"Nay, have no fear, sweet girl, for, look you, I am fully armed and care
for no man. But, say, how shall I get into the room through such a
press?"
"Why, if you must really go," said she, "I will take you through the
antechamber, and that will bring you well into the room, not far from
where the Duke is sitting."
"Most excellent!" quoth I. "I pray you lead the way at once, dear
Miriam."
She turned as if to go, then stopped and gazed upon me in a sad,
reproachful fashion.
"Michael," she murmured, "how can you talk of seeing fun when your poor
father is thus lying----"
"Stop! stop!" I broke in swiftly. "We will not speak of that, dear
girl. You do not understand. It may be that I seek to drown my
thoughts. Lead on, I pray you."
And so I followed Miriam, and was ushered in.
*CHAPTER XIII*
*In the Great Room--and Afterwards*
The room was packed; and never saw I such a piteous sight as was
presented by that crowd of gaping, moon-struck faces, which, as it
seemed to me, stared forth like poor penned cattle into certain doom.
On each was writ in fatal characters the one word--Death! Yet all were
mighty eager to be signing on; in truth, by the pressing and the
jostling it might have been the statutes at a fair.
On a little platform at one end of the room, and not far from where I
was standing, sat Monmouth with his officers--Lord Grey, Fletcher of
Saltoun, Old Dare (as he was called), the Taunton goldsmith, and others
whom I knew not. The Duke, all smiles and bows, watched everything with
eager, anxious eyes, and even spoke a word or two when one big strapping
fellow, towering high above the rest of them, stepped up to volunteer.
But for me there was small interest either in Monmouth or those who
flocked to serve him. My eyes were fixed upon a wry-wigged gentleman
who sat before a little table taking down the names. Yes, there, in all
his blotch-faced ugliness--a hulking, bony, ill-dressed heap of
perfidy--sat Robert Ferguson, the Plotter. His pen was whirling like a
windmill; he seemed to catch a name up with the feather of his quill and
run it down on paper wellnigh as soon as it was spoken; and all the time
he never ceased to jerk forth jests and mock encouragement to those who,
in their ignorance, were little more than clay within his hands. Thus,
as I entered, he was saying:
"Come on, my friends, come on! Ah, what amazing, lovely zeal is this
which moves your hearts! Fear not, the Lord of Hosts is with us, as the
Scripture hath it, and verily we must prevail. The next--the next! ...
Now, by my life, if such a fine upstanding man as thou shouldst not be
captain in a month or so! Yes ... yes ... or more, perchance. Come on!
the next! Oh, who shall stand against such zeal as this upon the day of
battle? Ah, who, indeed? Not those, I trow, whose hands are stained
with blood! Not those who have forsworn the Lord of Hosts and set up
their abominations in high places. Not those, I say, not those! The
next, the next! Come on, I pray you, speedily, or we shall hear the
cock crow ere we've finished. What's that you say, friend? Yes, yes, I
have you down quite clearly to the very letter: Uriah Smite--and may you
smite full lustily! That is a merry jest, but something to the point, I
vow. Back, friend, I pray you, and make room for him who stands
behind.... Ah, what's that? You fought with Cromwell, say you? Truly,
a handsome warrant for your zeal; and may you fight as well for us.
Grey hairs, when mixed with zeal and wisdom, count for much. And as for
that sword-cut on your face, well, what adornment could outvie it in
true loveliness? ...
"Next, next! Remember that there is something for you all. Here a
little--there a little--everywhere a little, and much for those as are
right valiant. The Duke is not one to forget, I tell you. No, no, the
sowers shall indeed reap heavily! What now, there, you who hold back,
muttering? Hath Satan put a craven fear within your hearts? If so,
take courage from my case. Look on me! I'm that man, that Ferguson,
for whose unworthy life five hundred pounds were offered. Yea, I am he
who years ago was driven forth from England, as a thing accurst, by
those whose wickedness rose up to heaven like foul black smoke. I say
again, I am that man, that Ferguson, who was accounted carrion for the
evil-doers, a thing to be cast out and trodden underfoot like Jezebel of
old. Yet here am I this day among you, called forth to be the scourge
of them who would have slain me. What then! will you, whose road to
victory is as broad and easy as the king's highway--will you, I say,
hold back like frightened sheep when such a work is calling? Nay, nay,
methinks I read a better tale than that upon your faces! Again, I say
the Lord of Hosts is on our side, and your enemies shall crumple up
before you like a scroll of parchment. Hark to the shouts of them who
press behind you in the street! 'A Monmouth! True religion! Liberty!
Down with the Scarlet Woman!' Ah, friends, what sweet, melodious,
heavenly music! It sounds like Miriam's song of victory in mine ears!
Come on, come boldly on, and let there be no Didymus among us!"
I will not weary you with more of the amazing wretch's sayings; but for
me, who watched and listened, and knew him for the foul, cold-blooded
murderer he was, his every word and movement were alive with grim
suggestiveness. In very truth he held me spellbound as a thing scarce
human. It seemed as though the Evil One himself sat there taking toll
for Hades.
Nor was it less astonishing to note the swaying power he exercised upon
a crowd of stalwart, sinewy fellows, who, had they known him rightly,
might have torn him limb from limb. His strength in this respect made
Monmouth and the rest of them appear like grinning images, whose fate
this wicked, frowsy villain juggled with like dice. And as I watched
him the desire to put a bullet through his wicked head grew stronger
every moment. His ugly, working mouth was what I would have aimed for,
and more than once my fingers crept towards a pistol-stock; but, verily,
the crowd which was for ever moving straight in front of me would have
made shooting something of a risky business even had the power of
self-restraint been lacking; and so I stood there with my back against
the wall and feasted greedily on Ferguson's each word and movement.
When he had filled a sheet 'twas handed to a messenger, who took it to
the town hall, followed by the men whose names it bore, who there
received their arms and so passed on to drill.
It was during one of these short breaks that the Duke held up his hand
and said:
"Remember, we have arms for all who join--that is, for any number."
"Yes, yes," cried Ferguson, "for thousands! Muskets, pistols, armour
plates, and swords for all! And will ye not look fine, my bonnie men?
Arms for thousands, arms for thousands, as His Grace the Duke hath
said!"
Now this was very far from being true, as those who had to fight with
scythes and sickles, bound on staves, were soon to prove; but now the
statement was received with shouts of joy, and as the news passed out
into the street a deafening babel rent the air.
The Duke smiled glowingly; the chaplain waved his pen; while those in
front, whose heads had spoilt my view, moved quickly to the table. At
the same time Monmouth raised his eyes in my direction, looked at me
enquiringly a moment, then, seeing that I did not move, held up a
beckoning hand and said:
"What now, young man? You are the very kind we need. Why, then, hold
back? Are you not for us?"
The chaplain's pen stopped writing, and all eyes were turned upon me.
Uncovering, I stepped up to the table.
"No, my lord," I answered with a sweeping bow. "I am for neither side at
present."
"Ah, that is badly put, young man," said Monmouth smiling. "For, look
you, friend, the middle of the road is empty in this matter."
"Aye, verily," snapped Ferguson, casting a swift glance at me from
beneath his ragged wig. "His Grace speaks truly. 'Choose ye this day
whom ye will serve'--friend--as the Scripture hath it."
"Methinks we sometimes twist the Scriptures to our use," I answered,
staring at him fixedly. "Even a murderer might find some text to serve
him if he searched for it," I added in a lower voice.
"How now, friend?" put in Monmouth smilingly. "You come here fully
armed, the very picture of the man we need, and yet you say you are for
neither side! What, then, brings you hither?"
"Mere curiosity, my lord; a wish to see, that is," I answered.
"Or a wish to spy--which?" sneered Ferguson, stabbing his pen into the
ink-horn.
I was hard put to it to keep my fingers off his throat, and, indeed, I
only saved myself by locking them behind me. Bending over him I
answered slowly:
"No, sir, I am no spy. I leave such dirty work for those whose nature
suits them to it."
The chaplain strove to hide a start by dipping savagely into the horn
again, then cast a swift, uneasy glance at me, and said:
"We are not here to deal in parables, but men, nor have we time to waste
on empty words. If you be not for joining us, make way for those that
are. Next! Next!"
He waved his quill as though dismissing me.
"Stay! one moment, friend!" cried Monmouth. "I pray you give your name,
and say how 'tis that one so likely---- Aye, I would promise you a
cornetcy--is that so, my lord?--(he turned to Grey, who nodded)--ah,
yes, a cornetcy--if not a captaincy. How is it then, I say, that one so
likely hesitates to join our righteous cause?"
"My lord, my name is Michael Fane," I answered, dwelling on the latter
words.
The chaplain's pen, which had set out to write my name, stopped with a
spluttering squeak and made an ugly blot instead. Its owner started,
and though he did not raise his face, it seemed to me as if the blotch
thereon lost something of its bloodlike redness. I cast a searching
glance at him and then went on again: "As for your other question, my
lord, I deal not with a cause that sets up murderous villains in high
places."
The crowd behind me buzzed with startled wonder; I saw Lord Grey and
Fletcher whisper eagerly together; while Old Dare scratched his
short-cropped head in great perplexity. As for the Duke, he coloured
somewhat, and, leaning forward in his chair, regarded me with marked
uneasiness. It may be that my words had brought back to his memory a
lawless deed of his wild early days, when, in some drunken prank, he
killed a beadle up in London. I know not; but at any rate his look was
something of a guilty one, and he was fain to run a hand across his face
ere he could regain his easy self-composure.
"Murderous villains in high places!" echoed he at last. "Those are
strong words, young man. What mean you by them?"
"Alas! my lord, I mean exactly what I say," I answered firmly. "I mean
that you have one about your person, holding high estate, who is not fit
to sit with honest men, much less to be a counsellor in great affairs."
"Ah, then, I pray you name the murderous villain," quoth the Duke, with
mocking emphasis upon the last two words, and also, as it seemed, with
some relief at finding that it was not he.
I paused a moment, thinking swiftly, and, while I did so, Ferguson sat
there below me in an agony of guilty fear. I knew it by the way he
gnawed the feather of his pen and hooked his long thin legs together.
What, then? If I denounced him on the spot, who would believe me? No
one; for what proof had I to offer? None. Again, if I drew a pistol
suddenly and shot him (as I could have done), I knew my fate was sealed.
The wild, benighted crowd behind, who looked upon him as a miracle of
strength and godliness, would kill me in a twinkling. Therefore:
"No, by your leave, my lord," I said, "I will not name him now. This is
no place for doing so, nor would it serve my purpose just at present.
Time and other things will surely name him quick enough."
An angry growl ran through the room, and things looked ugly; but at that
moment a man I knew leaned over Ferguson and whispered quickly in his
ear. The chaplain nodded eagerly; then, turning to the Duke, said:
"By your leave, my lord, I understand the matter fully now. This poor
young fellow" (here he waved his pen at me, but did not dare to look)
"lost his father suddenly this morning, and doubtless such a shock
hath----" he tapped his head and added: "Yes, 'tis plain enough."
"Ah! if that be true----" began the Duke in no unkindly voice.
"'Tis true in part, my lord," I broke in scornfully, "as far as it
regards my loss, that is. The other is rank folly. I vow my head is
quite as sound and clear as this your godly chaplain's. For the rest, I
would repeat my warning. Scripture hath fluttered somewhat freely here
to-night, therefore, I pray you, let me add my quota to it, namely:
'Beware of those who come to you in sheep's clothing, but inwardly are
ravening wolves'. Yea, have a care, my lord. I wish you well."
With that I bowed, took one last look at Ferguson, then, passing through
the crowd, went forth as I had come, and left them to their own devices.
Being in no mood for conversation, I turned towards the kitchen regions,
hoping thus to slip out unobserved, except by servants, with whom there
was no need to traffic. Kind fortune favoured me in this respect, for,
save a hot, perspiring scullion, I met no one, and so I gained my quiet,
lonely street again without the utterance of a word.
Oh, how fresh and sweet the cool air was after that crowded, reeking
room! I drank it in like nectar, and felt mightily refreshed. What
next? Whither should I go? The thought of home (two days before the
dearest place on earth for me) was now abhorrent to my soul. The hum of
whispering, mournful voices; the reddened eyes that followed me about
with pitying looks--nay, by my life I would not, could not face them.
To be alone, to think in solitude, was what I needed. Just then the
murmur of the sea broke in upon my ears. Ah! what better place than
that? I had communed with it, told it many a secret in the past, and
now it seemed like some old friend who would not fail me in the hour of
need.
Striking across some fields, in order to avoid the town, I made a wide
sweep for the eastern shore. To do this I must needs go through the
churchyard, and there I chanced upon the sexton finishing a grave--whose
I knew full well. I did not stop, but, as I passed, the old man raised
a sweating face to glance at me; then, seeing who it was, he touched a
dripping forelock, shook his head, and, mumbling sadly, bent o'er his
task again; while I--with what black thoughts you may imagine--descended
by a narrow cliff-path to the beach, and set off swiftly towards
Charmouth.
Dusk was now falling fast, and as I strode along, scarce knowing
whither, the cool breeze fanned my burning cheeks refreshingly, the
ceaseless thunder of a full-tide sea fell like some soothing music on my
ears, until at length a strange deep calm came stealing over me.
Rousing myself, I took a backward glance (I know not why), and saw two
figures--blurred and indistinct by such a failing light--following in
the distance far behind. "Two Charmouth fishers going home," thought I.
"Wise men, who will not risk their necks e'en for the pretty Duke of
Monmouth." With that I clean dismissed them from my mind, and so
pressed on again.
In this aloof, abstracted state I must have gone two miles or more,
when, coming to a low, inviting rock, I sat down thereon and let my
thoughts go wandering where they pleased. A silver moon tipped Gold
Cap; the waves broke loudly close beneath my feet, and cast their
welcome spray right over me. I seemed a part of nature, nothing else.
The blackened past--Ammon, Ferguson, my father's death, and even that
which had just happened in the Great Room at the "George"--all these
were like so many ugly dreams from which I should awake to find my old
sweet life the only real thing.
How long I sat there brooding thus I know not; but suddenly my reverie
was broken by a sound like that of footsteps close enough to be just
hearable above the turmoil of the waves. "Ah! they of Charmouth,"
thought I; and with that was about to turn and look, when, like a flash,
two men rushed in upon me from behind.
*CHAPTER XIV*
*"Zion!"*
Even great strength (as mine then was) when taken unawares avails but
little; and so, ere ever I could move--much less draw a weapon--I was
borne down, crashing on the shingle; and there I lay, stretched out upon
my back, with two great lusty knaves above me. One of them had a knee
upon my chest and pinned my arms down, while the other threw his weight
upon my legs; and thus, although I wrenched and strained (not caring to
be mastered like a sheep), and made the villains hiss forth oaths, my
struggles gained me naught beyond a woeful loss of breath. Indeed, such
posture, with that crushing knee upon my breast, was hopeless, as anyone
is free to prove who cares to try it. Besides, the horrors of the night
before, coupled with loss of rest, had left their mark upon me;
therefore, 'tis little to my shame to state that I was vanquished.
Panting, I lay and stared into the face that almost touched my own. The
moonlight showed it to me as a coarse one, blotched and hairy; while
there was that about the eyes which spoke of desperate deeds, and life
held cheap as dust. In truth, the man looked a ruffian of the lowest
kind, who would have bartered whatsoever soul he had for money. I
doubted not whose tools both he and his companion were.
"Well, and what now?" I asked, as well as want of breath would let me.
Grinning, he pressed still harder on my chest, and answered:
"Well said! What now?"
"Off with that knee of yours," I gasped, "unless you wish to kill me."
"Well, now, it might e'en go as far as that. Can't say. Hi! Dick," he
called across his shoulder to the other, "take you his sword and
pistols."
Forthwith my legs were loosed, and, thus freed, I would certainly have
broke out struggling afresh, had not the galling knee made closer
friendship with my heart until it wellnigh stopped its beating.
"Brute!" I gasped again, "you're killing me."
"Nay, not yet, methinks," quoth he, biting his lip and gloating o'er my
agony. "Hold you his left hand, and gi' me a pistol, Dick," he added,
with another cruel jab that fairly made me groan.
The other, who had withdrawn my weapons, hasted to obey, and next moment
I was staring up the barrel of a pistol which threatened me between the
eyes.
"Make one sound," hissed my tormentor savagely, "and there's a bullet
through your head in no time."
His face endorsed the statement, and certainly I was not going to put it
to the proof. At least his knee had left my chest, and for so much I
was more than thankful. I took a long, deep breath, then gazed at each
of them intently, as they knelt beside me, holding down my hands and
threatening me with pistols--and those, alas! my own. Both were as
ill-favoured, wicked-looking rascals as one could hope to see, armed
with swords and knives, hired desperadoes fit for anything. In truth,
things had an ugly look enough, but I was minded to know something of my
future fate if it were possible.
"Well, and what next?" I asked.
"You come with us," said he who had been kneeling on me.
"Ah! and where to?"
"Where bidden and where led."
"Who sent you on this business?"
"That's our concern. Ask no more questions."
I had no wish to do so; and, indeed, I knew the answer to my last one
just as well as they did. Yes, their master's name was graven on their
evil faces. The tools of Ferguson were not to be mistaken.
"Wilt let me rise?" I asked.
Their answer was to free my arms and draw back a little, though still
covering me with both pistols. So I sat up and stared at them afresh,
the while I strove to form swift plans for their destruction. But this
seemed hopeless beyond measure, for my sword lay well behind them; I had
no weapon save my fists, and what were they against two pistol bullets,
which the slightest threatening movement would most assuredly bring
crashing through my skull? Nor would a shout for help be any less
disastrous, even supposing help were to be had in such a lonely place at
such a time. But I had little chance to think upon such profitless
affairs, for, bringing the pistol nearer to my face, the leader said:
"Put your hands close together, that we may bind them. The rope, Dick!"
There being nothing else for it, I instantly obeyed, and held them out;
while the man he called Dick brought forth a knot of cord and hasted to
unwind it. Thus it seemed that, notwithstanding all my strength, I
should soon be bound and helpless--entirely at the mercy of these two
conspiring villains. But in that pressing moment some words of Coram's
flashed into my brain.
"Stay!" I said, "there's surely some mistake."
He with the rope grinned mockingly, while his companion jerked the
pistol threateningly and growled:
"What's that? What mean you?"
"Why, this," I answered, lowering my hands apart. "'Twere well to make
quite sure of things before you act."
"What riddle's that?" asked he.
"No riddle," I replied. "A warning. Again I say, there's some mistake
about this matter."
"Pish!" quoth he, "I'll take my chance of that. There's no mistake, I
fancy, save on your side. Keep a still tongue, and hold your hands out.
Dick, do you bind him instantly, We've lost good time enough already."
"All right!" I put in, as the other bent to do his work; "but don't
blame me when it turns out that you have bound the wrong man after all."
Both started somewhat.
"Wrong man!" mocked he who held the pistol. "Not much, I fancy. A spy,
a dangerous malcontent, an enemy to Monmouth's cause! What say you?"
"Why, this," said I, "that I am neither, therefore have a care.
Listen," I went on slowly; "do enemies of Monmouth know his secret
passwords?--Zion!"
The cord which had gone once around my wrists dropped off; the pistol
jerked aside. With my left hand I struck the would-be binder in the
chest and sent him flying backwards; while with my right I seized the
barrel of the pistol. It went off with a deafening bang, and the
bullet, missing my head by scarce an inch, went singing to the cliffs
behind. Leaping up I wrenched the smoking weapon from its holder's grasp
and brought the butt-end down with all my might upon his shoulder.
With a loud, fierce cry he staggered back, thus giving me the chance I
needed. Snatching up the other pistol and my sword, which lay close by
the water, I took a hurried aim at him; but the spray had got into the
pan, and so when I pulled the trigger nothing came of it except a flash
of flint and steel. Casting the faithless thing away, I turned a keen
look on my foes. Their amaze was great, nor do I wonder at it, for
indeed the change had been both sudden and bewildering. Thus for a
moment we stood staring at each other, then out flew their swords.
Now, two to one is no great odds provided that the one cannot be taken
in the rear; but as I then stood such a thing was more than possible.
Therefore I made a sudden rush between the half-dazed fellows, and
reaching the cliffs, which rose some dozen yards behind, stood with my
back thereto and faced them.
"Come on!" I shouted, jeeringly. "The sooner this is settled now the
better!"
At first they did not move, but stood there staring in the moonlight,
dumbstricken as it seemed by such a turning of the tables. Then they
came on slowly, cautiously, their heads thrust forward and their swords
held back.
I waited for them eagerly, with blade-point lowered, impatient of their
slowness and the space that lay betwixt us. Here was the very thing I
longed for, sure enough--a clean, straight sword-fight--no one to
disturb us, a kindly moon by way of light, and risk enough to make the
matter pleasant. 'Twas as near as I could get to Robert Ferguson just
then; besides, I owed these his varlets something, and was minded to
repay the debt with usury.
On they came, creeping step by step, as though expecting I might rush
upon them, until they were within three yards of me, and there they
stopped. Then he whose knee I had such painful knowledge of made shift
to speak.
"Hearken!" said he. "Wilt yield, or must we kill thee?"
"That is a question easy of the answering," said I. "Kill me if you can;
but as for yielding--go to, now, act like men, not craven cowards.
Fight, I say!"