"What, my prince of usurers!" exclaimed Lord Roos, in a mocking tone;
"my worthy money-lender, who never takes more than cent. per cent., and
art ill content with less; who never exacts more than the penalty of thy
bond,--unless more may be got; who never drives a hard bargain with a
needy man--by thine own account; who never persecutes a debtor--as the
prisons shall vouch for thee; who art just in all thy transactions--as
every man who hath had dealings with thee will affirm; and who knows not
how to lie, to cheat, to cozen--as some usurers do."
"You are pleasant, my lord," Sir Francis replied.
"I mean to be so," Lord Roos said; "for I esteem thee for thy rare
qualities. I know not thy peer for cunning and knavery. Thy mischievous
schemes are so well-conceived that they prove thee to have an absolute
genius for villany. Scruples thou hast none; and considerations and
feelings which might move men less obdurate than thyself, have no
influence over thee. To ruin a man is with thee mere pastime; and groans
of the oppressed are music in thine ears."
"Aha! a good jest. You were always merry with me, my lord."
"Yes, when I borrowed money from thee--but not when I had to repay it
twice over. I laughed not then; but was foolish enough to threaten to
take thy life. My anger is past now. But we must drink together--a
rousing toast."
"At your lordship's pleasure," Sir Francis replied.
"Cyprien! a flask of wine, and thy largest goblet," Lord Roos cried.
"'Tis well! Now pour the whole into the flagon. Do me reason in this
cup, Sir Francis?"
"What! in this mighty cup, my lord?" the knight replied. "Nay, 'tis too
much, I swear. If I become drunken, the sin will lie at your door."
"Off with it! without more ado. And let the toast be what thou
practisest--'Pillage and Extortion!'"
"I cannot drink that toast, my lord. 'Twill choke me."
"'Sdeath! villain, but thou _shalt_, or thou shalt never taste wine
more. Down with it, man! And now your signature to this paper?"
"My signature!" Sir Francis cried, reeling from the effect of the wine
he had swallowed. "Nay, my good lord; I can sign nothing that I have not
read. What is it?"
"A blank sheet," Lord Roos rejoined. "I will fill it up afterwards."
"Then, my lord, I refuse--that is, I decline--that is, I had rather
not, if your lordship pleases."
"But my lordship pleases otherwise. Give him pen and ink, and set him
near the table."
This was done; and Sir Francis regarded the paper with swimming eyes.
"Now, your name,--written near the bottom of the sheet," Lord Roos
cried.
"'Tis done under com--compulsion; and I pro--protest against it."
"Sign, I say," the young nobleman exclaimed, rapping the table
peremptorily.
On this, Sir Francis wrote his name in the place indicated.
"Enough!" Lord Roos cried, snatching up the paper. "This is all I want.
Now set him on the table, that his partner may have him in full view
when he arrives. 'Twill give him a foretaste of what he may himself
expect."
"What mean you, ruff--ruffians? 'Tis an indignity to which I shall not
submit," cried Sir Francis, who was now, however, too far gone to offer
any resistance.
A leathern girdle was found, with which he was fastened to the chair, so
as to prevent him slipping from it; and in this state he was hoisted
upon the table, and set with his face to the door; looking the very
picture of inebriety, with his head drooping on one side, his arms
dangling uselessly down, and his thin legs stretched idly out. After
making some incoherent objections to this treatment, he became
altogether silent, and seemed to fall asleep. His elevation was received
with shouts of laughter from the whole company.
The incident had not taken place many minutes, and a round had scarcely
been drunk by the guests, when a loud and peremptory summons was heard
at the door. The noise roused even the poor drunkard in the chair, who,
lifting up his head, stared about him with vacant eyes.
"Let the door be opened," the same authoritative voice exclaimed, which
had before ordered its closure.
The mandate was obeyed; and, amidst profound silence, which suddenly
succeeded the clashing of glasses, and expressions of hilarity, Sir
Giles Mompesson entered, with his body-guard of myrmidons behind him.
Habited in black, as was his custom, with a velvet mantle on his
shoulder, and a long rapier by his side, he came forward with a measured
step and assured demeanour. Though he must necessarily have been
surprised by the assemblage he found--so much more numerous and splendid
than he could have anticipated--he betrayed no signs whatever of
embarrassment. Nor, though his quick eye instantly detected Sir Francis,
and he guessed at once why the poor knight had been so scandalously
treated, did he exhibit any signs of displeasure, or take the slightest
notice of the circumstance; reserving this point for consideration, when
his first business should be settled. An additional frown might have
darkened his countenance; but it was so stern and sombre, without it,
that no perceptible change could be discerned; unless it might be in the
lightning glances he cast around, as if seeking some one he might call
to account presently for the insult. But no one seemed willing to reply
to the challenge. Though bold enough before he came, and boastful of
what they would do, they all looked awed by his presence, and averted
their gaze from him. There was, indeed, something so formidable in the
man, that to shun a quarrel with him was more a matter of prudence than
an act of cowardice; and on the present occasion, no one liked to be
first to provoke him; trusting to his neighbour to commence the attack,
or awaiting the general outbreak.
There was one exception, however, and that was Jocelyn Mounchensey, who,
so far from desiring to shun Sir Giles's searching regards, courted
them; and as the knight's eagle eye ranged round the table and fell upon
him, the young man (notwithstanding the efforts of his pacific neighbour
in the furred cloak to restrain him) suddenly rose up, and throwing all
the scorn and defiance he could muster into his countenance, returned
Mompesson's glance with one equally fierce and menacing.
A bitter smile curled Sir Giles's lip at this reply to his challenge,
and he regarded the young man fixedly, as if to grave his features upon
his memory. Perhaps they brought Mounchensey's father to mind, for Sir
Giles withdrew his gaze for a moment to reflect, and then looked again
at Jocelyn with fresh curiosity. If he had any doubts as to whom he
beheld, they were removed by Sir Francis, who managed to hiccup forth--
"'Tis he, Sir Giles--'tis Jocelyn Mounchensey."
"I thought as much," Sir Giles muttered. "A moment, young man," he
cried, waving his hand imperiously to his antagonist. "Your turn will
come presently."
And without bestowing further notice on Jocelyn, who resisted all his
neighbour's entreaties to him to sit down, Sir Giles advanced towards
the middle chamber, where he paused, and took off his cap, having
hitherto remained covered.
In this position, he looked like a grand inquisitor attended by his
familiars.
CHAPTER VIII. Of Lupo Vulp, Captain Bludder, Clement Lanyere, and Sir Giles's other Myrmidons.
Close behind Sir Giles, and a little in advance of the rest of the
myrmidons, stood Lupo Vulp, the scrivener.
Lupo Vulp was the confidential adviser of our two extortioners, to whom
they referred all their nefarious projects. He it was who prepared their
bonds and contracts, and placed out their ill-gotten gains at exorbitant
usance. Lupo Vulp was in all respects worthy of his employers, being
just as wily and unscrupulous as they were, while, at the same time, he
was rather better versed in legal tricks and stratagems, so that he
could give them apt counsel in any emergency. A countenance more replete
with cunning and knavery than that of Lupo Vulp, it would be difficult
to discover. A sardonic smile hovered perpetually about his mouth, which
was garnished with ranges of the keenest and whitest teeth. His features
were sharp; his eyes small, set wide apart, of a light gray colour, and
with all the slyness of a fox lurking within their furtive glances.
Indeed, his general resemblance to that astute animal must have struck
a physiognomist. His head was shaped like that of a fox, and his hair
and beard were of a reddish-tawny hue. His manner was stealthy,
cowering, suspicious, as if he feared a blow from every hand. Yet Lupo
Vulp could show his teeth and snap on occasions. He was attired in a
close-fitting doublet of russety-brown, round yellow hose, and long
stockings of the same hue. A short brown mantle and a fox-skin cap
completed his costume.
The leader of the troop was Captain Bludder, a huge Alsatian bully, with
fiercely-twisted moustachios, and fiery-red beard cut like a spade. He
wore a steeple-crowned hat with a brooch in it, a buff jerkin and boots,
and a sword and buckler dangled from his waist. Besides these, he had a
couple of petronels stuck in his girdle. The captain drank like a fish,
and swaggered and swore like twenty troopers.
The rear of the band was formed by the tipstaves--stout fellows with
hooks at the end of their poles, intended to capture a fugitive, or hale
him along when caught. With these were some others armed with
brown-bills. No uniformity prevailed in the accoutrements of the party,
each man arraying himself as he listed. Some wore old leather jerkins
and steel skirts; some, peascod doublets of Elizabeth's time, and
trunk-hose that had covered many a limb besides their own; others, slops
and galligaskins; while the poorer sort were robed in rusty gowns of
tuft-mockado or taffeta, once guarded with velvet or lined with skins,
but now tattered and threadbare. Their caps and bonnets were as varied
as their apparel,--some being high-crowned, some trencher-shaped, and
some few wide in the leaf and looped at the side. Moreover, there was
every variety of villainous aspect; the savage scowl of the desperado,
the cunning leer of the trickster, and the sordid look of the mean
knave. Several of them betrayed, by the marks of infamy branded on their
faces, or by the loss of ears, that they had passed through the hands of
the public executioner.
Amongst these there was one with a visage more frightfully mutilated
than those of his comrades; the nose having been slit, and subsequently
sewed together again, but so clumsily that the severed parts had only
imperfectly united, communicating a strange, distorted, and forbidding
look to the physiognomy. Clement Lanyere, the owner of this gashed and
ghastly face, who was also reft of his ears, and branded on the cheek,
had suffered infamy and degradation, owing to the licence he had given
his tongue in respect to the Star-Chamber. Prosecuted in that court by
Sir Giles Mompesson, as a notorious libeller and scandaller of the
judges and first personages of the realm, he was found guilty, and
sentenced accordingly. The court showed little leniency to such
offenders; but it was a matter of grace that his clamorous tongue was
not torn out likewise, in addition to the punishment actually inflicted.
A heavy fine and imprisonment accompanied the corporal penalties. Thus
utterly ruined and degraded, and a mark for the finger of scorn to point
at, Clement Lanyere, whose prospects had once been fair enough, as his
features had been prepossessing, became soured and malevolent,
embittered against the world, and at war with society. He turned
promoter, or, in modern parlance, informer; lodging complaints, seeking
out causes for prosecutions, and bringing people into trouble in order
to obtain part of the forfeits they incurred for his pains. Strange to
say, he attached himself to Sir Giles Mompesson,--the cause of all his
misfortunes,--and became one of the most active and useful of his
followers. It was thought no good could come of this alliance, and that
the promoter only bided his time to turn upon his master, against whom
it was only natural he should nourish secret vengeance. But, if it were
so, Sir Giles seemed to entertain no apprehensions of him, probably
thinking he could crush him whenever he pleased. Either way the event
was long deferred. Clement Lanyere, to all appearance, continued to
serve his master zealously and well; and Sir Giles gave no sign whatever
of distrust, but, on the contrary, treated him with increased
confidence. The promoter was attired wholly in black--cloak, cap,
doublet, and hose were of sable. And as, owing to the emoluments
springing from his vile calling, his means were far greater than those
of his comrades; so his habiliments were better. When wrapped in his
mantle, with his mutilated countenance covered with a mask which he
generally wore, the informer might have passed for a cavalier; so tall
and well formed was his figure, and so bold his deportment. The
dangerous service he was employed upon, which exposed him to insult and
injury, required him to be well armed; and he took care to be so.
Two or three of Sir Giles's myrmidons, having been selected for
particular description, the designations of some others must
suffice--such as Staring Hugh, a rascal of unmatched effrontery; the Gib
Cat and Cutting Dick, dissolute rogues from the Pickt-hatch in Turnbull
Street, near Clerkenwell; old Tom Wootton, once a notorious harbourer of
"masterless men," at his house at Smart's Quay, but now a sheriffs
officer; and, perhaps, it ought to be mentioned, that there were some
half-dozen swash-bucklers and sharpers from Alsatia, under the command
of Captain Bludder, who was held responsible for their good conduct.
Such was Sir Giles's body-guard.
On his entrance, it may be remarked, the curtain in front of the raised
table was more closely drawn, so as completely to conceal the guests.
But their importance might be inferred from the serving-men, in rich
liveries, standing before the traverse.
Profound silence reigned throughout the assemblage.
Having uncovered, as before mentioned, and made a formal reverence to
the company, Sir Giles spoke as follows:--
"I crave your pardon, worthy Sirs," he said, in a distinct and resolute
voice, "for this intrusion, and regret to be the means of marring your
festivity. I came hither wholly unprepared to find such an assemblage.
Yet, though I would willingly have chosen a more fitting opportunity for
my visit, and would postpone, if I could, to another occasion, the
unpleasant duty I have to fulfil; the matter is urgent, and will not
admit of delay. You will hold me excused, therefore, if I proceed with
it, regardless of your presence; and I am well assured no let or
interruption will be offered me, seeing I act with the royal licence and
authority, of which I am the unworthy representative."
"Truly, your conduct requires explanation," Jocelyn Mounchensey cried,
in a mocking tone. "If I had not been here in London, I should have
judged, from your appearance, and that of your attendants, that a band
of desperate marauders had broken in upon us, and that we must draw our
swords to defend our lives, and save the house from pillage. But after
what you have said, I conclude you to be the sheriff, come with your
followers to execute some writ of attachment; and therefore, however
annoying the presence of such a functionary may be,--however ill-timed
may be your visit, and unmannerly your deportment,--we are bound not to
molest you."
Provocation like this was rarely addressed to Sir Giles; and the choler
occasioned by it was increased by the laughter and cheers of the
company. Nevertheless he constrained his anger, replying in a stern,
scornful tone--
"I would not counsel you to molest me, young man. The mistake you have
committed in regard to myself may be pardoned in one of your evident
inexperience; who, fresh from the boorish society of the country, finds
himself, for the first time, amongst well-bred gentlemen. Of all here
present you are probably the sole person ignorant that I am Sir Giles
Mompesson. But it is scarcely likely that they should be aware, as I
chance to be, that the clownish insolent who has dared to wag his tongue
against me, is the son of a Star-Chamber delinquent."