'

'In truth,' she said, blenching a little before his fury, 'I was ever

one that loved the rolling sound of your Greek and your Roman.'

'Give me my journey money,' he said, 'let me begone to England. For,

if indeed the Lady Katharine hath the King's ear, much may I aid her

with my counsels.'

She began to fumble in beneath her apron, and then, as if she

suddenly remembered herself, she placed her finger upon her lips.

'Husband,' she said, 'I have for you a gift. How it shall value itself

to you I little know, but I have before been much besought and offered

high payment for that which now I offer thee. Come.'

The finger still upon her plump lips, she led him to a small door

behind the chimney stack. They climbed up through cobwebs, ham,

flitches of smoked beef, and darkness, and the reek of wood-smoke,

until they came, high up, to a store-room in the slope of a mansard

roof. Light filtered dimly between the tiles, and many bales and sacks

lay upon the raftered floor like huge monsters in a huge, dim cave.

'Hearken! make no sound,' she whispered, and in the intense gloom they

heard a sullen, stertorous, intermittent rumble.

'The envoy sleeps,' she said. She set her eye to a knot-hole in the

planked wall. ''A sleeps!' she whispered. 'My pigling made a great

thirst in him. Much wine he drank. Set your eye to the knot-hole.'

With his face glued against the rough wood, the magister could see in

the large room a great fair man, in a great blue chair behind a

littered table. His head hung forward, shewed only a pink bald spot in

the thin hair, and brilliant red ears. A slow rumble of snoring came

for a long minute, then ceased for as long.

From behind Udal's back came a crash, and he started back to see the

large woman, who had overturned a chest.

'That is to test how he sleeps,' she said. 'See if he have moved.' The

man, plain to see through the knot-hole, had stirred no muscle; again

the heavy rumble of the snore came to them. She spoke quite loudly

now. 'Why, naught shall wake him these five hours. 'A hath bolted the

door; thus his secretaries shall not come to him. See now.'

She slid back a board in the wall, and Udal could see into what

appeared to be a cupboard filled with a litter of papers and of

parchments. Udal's heart began to beat so that he noted it there; his

eyes searched hers with a glittering excitement--nevertheless a half

fear of awakening the envoy kept him from speaking.

'Take them! Take them!' she nudged him with her elbow. 'Six hours ye

have to read and to copy.'

'What papers are these?' he muttered, his voice thick betwixt

incredulous joy and fear.

'They be the envoy's papers,' she said; 'doubtless these be his

letters to the king of this land.... What there may be I know not

else.'

Udal's hands were in at the hole with the swift clutch of a miser

visiting his treasure-chest. The woman surveyed him with pleasure and

with pride in her achievement, and with the calmness of routine she

fitted a bar across the door of the cupboard where it opened into the

envoy's room. Udal was fumbling already with the strings of a packet,

his eyes searching the superscription in the gloom.

'Six hours ye have to read and to copy,' she said happily, 'for, for

six hours the poppy seed in his wine that he drank shall surely keep

him snoring.' And, whilst they went again down the stairway, the

papers secreted beneath the magister's gown, she explained with her

pride and happiness. The aumbry was so contrived that any envoy or

secretary sleeping in her best room must needs put his papers therein,

since there was in the room no other chest that locked. And the King

of France's chancellors allotted to all envoys her hostelry for a

lodging; and once there, she made them heavy with wine and poppy seed

after a receipt she had from an Egyptian, and at the appointed time

the King of France's men came to read through the papers and to pay

her much money and many kisses.

* * * * *

It was six hours later that the magister stood in his own room

crushing a fillet of papers into the breast of his brown jerkin. The

hostess, walking always calmly as if disorder of the mind were a thing

she were a stranger to, had reclimbed the narrow stairway, replaced

the papers in the envoy's cupboard and returned to her husband. She

sought, mutely, for commendations, and he gave her them.

'Y'have made me the man that holds the secret of England's future,' he

said. 'All England that groans beneath Cromwell awaiteth to hear how

the cat jumps in Cleves. Now I know how the cat jumps in Cleves.'

She wiped the dust from her hands upon her apron.

'See that ye make good use of the knowledge,' she said. She considered

for a moment whilst he ferreted amongst his clothes in the great black

press beside the great white bed. 'I have long thought,' she said,

'that greatly might I be of service to a man of laws and of policies.

But I have long known that to serve a man is to have little reward

unless a woman tie him up in fast bonds----' He made one of his broad

gestures of negation, but she cut in upon his words: 'Aye, so it is. A

gossip may serve a man how she will, but once his occasion is past he

shall leave her in the ditch for the first fairer face. So I made

resolve to make such a man my husband, that his being advanced might

advance me. For, for sure this shall not be the last spying service I

shall do thee. Many envoys more shall be lodged in this house and many

more secrets ye shall learn.'

'Oh beloved Pandora!' he cried; 'opener of all secret places, caskets,

aumbries, caves of the winds, thrice blessed Sibyl of the keyhole!'

She nodded her head with grave contentment.

'I chose thee for thy resounding speeches,' she said. Her tranquillity

and her buxom pleasantness overcame him with sudden affection. He was

minded to tell her--because indeed she had made his fortunes for

him--that her marriage to him did not hold good since a friar had read

the rites.

'I chose thee for thy resounding speeches,' she said, 'and because art

so ill-clothed i' the ribs. Give me a thin man of policies to move my

bowels of compassion, say I.' For with her secret closets she might

make him stand well among the princes, and with her goodly capons set

grease upon his ribs, poor soul!

'Oh Guenevere!' he said; 'for was it not the queen of Arthur that made

bag-puddings for his starving knights?'

'Aye,' she said; 'great learning you possess.' A little moisture

bedewed her blue eyes. 'It grieves me that you must begone. I love to

hear thy broad o's and a's!'

'Then by all that is fattest in the land hight Cokaigne I will stay

here, thy dutiful goodman,' he said, and tears filled his own eyes.

'Oh nay,' she answered; 'you shall get yourself into the Chancellery,

and merry will we feast and devise beneath the gilded roofs.' Her eyes

sought the brown beams that ceiled the long room. 'I have heard that

chancellors have always gilded roofs.'

Again the tenderness overcame him for the touch of simple pride in her

voice. And the confession slipped from his lips:

'Poor befooled soul! Shalt never be a chancellor's dame.'

She was sobbing a little.

'Oh aye,' she said; 'thou shalt yet be chancellor, and I will baste

thy cooks' ribs an they baste not thy meat full well.' Such a man as

he would find favour with princes for his glosing tongue--aye, and

with queens too. At that she covered her face with her apron, and from

beneath it her voice came forth:

'If this Kat Howard come to be queen, shall not the old faith be

restored?'

The recollection of this particular certainty affected the magister

like a stab, for, if the old faith came back, then assuredly marriages

by friars should again be acknowledged. He cursed himself beneath his

breath: he was loath to leave the woman in the ditch, her trusting

face and pleasing ways stirred the strings of his heart. But he was

more than loath that the wedding should hold a wedding. He shook his

perplexity from him with starting towards the door.

'Time to be gone!' he said, and added, 'Be certain and take care that

no Englishman heareth of wedding betwixt thee and me.' It must in

England work his sure undoing.

She removed her apron and nodded gravely.

'Aye,' she said, 'that is certain enow with Court ladies, such as they

be to-day.' But she asked that when he went among women she should

hear nothing of it. For she had had three husbands and several

courtiers to prove it upon, that it is better to be lied to than to

know truth.

'There is in the world no woman like to thee!' he said with a great

sincerity. Once more she nodded.

'Aye, that is the lie that I would hear,' she said. On his part, he

started suddenly with pain.

'But thee!' he uttered.

'Aye,' she cried again, 'that too is needed. But be very certain of

this, that not easily will I plant upon thy brow that which most

husbands wear!' She paused, and once more rubbed her hands. Courteous

she must be, since her calling called therefor. But assuredly, having

had three husbands, she had had embraces enow to crave little for men.

And, if she did that which few good women have a need to--save very

piteous women in ballads--she would suffer him to belabour her;--she

nodded again--'And that to a man is a great solace.'

He fled with precipitancy from the thought of this solace, brushing

through the narrow passages, stalking across the great guest-chamber

and the greater kitchen where, in the falling dusk, the fires glowed

red upon the maids' faces and the cooks' aprons, the smoke rose

unctuously upward tended with rich smells of meat, and the windjacks

clanked in the chimneys. She trotted behind him, weeping in the

gloaming.

'If you come to be chancellor in five years,' she whimpered, 'I shall

come across the seas to ye. If ye fail, this shall be your plenteous

house.'

Whilst she hung round his neck in the shadowy courtyard and he had

already one foot in the stirrup, she begged for one more great speech.

'Before Jupiter!' he said, 'I can think of none for crying!'

The big black horse, with its bags before and behind the saddle,

stirred, so that, standing upon one foot, he fell away from her. But

he swung astride the saddle, his cloak flying, his long legs clasping

round the belly. It reared and pawed the twilight mists, but he smote

it over one ear with his palm, and it stood trembling.

'This is a fine beast y'have given me,' he said, pleasure thrilling

his limbs.

'I have given it a fine rider!' she cried. He wheeled it near her and

stooped right down to kiss her face. He was very sure in his saddle,

having learned the trick of the stirrup from old Rowfant, that had

taught the King.

'Wife,' he said, 'I have bethought me of this: _Post equitem

sedet_----' He faltered--'_sedet--Behind the rider sitteth_--But for

the life of me I know not whether it be _atra cura_ or no.'

And, as he left Paris gates behind him and speeded towards the black

hills, bending low to face the cold wind of night, for the life of him

he knew not whether black care sat behind him or no. Only, as night

came down and he sped forward, he knew that he was speeding for

England with the great news that the Duke of Cleves was seeking to

make his peace with the Emperor and the Pope through the mediancy of

the king of that land and, on the soft road, the hoofs of the horse

seemed to beat out the rhythm of the words:

'Crummock is down: Cromwell is down. Crummock is down: Cromwell is

down.'

He rode all through the night thinking of these things, for, because

he carried letters from the English ambassador to the King of England,

the gates of no small town could stay his passing through.