They were up at cock-crow next morning, and away upon their long ride
north just as soon as they had broken their fast, and procured fresh
horses.
Dominica felt herself to be moving in a dream; events had marched so
swiftly that she was dazed by them. She awoke to hear Joshua scratching
on her door, and for a moment imagined the previous day's wild work to
be a figment of her fancy. But Joshua's voice, unmistakably his brisk
voice, was bidding her rise up, and she knew herself to be living in no
dream.
Breakfast in a small parlour leading off the taproom downstairs awaited
her. She found Sir Nicholas there, neat as ever, and because she was
suddenly shy and tongue-tied she could only give him her little hand
to kiss, and say in a voice that tried to hide her shyness: "Ah, Señor
Nicholas, I see you have that clean ruff Joshua spoke of, so I suppose
you did not leave your pack behind."
He flung up a hand. "A' God's Name, let me hear no more of that pack!"
he said in comic dismay. "I have heard of little else from that
tickle-brain behind you since my coming last night."
She looked round at Joshua's disapproving face. Joshua pulled out
a stool for her from under the table, but fixed a wintry look upon
Sir Nicholas. "Ay, master, no doubt it is very well to talk in such
careless wise, but I shall take leave to say that to throw away a
new doublet of murry taffeta and a pair of stocks broidered with
gold quirks about the ankles, not to make mention of a set of silver
aiglets and a pair of trunk hose scarce worn, passeth the bounds of
prodigality."
"Peace, froth!" said Sir Nicholas, and sat him down opposite to his
lady at the table. His eyes smiled at her across the covers. "It is in
my mind, ladybird, that we have not sat at table together since you
were aboard the _Venture_." The twinkle deepened. "Do you remember that
you were loth to take wine from my hands?" He picked up the bottle at
his elbow and regarded it with uplifted brows. "You might well be loth
to take this from me," he remarked. "What is it, Joshua?"
"Scarce potable, I allow," said Joshua gloomily. "A very vile drink,
sir, but what would you?"
Dominica's tongue became loosened. She must tell Sir Nicholas of the
curious fancy that had come to her when Don Diego offered her wine of
Alicante, and when that was done she found she had left her shyness
behind her.
The horses were saddled and ready. As Dominica set her foot in
Beauvallet's hand she looked saucily at Joshua, and said: "Now, Joshua,
you shall see whether I can ride hard or no."
She showed her mettle that day; she had done with fears and doubts.
While she rode with Sir Nicholas at her side there could be nothing to
alarm her. She had doubted that he would not reach Madrid, and he had
done so; she had been sure that he could not escape from prison, and
he had escaped; she had feared that he would not survive yesterday's
grim work, and here he was, safe and gay as ever. She could never again
doubt his extraordinary faculty of coming off safe from seemingly
hopeless traps.
There seemed to be no peril now. Joshua might sniff the air, and keep
an ear cocked to the rearward, but Sir Nicholas, leading the way over
the hills, was care-free and merry. So, too, would his lady be, then.
The long journey taxed her powers to the uttermost, but she would not
admit her weariness. She sat as straight as she could, laughed at the
bad road, swore she was very well content, and had no wish to rest
her limbs. They lost the way; why, it was part of the adventure, and
her Nicholas would soon find it again; her horse stumbled on a craggy
mountain-side and nearly came down with her: let them not worry, she
was safe enough; the sun was scorchingly hot: why, she was used to a
hot clime, and would take no hurt.
Joshua was moved to admiration. "With good leave," he said, "I may
remark that the señorita bears herself like an Englishwoman."
"This is to praise you, child," said Sir Nicholas, amused.
She nodded and laughed, and grew pink. "I shall very shortly be one,
Señor Pirate, shall I not?" she said, and peeped at him.
His hand closed on hers. "My heart!"
They had to travel 'cross country where roads failed them, and this
meant slow going for the most part, for the way was very rough, and
they had need to study the rough plans Sir Nicholas had made. The
shadows were lengthening long before they came within sight of the sea,
and Joshua began to fret. He pushed up alongside to gain Beauvallet's
ear. "Master, we shall never make it in time," he whispered.
Dominica caught the whisper. "Then let us press on," she said. "We
must have Señor Nicholas away to-night without fail."
That made Beauvallet laugh, and even drew a smile from Joshua. This,
however, he quickly suppressed. "The señorita speaks wisely," he said.
"Rare to junket about Spain singing catches as though we were at
Alreston, but I would take leave to remind you, master, that you are a
hunted man."
"Oh, wind-bag," said Sir Nicholas genially, "if I could make better way
be sure I should. Broken knees won't serve us. We shall make that port
this night."
Make it they did, but later than they had hoped for, losing their road
in the darkness, and only finding it again after much casting about.
Dominica swayed in the saddle, upheld whenever it was possible by a
strong, tireless arm, but when she heard Joshua swearing amongst the
boulders she could still laugh, though it was but a weary, would-be
valiant little laugh.
They saw the lights of the tiny port ahead; Sir Nicholas snuffed the
air. "I can smell the sea," he said. "Courage, my bird!"
Her head drooped against his shoulder. He made a movement to summon up
Joshua upon his other side.
"Walk warily now," he said in a low voice. "If word was sent to the
ports to stop our passage, those at Santander will know very well where
to look for us."
Joshua started. "God's me, I had not thought of that! Ay, they would
remember how you landed there."
A drowsy voice spoke from Beauvallet's shoulder. "Oh yes, they would
never forget. We stayed with the Governor of Santander the day after
you set us ashore, and I would you could have heard him."
Sir Nicholas looked significantly at Joshua. Joshua stifled a groan,
and shrugged. "A posse of soldiers, I dare swear. I might have guessed
we were not yet out of the trap." He looked up at the cloudy sky.
"What o'clock? Nay, how shall we say? It but remains to find no ship
awaiting. What, would she stay right through the night? One cannot
suppose it. She will sniff the dawn at hand and be off."
"Dawn, stock-fish?" said Sir Nicholas. "If it is past eleven you may
call me a dolt."
"I have a better regard for my skin, master," said Joshua, with dignity.
They gave a wide berth to the cluster of cottages that formed the port,
and pricked their way cautiously down the hill towards the sound of
the sea lapping on the shingle. It was very dark, and the ground was
strewed with rocks and hillocks and patches of stones. Sir Nicholas
reined in his horse and turned in the saddle to speak to Joshua. "We
make nothing by this. We shall do best to tether the nags and go on
afoot."
Joshua nodded and slid down from the saddle. Sir Nicholas was on the
ground, and already lifting Dominica down. Her legs almost gave way
under her; she staggered and caught at his hand. He would have lifted
her in his arms, but she shook her head. "No, no, I would rather walk.
I am only so stiff."
They went forward, Joshua close behind them with the lantern he had
bought that morning in Villanova. Somewhere below them the waves were
breaking gently on the beach; the ground shelved steeply towards it.
Sir Nicholas stopped. "Light the lantern, Joshua," he said softly.
Joshua knelt to open it. He looked up. "Master, a cloak to hide the
light."
Sir Nicholas swung the cloak from his shoulders and held it round both
Joshua and the lamp. Joshua was busy with his tinder-box; a spark
flared, and the wick caught.
Dominica felt numb with fatigue still. She sank down on a convenient
rock and watched Joshua tending his lamp under cover of the cloak. The
wash of the sea sounded like a lullaby; she wondered whether, somewhere
to the north in the velvety darkness the _Venture_ lurked. They seemed
so alone in the world in this silence of the night that it hardly
seemed possible. Down by the huts men might be stirring, but here on
the shelving stony ground all was silent, hushed by the sea.
Sir Nicholas looked keenly round, peering through the darkness. For
as far as he could see there was no one abroad. Come what might, the
signal must be given. He took the lamp from Joshua and held it high
above his head. Then he dipped it quickly, and cloaked it while a man
might count twenty. Again he showed it, and yet a third time.
There was a pause. "Oh knaves, if ye be not there!" muttered Joshua.
"Oh, Master Dangerfield, I do not trust you!"
Away to the north out of the blackness shone a pin-point of light three
times. The _Venture_ had answered the signal.
"Ha, true men!" said Joshua in high fettle. "I would wager young Master
Dangerfield against an hundred!"
His wrist was clamped hard. "Silence, man!" hissed Sir Nicholas, and
threw up his head to listen.
Joshua stiffened like a dog. To the west of them had come a shout,
muffled by the wash of the sea.
"God's Death, they've posted a sentry on the look-out!" muttered Sir
Nicholas, and pulled his long dagger from its sheath.
Joshua had his head under the cloak blowing out the lantern. Heavy
footsteps were approaching at a jog-trot. Sir Nicholas went forward
into the night noiseless and swift.
A man loomed up out of the darkness with a levelled halberd. He was on
to Beauvallet before he realized it, and went down with no more than a
groan as the dagger struck home.
"Ha, neatly done!" said Joshua, not above a whisper, and with complete
satisfaction. He put up his own weapon, which he had snatched out as he
ran after his master.
But in the distance another cry sounded, as though a fellow-soldier
answered that first call.
Sir Nicholas was back at Dominica's side wiping his dagger. "More of
them," he said grimly. "The Governor of Santander has my compliments."
He swept Dominica up into his arms. "Lie still, fondling," he said.
"Naught to fear yet awhile. Down to the beach, Joshua, and on your life
no sound!"
He was off into the darkness as he spoke. Joshua crept after, murmuring
to himself. "Naught to fear, forsooth! Well-a-day, well-a-day! and we
with the whole pack like to be on us at any minute now! The fiend seize
these stones!"
They were halfway down the steep hillside, skirting rocks, slipping
on loose stones. Above, on the higher ground, came the crack of an
arquebus fired into the air.
"Ha!" muttered Joshua. "That may be a signal to the rest of the pack,
but I warrant it will bring our men on fast! I shall die in my bed yet.
Courage, Joshua!" He felt level sands under his feet, and quickened
his steps to come up with Sir Nicholas, lost in the darkness. Behind,
on the high ground, footsteps were running and voices could be heard
calling to one another. From the huts to the west came also a stir.
Lights showed bobbing on the path above. The hunt was up.
Dominica was set on her feet by the water's edge. Sir Nicholas wrenched
his fretful sword from the scabbard, watching those moving lights as
they came nearer, wobbling down the slope, outlining the forms of armed
men.
The soldiers were casting about now from the looks of it. In the
glimmer of the few lanterns Beauvallet could see them peering and
searching with halberds levelled. There was but a handful of them, but
enough to settle the account of two Englishmen; and from the huts,
along the path upon the hill, more were coming to their assistance.
Joshua had waded out into the water, striving to catch the sound of
oars. He came back and touched Beauvallet's arm. "To the right, master,
I think."
Sir Nicholas took Dominica's hand and followed. The faint sound of oars
grew more distinct; others beside themselves had heard it. From further
up the beach came a shout of command, and a surge of some four or five
men towards the water.
"Row, ye devils, row!" groaned Joshua, fairly dancing with impatience.
The soldiers were slipping and stumbling over the shingle; from the
dark water came a lusty shout; they could hear Dangerfield's clear
voice raised: "Pull, sluggards, pull!" Then the richer voice of the
boatswain came to them, chanting in imitation of a waterman: "Heave and
ho! rumbelow!"
It was a race now grimmer than any that had been, a race between that
boat cleaving desperately through the water and the soldiers pelting
down to cut off the fugitives. Joshua stayed peering out to sea to spy
the boat, but Sir Nicholas had his back turned and waited, drawn sword
in hand, to check the rush from the land.
The splash of oars was close now; another moment and Joshua saw the
boat come nosing shoreward. Behind him the foremost of the soldiers had
run on his doom, and Sir Nicholas' sword was red. But now lusty seamen
were wading ashore, jostling each other to be the first to reach land,
and the air was rent by solid English oaths. The handful of soldiers
on the beach drew back. They had courage enough, but lacked a leader,
and it was plain that a sprinkling of soldiers could not hope to stand
against this troop of bloodthirsty seamen. They fell back then and sent
up a mighty yell to warn their comrades that there was need of haste.
But the party from the huts was not yet at hand, though it was coming
with all possible speed to the rescue.
"Ha, rogues!" shrieked Joshua. "In a good hour!"
"Beauvallet and spare not!" sang out the boatswain, and reached the
sands with a splash and a bound. "How fares your honour?"
"Rarely!" laughed Sir Nicholas.
Master Dangerfield was at his elbow. "My God, sir, you have made it!"
he cried, and grasped at Beauvallet's hand.
There was a fight in the air, all around the murmur of it. "Ho, Spanish
Papishers!" a voice growled. "Now see what comes to those who chase our
Nick!"
A second voice bawled out cheerfully: "Ay, have at 'em, lads!" and
there was a surge forward up the beach.
Sir Nicholas was only just in time to stop it. "Back, ye rogues!"
The rush was checked, but there was dissatisfaction abroad. The
_Venture's_ crew had been spoiling for a fight all this past fortnight
of weary waiting; the excuse was provided, the men were elated, and
it was felt that those who had the temerity to harry the _Venture's_
commander needed to be taught a lesson.
"What, not one blow, sir?" said the boatswain reproachfully.
Sir Nicholas was amongst his refractory crew. "Back, dogs! Man me that
boat!" He beat them back with the flat of his sword. "By God, I will
have you all in irons if you man me not that boat!" he swore cheerfully.
There was a chuckle, a concerted move seawards; daggers were slid home
in their sheaths. Somewhere near her Dominica heard a rough voice say
appreciatively: "Ho-ho! The General's back amongst us! I'm for the
boat."
They manned the boat. They were disappointed at this tame ending, but
it was held to be unhealthy for a man to go against the General's
orders. His ungrateful behaviour upon being rescued by his faithful
crew rather pleased them. Easy to see Mad Nick was himself still! There
was a cheer raised.
The bulk of the soldiers were pelting down the slope of the steep hill
now. Sir Nicholas lifted Dominica high in his arms and waded out last
of all to the boat.
The crew became aware of the lady, and let another cheer. Many hands
were eager to receive her into the boat, foremost amongst them those of
Master Hick who had once had his face roundly slapped by her. She stood
unsteadily, a hand on one fustian shoulder, the other lost in a great
paw.
Sir Nicholas climbed into the boat and waved farewell to Spain. "Give
way!" he commanded, and the long oars dipped in the water.
Slowly they drew away, until the lanterns on the shore receded in the
distance, and the last sounds from Spain died.
Dominica, crouched in the stern, stole her hand into Beauvallet's. His
fingers closed over it; he looked down at her, and she caught the flash
of his white teeth. "Safe now, fondling."
She nodded and sighed her content. Behind her, at the tiller, young
Dangerfield spoke bashfully. "And a warm welcome for you aboard,
señorita, be sure."
She smiled at him, but was too tired to speak. The boat cleaved on
through the dark water until the tall sides of the _Venture_ reared
up before it, and they heard excited voices, and saw the light of a
lantern dangled over the side.
"Safe? Have you brought the General off?" shouted the Master anxiously.
The crew let as hearty a cheer as they could for their somewhat winded
condition, and something very like a yell of triumph went up from those
aboard the _Venture_.
Dominica was carried up the rope ladder and kissed at the top.
"Welcome, my bride!" Beauvallet said in her ear, and set her on her
feet.
Men seemed to surge around them, questioning, congratulating. There was
some display of thanksgiving, not unmixed with many a "Said I not so?"
apparently addressed to those who had doubted Sir Nicholas' ability to
dupe all Spain.
Beauvallet shouldered a way for himself and his lady through this
excited crowd with a laugh and a jest flung carelessly. Dominica found
herself confronting a small neat gentleman whom Sir Nicholas clapped on
the shoulder. "Save you, Master Cooper!" he said. "I have work for you,
as I promised."
"Sir Nicholas"--the neat man wrung his hand--"I count this escape
as not less than one of God's miracles, and a sign to these Spanish
Papists--a veritable Sign! What may I do to serve you?"
"You may marry me, Master Parson," said Sir Nicholas Beauvallet.
EPILOGUE
"And so we came off," says Joshua Dimmock, sure of the last word. "You
say a miracle? Ho, we do not count such trifles as miraculous in my
master's service! Yet I allow it to have been a feat, and do not look
upon my own part in it as contemptible. Sir Nicholas owned himself
to be somewhat in my debt: a very unusual thing in him, I may say.
However, we had some talk together whiles I was trussing his points
that next day in his cabin, and 'Joshua, my man,' says he, 'be sure you
are a rogue and a wind-bag, but I owe you some thanks for this month's
work.' This was very acceptable to me, as you may be sure, not less so
than a certain token that went with it. I wear it upon my finger to
this day. Ay, a rare stone: it came out of the Indies.
"But I run on. Sir Nicholas having said as much, and more, and maybe
puffed me up a very little in mine own esteem--for I took no account of
certain holiday terms such as toss-pot and hemp-seed that went with his
words, these being no more than the genial way he uses--he did me the
honour to inform me that he was to be married that morning.
"A rare morning's work, I warrant you! with the crew grinning and
looking slyly--until I spoke with them. It was enough. I was become a
man of some account, which was not marvellous.
"There was Master Dangerfield at that bridal, the ship's Master, our
surgeon, and myself. Be sure I was bidden, and rightly so, for setting
aside some other small matters, I was so near to being my mistress's
tire woman in those last few days as makes no matter. A very mettlesome
lady, that; I do not deny it. She was married in her riding-dress,
for she had none other, and a strange sight it was to see the bride
so shabby and the groom so point-de-vice. But I regret that murry
taffeta doublet and the new trunk hosen. However, let it go. You may
say my lips are sealed as to that lost pack, for there was that other
pack I was bound to leave behind at that smuggling port. I warrant
you Sir Nicholas made merry work over that: I bore all with a patient
countenance.
"I talk more and no more. The marriage over there was some feasting,
and the crew in high fettle. We made all speed for Plymouth Sound, but
I doubt my master and mistress cared little when they came there.
"At Plymouth I bestirred myself a little, as I know how, bought some
slight matters for my lady, which she was pleased to approve, and call
me a proper tire woman, and set about the ordering of horses and a
coach. My lady stayed aboard till all was ready. She was in no case,
says she, to show herself to England. Yet I never saw her own herself
put-out by the loss of her wardrobe. She took all as it came, and made
merry over it, and I am bound to say I was very much her servant before
that voyage was over.
"We pushed on to Alreston in rare style, my lady in the coach, Sir
Nicholas riding close beside, and myself a little behind. My lady
must needs have the curtains drawn back to look about her on our
countryside. So she would have it known, but my reading of the matter
is that she wanted to look upon my master. And he upon her, God wot!
"You may be sure our home-coming fetched up a rare gallimaufry at
Alreston. There was never a one there had thought ever to see Sir
Nicholas again. I believe my lord mourned him already as one dead. But
in we swept at the gates, up the avenue to the house, and fetched up
there with something of a flourish. It is our way. The good-year! We
had the whole household about us in a trice, and I make bold to say
that I have never before or since seen my lord in such a taking of joy.
For he is not one of those who wear the heart upon the sleeve, as the
saying is. He had not near done wringing my master's hand and hugging
him about the shoulders when Sir Nicholas puts him off and begs leave
to present his lady-wife. A rare thing it was to see my lord's jaw
drop! 'What!' quotha. 'You have never brought her off, Nick?'
"Sir Nicholas handed my mistress out of the coach. I warrant you he
looked proudly, with that gleam of the eye and that cock of the pointed
beard we all know. Well he might throw up his chin! She was a very
lovely piece--with all proper respect I say so, be it understood.
"She was colouring up finely and holding tight to my master's hand. She
felt herself stared at it, and maybe feared they might look coldly on
her. But my lady had the word then. 'Oh, my dear!' cries she out, and
took my mistress into her arms and well-nigh wept over her. You ask
me why she should do so? I am bound to say I do not understand these
women's coils. She bore my mistress off into the house, and that was
the last I saw of them until the dinner-hour.
"My lord had me in then to the winter-parlour. It was pretty to see
my mistress, pranked out in a gown of my lady's, lisping her broken
English to my lord, and ever and anon looking to Sir Nicholas to give
her a word she needed.
"My lord was pleased to speak me very comfortable words, which had
not often been his wont towards me. I had a fat purse from him at a
more convenient time, but at this present he gave me thanks for having
brought his brother off safe. You may lay your life my master let out a
laugh at this, but my mistress gave me a rare smile, and vowed my lord
had reason. When I consider, I must allow he had. But modesty forbids
me to dwell on this.
"What more? Little enough. We were off to London not so long after, and
I leave you to judge what Sir Francis said when he heard our tale. I
speak of Drake, the Admiral: you will have heard of him, maybe. What my
master told Master Secretary is a matter not revealed to me. Suffice it
that lean Walsingham rubbed his hands over it. Of that I am assured.
"As I remember, the Court lay at Nonesuch, and thither we went. I
warrant you the Queen's Grace fairly crowed to see my master back, and,
as I heard, thought it a rare jest he should lay down Don Cristobal's
Golden Fleece at her feet.
"'Is this the best that Spain can show, rogue?' says she. She hath a
merry, boisterous way when she is in the humour.
"'Why, no, madam,' says my master, and brings her up his lady. 'This is
the best, madam, and as such I present her to you: your Grace's newest
subject.'
"Maybe she was not so well pleased with that. I have heard it said that
her Grace never liked to see a personable man wed. Be that as it may,
she could not well turn pettish now. My mistress had a hand to kiss,
and got a tap on the cheek from her Grace's fan. 'How now, mistress?'
says her Grace. 'Do you shackle my bold mad Beauvallet?'
"After which she had very little more to say to my lady, but kept my
master beside her a full hour, telling her how it had fared with us in
Spain.
"In my opinion, the affair passed off better than might have been hoped
for, considering her Grace's high temper.
"We were off soon after to Basing, where you see me now. Ay, we lie
snug enough, and if you remark that I am become a personage of some
note I am not to deny you. I do not say that my master shows this to
the world, for that is not at all his way, but I am bold to tell you
that I am very indispensable both to him and to my mistress. Which is
not at all to be wondered at, I hold. But we have never found a pair of
stocks with gold quirks about the ankles to match with those we lost at
Vasconosa, and I cannot but deem the throwing of them to the winds, as
it were, a very wanton piece of work. But thus it is always upon Sir
Nicholas' affairs."
THE END
[Transcriber's Note: Inconsistent hyphenation left as printed.]
* * * * *
Pedigree of the HOUSE OF BEAUVALLET for those Readers who are
Interested in the Fortunes of the Descendants of SIMON THE COLDHEART,
1st Baron Beauvallet
_b._ 1385, out of wedlock. Son of Geoffrey, Earl of Malvallet and of
Jehanne, a peasant. Fought at Shrewsbury as Squire to Fulk, Earl of
Montlice, and was Knighted 1403. Later acquired Barony of Beauvallet
in Bedfordshire. Was present at Battle of Agincourt and accompanied
Henry V on his Second Campaign to France. Captured Town and Castle of
Belrémy. _m._ 1421, Margaret, Countess of Belrémy, and returned with
her later to England. Domestic life somewhat Disturbed by Uncertain
Temper of Margaret and Unruly Behavour of his heir, Geoffrey (_q.v._).
Was Greatly Addicted in Old Age to the Recounting of his Early
Reminiscences, and derived Considerable Enjoyment from the Perusal
of the Chronicles of his close friend Alan, Earl of Montlice. Was
frequently heard to Deplore the Effeminacy of the Younger Generation.
_d._ 1452, of the Stone, which he Suffered with Great Fortitude.
GEOFFREY, 2nd Baron
_b._ 1423. Early exhibited signs of his Mother's Violent Disposition,
and Rebelled frequently against the Iron Rule of his Father. Quarrelled
with his brother Henry (_q.v._) and Bitterly Resented County of Belrémy
being bestowed on him. _m._ 1445, Alys, daughter of a Gentleman of
Inferior Lineage, thus enraging his Father. Soon became Permanently
Estranged from Simon as the Consequence of Embracing the Yorkist Party.
Steered a Perilous and Intricate Course through the Wars of the Roses,
and finally Deserted the Yorkist Cause upon the Mysterious Demise of
the Nephews of Richard III, which event he felt needed an Explanation
which was not Forthcoming. Opened communications with Henry, Earl of
Richmond but becoming Exasperated by the Cautious Policy of Henry, he
retired from Public Life, and spent the Remainder of his life upon his
Estates. _d._ 1486, of the Sweating-Sickness.
HENRY, Count of Belrémy
_b._ 1425. Believed firmly in the infallibility of his Father and
was always an Appreciative Auditor of his anecdotes. In consequence
of this Display of Filial Piety the lands and title of Belrémy were
Bestowed upon him. Made a Prudent Marriage in France and Maintained
a Dutiful Correspondence with his Father until the latter's Death in
1452. Disgusted with his Elder Brother's Vacillating Policy during the
Wars in England he cut off all Communication with him. The date of his
death is uncertain, but he left a Numerous Progeny, and was Universally
Lamented.
MARGARET
_b._ 1426. Sided with her Eldest Brother against her Father and
Second Brother, and Quarrelled Incessantly with her Mother. _m._, by
arrangement between Simon and Alan, Earl of Montlice, John, eldest son
of Alan. Several children were the result of this marriage, but John
died soon after his Accession to the title, and is Reported to have met
his End with a Smile on his Lips.
ALAN
_b._ 1429. Tried to enact the part of Peacemaker between his Father
and Eldest Brother. He became a Priest and died (date unknown), in the
Obscurity of a Monastery. S.P.
JOHN, 3rd Baron
_b._ 1446. Led a Retired Life throughout the Wars of the Roses and
devoted himself to the Study of Astrology. This so Preyed on his mind
that he died only three years after his Father, leaving no issue. S.P.
JOAN
_b._ 1447. Was renowned for the beauty of her Person, and the Mildness
of her Disposition. _m._ Robert, Lord Pounceby, and by him had several
children. But the Tranquillity of her Married Life was Disturbed soon
by the Execution of her Husband, 1471, after the Battle of Barnet. She
then Dedicated her Life to the Performance of Good Works, and died,
lamented by all, 1489.
HENRY, 4th Baron
Called the 'Iron-Handed.' _b._ 1450. Reputed to favour his Grandfather.
Early joined Henry, Earl of Richmond, in France, and afterwards
accompanied him to England. Took a prominent part in the Battle of
Bosworth, but was very Meagrely Rewarded for his services. Te amend
this Oversight on the part of Henry, he took as his 2nd Wife, Eleanor,
heiress of James, Earl of Malvallet, his 1st Wife having died without
issue. _d._ 1515, as the Result of a Fatal Fall in the Jousting Field,
to which Sport, even in old age, he was Extremely Partial.
ELIZABETH
_d._ 1487. Became a Nun, in consequence of an Indiscretion.
ISABELLA
_b._ 1488. Displayed signs of Impetuosity in early youth, and during
one of her Father's absences from Home. Eloped with a Mere Esquire.
Soon found life Insupportable, and was Attacked by Melancholy, and
passed into a Decline. S.P.
NICHOLAS, 5th Baron
Called the "Good Baron." _b._ 1490. Led a Life of Great Piety, and
married, 1512, Joanna, daughter and co-heiress of Henry, Lord Alreston.
Formed various plans for the Advancement of the Family, but these were
Unhappily Frustrated. He ended his life on Tower Hill, 1539, as an
outcome of a Misunderstanding with Henry VIII.
GEOFFREY
_b._ 1491. Died in Infancy, owing to Overtight Swaddling-Bands.
JOANNA
_b._ 1513. Her Pious Disposition and Wise Judgment early led her Father
to Predict that she was Destined to be the Prop of his Declining Years.
This Prediction remained Unfulfilled (see 5th Baron), and the lady,
upon hearing the Dreadful News of her Father's Death, fell into a
Succession of Fits, which Permanently Impaired her Intellect. S.P.
GEOFFREY
_b._ 1514. Shared his Father's Ambitions for the Advancement of the
Family, and Cherished Schemes for the Acquisition of an Earldom.
These being Frustrated by the Untimely End of his Father, and the
Confiscation of the Estates and Title, he shut himself off from the
World, and Dedicated the Remainder of his Life to Science. This was not
of long Duration, as he shortly afterwards met his End, owing to the
Unfortunate Outcome of the Combination of two Hitherto Undiscovered
Chemicals. S.P.
MARY
_b._ 1516. Married when still a Child to a Gentleman of Respectable
Lineage. Her Calmness of Temper and Philosophical Outlook were the
Admiration of her Acquaintances. Upon hearing the News of her Father's
End she is Reported to have said: "There goes Joanna's Mission. God's
Will be done." Her brother's Fate, as a Martyr to Science, induced her
to remark that it might have been Foreseen from the First.
HENRY, 6th Baron
_b._ 1517. Upon the death of his Father he Prudently withdrew to the
Continent, but returned on hearing of his Brother's End, and by Careful
Policy won back the confiscated Title and Estates. _m._ 1547, Adela,
daughter of a Nobleman of Large Fortune, and managed to Survive the
Reigns of Edward VI and Mary I. His Foresight led him secretly to
Forsake the Old Religion during the latter years of Mary's reign, and
to open Tentative Communications with the Protestant Party. Owing to an
Unfortunate Remark he fell into Disfavour under Elizabeth, but managed
to reinstate himself by the Judicious Tender of a Handsome Present. He
afterwards withdrew to his Estates, but his latter years were Disturbed
by the Impetuous Conduct of his Younger Son, whose Daring Spirit, and
Astonishing Exploits occasioned him Grave Misgivings. He passed away,
1580, in the arms of his heir, Gerard, who was said greatly to resemble
him.
NICHOLAS
_b._ 1518. He was Destined for the Church, but displayed so Vehement a
Repugnance for the Vocation that the Project was abandoned. He Devoted
his Life to the Consumption of Sack, and died of a Surfeit upon the
Occasion of his Brother's Marriage. S.P.
GERARD, 7th Baron
_b._ 1546.
ADELA
_b._ 1549.
NICHOLAS
_b._ 1551.
* * * * *
_BY THE SAME AUTHOR_
THESE OLD SHADES
SIMON THE COLDHEART
THE MASQUERADERS
THE GREAT ROXHYTHE
THE BLACK MOTH
HELEN
PASTEL
INSTEAD OF THE THORN