SIR WILLIAM WINS A WAGER
SIMON RABY stood only a moment on the threshold; a single glance at the
interior of the room, at Betty, at Master Cross-Eyes, lying prostrate,
and at the furious face of Henge, sufficed to tell him all. The next
instant his sword flashed in the air like a ribbon of steel, and he
sprang upon Sir Barton with the fury of revenge.
“You villain!” he cried, “was it not enough to send me to the Tower,
but you must also insult and injure women?”
“Curse you!” answered Henge, between his teeth, “this shall be the end
of you, you fool!”
“By heaven!” exclaimed Raby, as their swords crossed, “’twill be either
you or I!”
Both were powerful men and good swordsmen, and it being the second
time that they had fought, each knew something of the other’s play.
Henge was spent from his struggle with the groom and Raby had felt the
effects of the long imprisonment, but both fought with furious zeal,
and knowing that death was in the issue, they put out all their skill.
Foot to foot and eye to eye, they thrust and parried; Raby taking
the offensive and using the point as he endeavored to strike under
his adversary’s guard, but Henge was one of the finest swordsmen of
the court and parried every blow with marvellous rapidity and skill.
The breath of both came short, the drops of perspiration gathered on
Henge’s forehead, while Lord Raby’s face paled about the lips. It was
but the different way in which each showed the strain. So determined
was Simon’s onset, that he drove Sir Barton back step by step toward
the table, meaning to trip him and so have him at his mercy; but Henge
knew the trap that was set for him and swerved to one side, dealing
at the same instant so dexterous a blow that he nearly disarmed his
opponent. There was no sound in the room but the clash of swords and
the labored breathing of the two combatants. It was a spectacle worth
seeing, the equal contest of two expert fencers. For a few moments
Betty Carew had remained at her post by the window, so amazed at Raby’s
entrance, so alarmed for his safety, that it paralyzed her senses. But
at the sight of Sir Barton’s apparent gain, she awoke from her trance
and ran to them, throwing herself on Henge’s sword arm with all her
strength; but he took his weapon in his left hand and parried Raby’s
blows while endeavoring to shake her off.
“Let be, my darling!” Simon cried; “I dare not strike freely with you
in the way; let be--and I will end it.”
But Mistress Betty would scarcely have obeyed him but for the sound of
footsteps on the stairs. She ran out into the hall to learn whether it
was friend or foe, and saw, to her amazement, old Madam’s hawk face
upon the landing, and behind her the captain of the watch and two more
armed men. Betty cried out with joyful surprise.
“Help, help!” she exclaimed, “here is the villain Henge trying to
murder Simon Raby.”
“This all comes of Raby’s mad haste!” retorted Lady Crabtree; “’tis
ever so with fools and lovers.”
But while she stayed to scold, the captain of the watch and Betty had
hurried back into the room. As they reached the entrance, however,
there was a heavy fall, and they found Simon Raby standing with his
foot on Sir Barton’s breast and the point of his sword at his throat,
while Master Cross-Eyes, who had recovered from his swoon, sat up,
staring blankly at the changed scene. The captain of the watch uttered
an exclamation and hurried forward.
“Have you killed him, my lord?” he asked.
Henge lay so still that Raby stirred him with his foot.
“I know not,” he answered; “he has a thrust below the collar bone, but
I think ’tis too high for his heart. I got a blow under his guard and
he went down like a sack of salt, and has not opened his eyes since.”
“’Twas a pity to kill him,” the officer said, laying his hand on the
fallen man’s heart; “my lord privy seal would have him taken alive at
all costs.”
The room began to fill with strangers, twenty torches and lanterns
were about it and on the stairs; the court was thronged with a gaping
crowd that fell back to let two new-comers pass, Sir William Carew
and Cromwell. Some one had run for a leech, and the little man came
hurrying in with his bag and knelt on the other side of Henge, opposite
the captain. Old Madam was there, her farthingale tucked up and her
great boots showing, and Betty Carew stood leaning on the arm of Lord
Raby, who had no eyes save for her, and was whispering in her ear fond
and joyful words while the others gathered around Henge. There was
silence and confusion, however, when my lord privy seal entered with
Carew.
“Ah, this is blundering work!” Cromwell exclaimed, at the sight of the
prostrate figure; “this man was needed by the State. Who did this?”
Raby stood forth, and in a moment the light of all the torches was
centered on his pale face and disordered dress.
“My lord,” he said, “’twas I who disobeyed your instructions. When I
received the warning, sent by one of this villain’s grooms, I ran with
all speed to the house, and hearing a cry for help, came in, the door
being unlocked, as had been promised. I found this devil here, trying
to keep this young lady a prisoner. We fought and he fell; I knew not
that I had seriously hurt him.”
Cromwell was watching the doctor, who had his ear against Sir Barton’s
breast.
“Is he gone?” he asked sharply.
“Nay, my lord,” replied the physician, looking up; “he lives, but he is
sorely wounded and stunned too, by striking his head on the table as he
fell.”
“Use your skill to save him,” said Cromwell, coldly; “the State
requires this witness.” Then turning to Raby, “My lord, matters
standing as they do, I pardon you; but never try to cheat the headsman,
albeit ’tis the natural office of a good knight to rescue distressed
demoiselles, and this fair lady merited the service at your hands,
having ever been a suitor for you, even to the king’s grace. Sir
William,” he went on, “how came this ending to the muddle?”
“My lord, I caught Raby’s servant, Shaxter, early in the evening,
and, as you know, my Lady Crabtree and I soon found a way to make him
confess that Henge had bribed him to change the packet that I gave to
Raby for one that Henge had full of treasonable matter. Shaxter changed
the packets when he helped his master to dress, just before he was
arrested.”
“Ay, arrested at the complaint of Henge, who came to me with every
protest of loyalty; not that he deceived me,” Cromwell added, “but
the papers found on Lord Raby did mightily confirm his words. I know
how you brought the villain Shaxter to me when I had Raby at my house
for private examination; it was a happy matter that I could at once
release him, but how came this villain’s schemes to-night to miscarry
so?”
“His servants were all false to him,” Sir William answered, “and one
of them sent us warning that he intended to carry off my niece, whom
he has ever claimed as his affianced wife because of an old contract
made when she was born. I know not yet which varlet of his did us this
signal service.”
Cromwell’s keen eyes alighted on Master Cross-Eyes, who sat leaning on
the table, too badly hurt to rise, but overlooked in the tumult.
“Ah, who is this?” asked the privy seal; “how many were in this affray?”
Betty Carew came forward now and answered for her champion.
“Sir,” she said eagerly, “but for that man I should scarcely have
escaped so soon. He took my part, and fought with Henge in my behalf,
and from my heart I thank him.”
“Is it so?” exclaimed Cromwell, glancing in some surprise at the
unpleasing aspect of the man; “what say you, knave, how came you to
serve this lady?”
Master Cross-Eyes looked up without any change in the sullen expression
of his face.
“The young mistress saved me from the hangman when yonder big-nosed
woman would have put a halter on my neck,” he retorted bluntly,
conscious that his night’s work would protect him; “and I sent the
warning to Sir William, despatched my comrades, who hated Henge, for he
was ever a hard master, full of blows and curses and slow to pay, and I
stayed to protect Mistress Carew.”
“By Saint Thomas, ’tis the valiant beggar that I had scourged at
Wildrick!” cried old Madam; “may Heaven forgive me for it! You shall
have a gold piece for every blow and more,” she added. “Here, Sir
Leech, look to his wounds at my cost.”
“His service has atoned his fault,” Cromwell said gravely; “but look
you, varlet, being strong enough to fight and shrewd enough to catch a
traitor, if you do not work henceforth, you shall hang at Tyburn.”
“My lord,” interposed Raby, “he will be taken into my service for his
lifetime, and that is not enough to pay the debt.”
“Ay,” said Carew, “and he is like to make a better servant than the
knave we have in jail, who served you as I foretold. My lord, you owe
me the wager.”
“It shall be paid,” Raby answered heartily; “yet do I think you never
dreamed that he was as bad as he has proved.”
“’Tis as I told you,” Sir William retorted dryly.
While this was passing, Cromwell gave some brief directions to the
captain of the watch and his assistants, who were lifting Henge’s still
unconscious form upon a stretcher.
“To the Tower,” said the king’s minister, “and keep him safe; to-morrow
he will have to answer to the Council if he lives,--he and Zachary
Sanders.”
Lord Raby had tenderly placed the mantle about Betty’s shoulders and
drawn her arm through his, for they were all preparing to leave the
house. Cromwell, turning from his talk with the officers, looked at the
lovers, and a smile lighted up for a moment the stern reserve of his
strong face.
“My Lord Raby,” he said quietly, “never, I think, had man better cause
to bless his fate for giving him a faithful heart. This lady hath been
untiring, brave, and loyal in her suit for you. Save for her, the
king’s grace would scarcely have thought of your cause in this sad
hour, when the Queen of England lies dead at Hampton Court. Fair and
faithful Mistress Carew,” he added, bowing low over Betty’s hand, “I
have had to fulfil an unpleasant office; the king’s servant must do
his duty even though he should break a woman’s heart; but never yet
have I done mine so heavily as when I turned a deaf ear to your suit. I
shall take it ill if you ask me not to the wedding.”