"Now, Tom, keep your eyes well open. He is about to appear!"
Tom was standing, tall and silent, feeling singularly out of place
in that gorgeous company, in a magnificent reception room,
brilliantly lighted, and crowded from one end to the other with a
throng of highly-born and fashionable persons.
He had been introduced by Lord Claud into this gay assembly, and
was already half disposed to wish himself away.
Tom had been several weeks in town now; and after his first
encounter with Lord Claud, which had led to such close intimacy for
a few days, he had seen nothing of that remarkable personage for
the space of two or three weeks.
Although perhaps a little piqued that his patron had not sent him
so much as a line of invitation, or seemed to remember his
existence, Tom was not sure that he regretted his lack of memory.
Lord Claud had certainly fascinated his imagination, and won his
affections; but he seemed to be a mysterious character, whose
friendship might not prove too desirable a possession. It was not
his place, he thought, with the simple pride of the countryman, to
seek to thrust himself upon a man so much greater than himself. So
he had gone about seeing the sights of the town with Harry Gay,
spending his money with some freedom, and indulging in a little
play and dicing at various houses of entertainment. But he kept
within moderate bounds in his pleasures, both because he desired to
eke out his funds as far as possible, and because he did not wish
to fall under the displeasure of his kind host, Master Cale, the
father of pretty Rosamund.
Tom thought a good deal about Rosamund during the week, and
regarded Sunday as the red-letter day of his calendar. Master Cale
did not forbid him to be of their company upon the afternoons when
they walked abroad, and he and the maid were excellent friends by
this time, and exchanged many gay quips and sallies together.
Rosamund always made him tell the story of his past week in some
detail; and Tom had therefore another motive for keeping free from
scenes and company which would have made his story unfit hearing
for her pretty ears.
Already he had begun to think that when he had travelled and seen
the world, and was ready to go home and take up the duties which at
five and twenty would devolve upon him, he would return with far
greater contentment and pleasure if he could take back Rosamund as
his wife. He could not fancy that any life would be dull and
monotonous shared with her, nor any home dreary that was lightened
by the sunshine of her presence.
The image of Rosamund had begun almost to obliterate that of Lord
Claud in his imagination, when suddenly one day he found himself
again in company of that gentleman at the coffee house he generally
frequented.
Lord Claud laid a friendly hand upon his shoulder, saying, with a
light laugh:
"O Tom, Tom, whom I called so trusty, I fear me you are as fickle
as any maid! But what does the prophet when the mountain will not
come to him? He even puts his pride in his pocket and goes to the
mountain. You are a solid mountain in your way, good Tom; and here
is the prophet come after you!"
Tom looked up, half ashamed, half flattered, the charm of Lord
Claud's presence beginning at once to make itself felt.
"My lord, I could not think you wanted such a humble person as
myself! And you had but to send me a line to Master Cale's if you
did," he stammered.
Lord Claud dropped into the seat next him, laughing a light,
low-toned laugh.
"I like your simplicity, my honest Tom. Keep it as long as you can;
for it is a quality rarely met with in these days, and smells as
sweet as lavender in country gardens. I have not been wont to need
to ask my friends to visit me. They swarm about my rooms like bees
round honey, so long as there be honey to gather from my hive. How
do you think you are going to live, my young friend, when your
store of guineas is melted, if you have not learned that noble art
of picking and stealing, which our young blades of fashion practise
with such success and grace?"
So the acquaintance was renewed, Tom quickly falling again beneath
the spell of the strong personality of Lord Claud. He had not
entirely ceased his sword practice with Captain Raikes during the
past weeks, and now was to be found at his hall almost every day.
Lord Claud himself would sometimes come and watch and applaud; and
more than once, as the two had walked away together, linked arm in
arm, his patron had said:
"Good swordsmanship is an art to be greatly prized. It makes a man
respected and feared. It gives him distinction with his fellows.
Besides, one never knows when it may be useful for the saving of
one's skin. A man who can wield the rapier with skill, master his
horse as you can, honest Tom, and shoot fair and true with pistol
and musket, may go through life to a merry tune, and even die at
last in his bed, if he has a mind for so respectable an end!"
The days were shortening to their darkest by now. Snow fell in the
streets, and made walking disagreeable. Tom found it pleasant to
ride along beside Lord Claud, mounted upon the mettlesome mare,
Nell Gwynne, who appeared kept just now for his especial use and
behoof. He still spent his Sundays at his lodgings; but pretty
Rosamund was not always able to come across when the snow lay deep
along the country roads. Tom began to think less of her again, and
more of his patron and friend; being, as may have already been
gleaned, a youth of impressionable nature, easily moulded by the
character of his associates, although not without a latent firmness
of will which might develop into sterling metal in time, though,
perhaps, not until the admixture of dross had been purged away by
the action of the furnace of trial.
All London was now agog over the return of the victor of Blenheim.
The great Duke of Marlborough had been upon his way home for some
time. In the middle of December he reached London, and took his
seat in the House of Lords; and it was said that early in the next
year there would be a monstrous fine procession from the Tower to
Westminster, in which all the trophies of war would be solemnly
paraded.
Tom was as excited as anybody over all this, and as eager to obtain
sight of the great Duke. Lord Claud had promised that he should not
only see him, but be one of the same company at some fine house
where he would show himself. Tom had often been to grand enough
houses already with his friend; but it seemed to him overmuch to
suppose that he could be introduced into any company of which the
Duke of Marlborough was to be a member.
Lord Claud, however, was not given to vain boasting. The open-house
festivities of Christmas were approaching. He himself had won the
entree to an extraordinary number of fashionable houses; and this
evening here was Tom, come with his patron to a nobleman's
dwelling, standing in the crowd of fashionable grandees, all in a
flutter of excitement to see the hero of the hour at close
quarters.
"Keep your eyes open, Tom; you cannot fail to see him as he passes
through the room. You are lucky in being able to look over the
heads of all the crowd. No tiptoeing lady can intercept your view
even with her towering headdress!"
This was hardly true; for there were ladies whose headdresses were
of such monstrous proportions that the dame of five feet stood
seven feet high, taking the heels of her shoes and the tower on her
head into consideration! But luckily these extravagant follies were
confined only to the few, the majority of the ladies being content
with a headdress of more moderate dimensions.
There was a great buzz of talk going on as it became known that the
Duke was approaching--some eager to know if the Duchess would be
with him; others laughing at the name, and vowing that Mrs. Morley
could never bear to part with her dear Mrs. Freeman even for an
hour!
The doors at the end of the room were thrown suddenly open. The
master of the house appeared, leading with great distinction of
manner a little knot of guests, who passed through the crowded
outer reception room at a slow pace, returning the many salutations
of the company with great show of goodwill, disappearing presently
behind the curtains which shut off the innermost room where the
lady of the house was awaiting them, with some of the more select
and high-born guests.
"That is the Duke," said Lord Claud to Tom, indicating a tall and
elegant man, who looked to him hardly old enough for the general of
so many victorious battles. He was singularly handsome, with a
languid grace of bearing that seemed strange in a soldier. He spoke
in a peculiarly modulated and refined voice, and plainly possessed
the art of saying the right thing to the right person, and that at
the right moment. His silver tongue had done as much good service
in keeping the Allies in harmony, as his military genius in forming
combinations and defeating the ends of the enemy.
At his side was the Duchess, a fine-looking woman of commanding
presence, not beautiful, but with a very elegant figure and
remarkably abundant hair, which she wore in a more tasteful way
than most of the company. A few paces behind came another notable
figure, that of Marshal Tallard, the French general whom
Marlborough had taken prisoner at Blenheim, and whom he had brought
with him to England; but whom he treated with every courtesy, and
with whom he bad formed something very like a real friendship.
Lord Claud whispered to Tom that Marshal Tallard had been the one
French general whose genius was in the least able to cope with that
of Marlborough; and to have him in safe keeping in this country was
a most excellent thing for the Grand Alliance.
As soon as the distinguished guests had disappeared, the buzz of
talk rose louder than before. Tom asked, in puzzled tones, what all
this chatter about Mrs. Morley and Mrs. Freeman meant; and Lord
Claud laughed, as he replied:
"Have you never heard of the whim of the Queen to call herself Mrs.
Morley in her letters to the Duchess, who in her turn is Mrs.
Freeman? And very well is she so named, for never was subject more
free with sovereign than is Duchess Sarah with good Queen Anne.
Indeed, there be not those lacking who say that such freedom cannot
go on for ever. However fondly the Queen may love the Duchess now,
she cannot for ever submit to be the subject of her subject. Some
day there will be a storm, and then it will behove Mrs. Freeman to
sing to a different tune! For the Queen has a will of her own when
once it is roused, and can show a stubborn front when she
chooses--as some of her ministers have already found to their
discomfiture!"
Lord Claud strolled away presently, leaving Tom to look about him
and listen to the idle chatter of the shifting throng. He made out
that though the Duke of Marlborough was in great popular esteem,
his Duchess was little liked; and spiteful things were circulated
to her disfavour all round the room. It was plain that she had a
very overbearing temper, and made many enemies; but her affection
for her husband and children was never disputed, nor his for her,
though there were many who marvelled what a man of his parts could
see in such a shrew to be so devoted to her as had always been the
case.
"For she belabours him sorely with her tongue times and again, and
ofttimes writes him fiery letters, which discompose him more than a
reverse in arms. When she smiles, he is filled with an extraordinary
joy; and when she frowns, he knows no peace till he has conciliated
her. 'Tis the strangest thing in a man such as he; and the Queen is
just as bad. In old days the woman would have been burned as a witch,
for she has certainly bewitched that pair, though no one else can
see wherein her wondrous charm lies."
Later on in the evening, when the company had somewhat thinned, and
when the card rooms had drawn off a number of those who yet
remained, the Duke was seen strolling by himself through the suite
of rooms, exchanging friendly nods and words with the many eager
acquaintances he met there.
Marlborough had that recollection of faces which is so often the
prerogative of royalty; and he had none of the pride which hinders
a man from greeting an old friend, even though his station in life
was humble. The Duke had been but the son of a country gentleman,
when he came to court as plain John Churchill. He had climbed the
ladder of fame and fortune fast; but he remembered his former
friends, and never forgot to salute them in company. His charm of
manner was felt by all who came in contact with him. However
worried or hard pressed, he never let his irritation be seen, and
he never appeared in haste. He was as suave and gentle in manner
amongst the humbler sort of company as in the presence of royalty
itself; and his clear glance passed quickly from face to face as he
talked, as though he were secretly taking the measure of men,
although his languor of manner never varied.
More than once, as he walked hither and thither through the rooms,
had Tom's glance crossed his. Possibly it was the young man's great
height which took the eye of the soldier in the midst of this
crowd, where smirking fops and bending courtiers predominated. Tom
could not be accused of bowing or smirking. He remained the whole
time leaning back against the wall in the same place; his face
grave; his eyes following the movements of this or that person; his
lips silent, because he could not frame them to the jargon of
tongues and the stilted phrases of the day, and besides he had no
acquaintances in this gay throng, save only Lord Claud himself.
Tom was looking in some curiosity to see if Lord Claud was
acquainted with the Duke. He had never said so; but then Lord Claud
was not given to boasting, and had already surprised Tom by the
number of his notable acquaintances. The Duke was walking along,
skirting the wall of the room. Everybody gave way for him to pass.
He was now very near to Lord Claud, and not far from Tom himself,
for his patron had been strolling idly in his direction.
Tom saw the eyes of the two men cross, and Lord Claud make his
courtly bow, to which the Duke responded gracefully. Lord Claud
took one step forward, and said in a low tone, every syllable of
which, however, was audible to Tom:
"I have never before had the honour of speaking with your Grace;
but there is one word that I crave to speak in your ear. If there
be some secret mission of danger which the Duke of Marlborough
desires to intrust to two men, stout of heart, cool of head, and
skilled in the use of the sword, then I can promise that the
services of myself and my trusty comrade here are at your Grace's
disposal; and I think I can promise that, whether we succeed or
not, we can be true to the death."
And Lord Claud, as he spoke, laid a hand upon the arm of the
astonished Tom, who had certainly not understood his words of
former days to mean anything quite so definite as this.
At the same time the heart of the youth leaped within him as he
heard, and he felt a thrill run through his veins. As the soft yet
searching gaze of the Duke fell upon him, he felt himself flush to
the temples like a girl; and yet at that moment he felt that he
could willingly lay down his life to serve so great a man as this.
"And who may have told you, sir, that I have need of trusty men for
the secret service?" asked Marlborough, in his even tone.
"My knowledge of men and of warfare have told me," answered Lord
Claud, with his accustomed serenity of manner. "True men are not to
be plucked from every tree, as I have found to mine own cost. A man
may prove but a treacherous reed, upon whom if one leans it goes
into his hand. Therefore, your Grace, have I made bold to tell you
of two trusty servants, something wearied with the hollow life of
this great city, who are willing and ready to travel farther
afield, and to whom peril or danger adds but zest to any quest."
Marlborough stood thoughtfully regarding the two men before him.
Lord Claud returned his gaze by one full and calm; Tom's eyes
glowed and kindled by reason of the keenness of the surging
thoughts within.
"You are he whom men call Lord Claud," said the Duke thoughtfully.
"You know that there are strange whispers afloat about you, my
lord?"
"I know it well."
"And you have never denied those whispers?"
Lord Claud smiled slightly.
"My sword has answered a few taunts. For the rest, I heed them not
overmuch. If we began to take cognizance of the chatterings of this
world of magpies, we might have a duel to fight every day of our
lives."
Marlborough smiled slightly at the nonchalance of the reply.
"That is all you have to say to me, Lord Claud?"
"That is all, your Grace."
For a moment there was silence, whilst the Duke bent his eyes upon
the ground; then he looked straight at Tom.
"And who are you, young sir?"
Tom glanced at Lord Claud, but seeing that he was to answer for
himself, he did so frankly and candidly. He was not ashamed of his
humble birth, and made no secret of it; nor did he deny that he
should never have found himself in such fine company save for the
introduction and good offices of Lord Claud.
"And you desire to see foreign parts?"
"I was sent from home that I might do so. My father thought I might
find room in your Grace's army to fight for my country. I was
smitten so with the wonders of London that I have lingered here
long. But I begin to weary of the life. I would gladly go forth and
see new lands, the more so if I could travel with a comrade who
knew to frame his tongue to foreign speech;" and here he glanced at
Lord Claud, who seemed to him a notable linguist.
"You know no tongue but your own, Mr. Tufton?"
"Never a word; and even that I cannot speak as men speak it in
London town, so that I am fain to keep silence in a crowd like
this, lest men laugh me to scorn, and anger me till I say or do
something unseemly;" and the lad's face flushed, for he had been
sorely provoked before this, and had need of all his patience to
quell the tempest of his soul.
The Duke smiled at this boyish frankness of speech; but then his
face grew grave again, and he stood a while in thought. Then he
looked at Lord Claud, and said with some significance:
"I will think more of this matter, sir. I have used strange tools
before this, and ofttimes with success. The secret service has its
secrets and its surprises; and I have my own methods of winning the
fidelity of the messengers I employ."
"So I have heard, your Grace."
The two men looked full at each other, and the glance was neither
unfriendly nor suspicious. It appeared to Tom as though there were
mutual liking, and a disposition to confidence; but this was
neither the time nor the place to indulge it.
"Till all this feasting and pageantry be over, I am not mine own
master, and I can scarce find time for the needful business of the
hour," said Marlborough; "but later on I hope to be free to spend a
short spell of well-earned rest in mine own house of Holywell, hard
by St. Albans. If you should receive a summons to visit me there,
come privately, and bring your friend with you. It may be I shall
make use of your services ere long."
With a slight bow, which was respectfully returned by Tom, and more
gracefully by Lord Claud, the Duke moved away; and Tom's eyes were
alight with excitement as he asked eagerly:
"What does it mean? What have you offered? What will he use us
for?"
Lord Claud led his pupil away through the crowded rooms, out into
the cold night air; but neither of them felt the cold. A keen
excitement filled their veins as with molten fire.
"He rose to it!" quoth Lord Claud exultantly; "I saw it ever
growing in favour as he turned it over. I have heard of his methods
in the secret service. He spends more money, and gets greater
results than any general has ever yet done. He says truth when he
speaks of employing strange tools. Well, let him employ this
strange tool--and it shall not play him false!
"My coffers are almost bare, Tom. And I am sick of crowds and
foppery and the follies of the city. I would fain away on the back
of my good steed, and feel what freedom is like once more. Gold I
must have; and the King's gold is my fancy. Let me win it this time
by my services, which shall be true and faithful; but if not--well,
let them not say the fault is mine!"
"The Queen's, you mean," said Tom. "We serve our Queen now."
Lord Claud gave a short laugh.
"You speak sooth, honest Tom; we have a Queen now, and I would not
do despite to our good Queen Anne! I was thinking of the last time
I had won royal gold--then it was the King's money that replenished
my empty exchequer!"
He laughed again, and Tom looked at him half uneasily; which
perceiving, he changed his tone, and in a short time the youth had
forgotten everything save the glorious prospect of adventure and
peril, and the handling thereafter of golden treasure; for if the
Duke was accounted a lover of money, no man ever accused him of
showing meanness in rewarding the services of others.
The next weeks flew by almost like a dream for Tom; and truly he
felt he must surely be dreaming when he watched the gorgeous
pageant of the third of January, and witnessed from a commanding
situation the grand procession of the trophies of war as it wound
its way from the Tower to Westminster Hall.
Companies of horse and foot made a brave and gallant show; row
after row of pikemen with the captured standards; a goodly number
of the nobles of the land; and the great Duke himself, at whose'
appearance the populace shouted till they were hoarse, ladies waved
handkerchiefs, and the city seemed to go mad with joy and applause.
Almost grander still was the pageant three days later, when the
victor of Blenheim went in state to the Goldsmiths' Hall, to a
banquet given in his honour by the Lord Mayor and Town Council. He
was conveyed there in one of the royal carriages; the greatest men
in the kingdom, and some princely guests, accompanied him; and
again the whole city turned out to give him welcome. At Temple Bar
the city marshals received him in state, garlands were flung, and
trumpets proclaimed the idol of the hour. The Commons were
petitioning the Queen to suggest some fitting tribute for the
services of so great a man; and the gift of the royal manor of
Woodstock, and the erection by royal bounty of the palace of
Blenheim (although after his fall and disgrace Marlborough had to
finish the palace at his own cost) were the results of this appeal.
Tom witnessed all these brave sights, and had his head well-nigh
turned by all the rejoicings in which the city took part. Even
Master Cale scarcely chid him for the way in which his guineas were
flying; although he warned Tom that they would not last long at
such a pace. But Tom laughed now, and said he had the prospect of
earning more when these were gone; and Lord Claud laughed lightly
when the subject came up, and told Tom that the pleasantest way
with money was to spend it freely whilst it lasted, and then turn
to and get more. There were a hundred ways of doing this, he
assured him; and Torn half believed him, and found it mighty
pleasant to throw about his gold as the young bloods of fashion
did, and have a pretty costly trinket to offer to Rosamund whenever
they chanced to meet.
Master Cale would rather the child had not had these gay gewgaws
forced upon her; but he could not chide overmuch when he saw the
brightness of her eyes and the eagerness upon her face. Besides,
Tom had already spoken of his speedy departure for foreign lands;
and although Rosamund pouted, and professed that it was very unkind
of him to go just when they had grown to be friends, her father saw
no indications of deeper feeling. And, indeed, the maid had as yet
no real love for any but her father. Tom had taken her fancy, as
being the finest and handsomest youth she had ever come across, but
she regarded him as a being quite out of her sphere; and though her
heart fluttered a little at first sight of him, she could look
forward to the thought of his absence with great equanimity.
"You will come back and tell us all your adventures," she said, as
though that would make up for much; and Tom faithfully promised,
although he fancied there might be many reservations in the tale he
would tell.
One day before the month of January had fled Tom received a summons
to Lord Claud's lodging. There he found everything in confusion,
servants hurrying hither and thither, and the valet packing up some
sober clothing in a small valise that could be strapped across a
saddle.
When Tom came face to face with Lord Claud he saw a new expression
in the eyes of his patron. All the languor and indifference had
fled. His whole aspect was of a man bound upon some stern errand.
"Tom," he said briefly, "the time has come. Go home and don your
stoutest riding dress. Take a second with you in saddlebag or
valise; and hide such money as you have left somewhere upon your
person. Then come back hither, and we will dine together. We are to
start upon our journey this very day; and our first stage is
Holywell House, near St. Albans."