"Thinkest thou this same seer could not give me a lift from out my
trouble?"
"This same seer, I wot," replied Dodge, "is sore perplexed: some evil
and mischievous aspect doth afflict the horoscope of the nation--Mars
being conjunct with Venus and the Dragon's tail. Now, look to it,
master, it is no light matter that will move him; but almost or ere I
showed him the first glimpse of the business he waxed furious, and said
that he cared not if all the unwed hussies in Christendom were hung up
in a row, like rats on a string."
"It is Kate's birthday," answered the merchant, "to-night being the
feast of St Bartlemy; but, as thou knowest well, the astrologer that
cast her figure gave no hope of her amendment should this day pass and
never a husband. Who would yoke with a colt untamed? O Timothy! it were
well nigh to make an old man weep. I am a withered trunk. Better had I
been childless than have this proud wench to trouble mine house."
The old man here wept, and it was a grievous thing to see his wrinkled
cheeks become, as it were, but the sluices and channels of his tears.
Timothy, too, was something moved from his common posture; and once he
endeavoured to turn, as though he would hide his face from his master's
trouble.
He sought to speak, but an evil and husky sort of humour settled in his
throat, and he waited silently the subsiding of the sorrow he could not
quell.
Cornelius raised his head: a sudden thought seemed to animate him. A ray
had penetrated the gloomy envelope of his mind; and he peered through
the casement intently eyeing the cool atmosphere.
"I'll visit the cunning man myself, Timothy. If he hear me not, then can
I but return, weeping as I went." And with this speech he hastily
departed.
Now on this, the morrow of St Bartlemy, it so happened that Kate also
arose before the usual hour, and in a mood even more than ordinarily
strange and untoward. Her maiden was like to find it a task of no slight
enterprise, the attempt to adorn Kate's pretty person. Not a garment
would fit. She threw the whole furniture of her clothes-press on a heap,
and stamped on them for very rage. She looked hideous in her brown
Venice waistcoat; frightful in her orange tiffany farthingale;--absolutely
unbearable in her black velvet hood, wire ruff, and taffety gown. So
that in the end she was nigh going to bed again in the sulks, had not a
jacket of crimson satin, with slashed bodice, embroidered in gold twist,
taken her fancy. Her little steel mirror, not always the object of such
complacency, did for once reflect a beam of good humour, which so
bewitched Kate that for the next five minutes she found herself settling
into the best possible temper in the world.
"Give me my kerchief, lace scarf, and green silk hood, and my petticoat
with the border newly purfled. Hark! 'Tis the bell for prayers. Be quick
with my pantofles:--not those, wench--the yellow silk with silver
spangles. Now my rings and crystal bracelets. I would not miss early
matins to-day for the best jewel on an alderman's thumb."
"Anon, lady," replied her waiting-woman, with a sort of pert affectation
of meekness. But what should cause Kate to be so wonderfully attentive
to her devotions was a matter on which Janet could have no suspicions,
or at least would not dare to show them if she had.
Kate, being now attired, tripped forth, accompanied by her maid. As she
passed the half-closed door of the counting-house, Timothy, with one of
his most leaden looks, full of unmeaning, stood edgeways in the opening,
his lower side in advance, with the long arm ready for action.
"Fair mistress, Master Kelly would fain have a token to-day. He hath
sent you a rare device!"
"And what the better shall I be of his mummeries?" hastily replied the
lady. Timothy drew from his large leathern purse a curiously-twisted
ribband.
"He twined this knot for your comfort. Throw it over your left shoulder,
and it shall write the first letter of your gallant's name. A cypher of
rare workmanship."
Kate, apparently in anger, snatched the magic ribband, and, peradventure
it might be from none other design than to rid herself of the mystical
love-knot, but she tossed it from her with an air of great contumely,
when, by some disagreeable and untoward accident, it chanced to fly over
the self-same shoulder to which Timothy had referred. He made no reply,
but followed the token with his little grey eyes, apparently without any
sort of aim or concernment. Kate's eyes followed too; but verily it were
a marvellous thing to behold how the ribband shaped itself as it fell,
and yet to see how she stamped and stormed. Quick as the burst of her
proud temper she kicked aside the bauble, but not until the curl of the
letter had been sufficiently manifest. Timothy drew back into his den,
leaving the fair maid to the indulgence of her humours. But in the end
Kate's wrath was not over-difficult to assuage. With an air somewhat
dubious and disturbed she hastily thrust the token behind her stomacher
and departed.
The merchant's house being nigh unto the market cross, Kate's
prettily-spangled feet were soon safely conducted over the low
stepping-stones placed at convenient distances for the transit of
foot-passengers through the unpaved streets. Near a sort of style,
guarding the entrance to the churchyard, rose an immense pile of
buildings, cumbrous and uncouth. These were built something in the
fashion of an inverted pyramid; to wit, the smaller area occupying the
basement, and the larger spreading out into the topmost story. As she
turned the corner of this vast hive of habitation--for many families
were located therein--a gay cavalier, sumptuously attired, swept round
at the same moment. Man and maid stood still for one instant. With
unpropitious courtesy, an unlucky gust turned aside Kate's veil of real
Flanders point; and the two innocents, like silly sheep, were staring
into each other's eyes without either apology or rebuke. It did seem as
though Kate were not without knowledge of the courtly beau: a rich and
glowing vermilion came across her neck and face, like the gorgeous blush
of evening upon the cold bosom of a snow-cloud. But the youth eyed her
with a cool and deliberate glance, stepping aside carelessly as he
passed by. She seemed to writhe with some concealed anguish; yet her lip
curled proudly, and her bosom heaved, as though striving to throw off,
with one last and desperate struggle, the oppression that she endured.
In this disturbed and unquiet frame did Kate pass on to her orisons.
It may be needful to pause for a brief space in our narrative, whilst we
give some account of this goodly spark who had so unexpectedly, as it
might seem, unfitted the lady for the due exercise of her morning
devotions.
His dress was elegant and becoming, and of the most costly materials.
His hat was high and tapering, encircled by a rich band of gold and rare
stones. It was further ornamented by a black feather, drooping gently
towards the left shoulder. The brim was rather narrow; but then a
profusion of curls fell from beneath, partly hiding his lace collar of
beautiful workmanship and of the newest device. His beard was small and
pointed; and his whiskers displayed that graceful wave peculiar to the
high-bred gallants of the age. His neck was long, and the elegant
disposal of his head would have turned giddy the heads of half the dames
in the Queen's court. He wore a crimson cloak, richly embroidered: this
was lined throughout with blue silk, and thrown negligently on one side.
His doublet was grey, with slit sleeves; the arm parts, towards the
shoulder, wide and slashed;--but who shall convey an adequate idea of
the brilliant green breeches, tied far below the knee with yellow
ribbands, red cloth hose, and great shoe-roses? For ourselves we own our
incompetence, and proceed, glancing next at his goodly person. In size
he was not tall nor unwieldy, but of a reasonable stature, such as
denotes health, activity, and a frame capable of great endurance. He
stepped proudly along, his very gait indicating superiority.
The town gallants looked on his person with envy, and on his light
rapier with mistrust. In sooth, he was a proper man for stealing a
lady's heart, either in hall or bower. Many had been his victims;--many
were then in the last extremities of love. But of him it was currently
spoken that he had never yet been subjected to its influence.
There be divers modes of falling into love. Some slip in through means
of themselves; to wit, from sheer vanity, being never so well pleased as
when they are the objects of admiration. Some from sheer contradiction,
and from the well-known tendency of extremes to meet. Some, for very
idlesse; and some for very love. But in none of these modes had the boy
Cupid made arrow-holes through the heart of our illustrious hero; for,
as we before intimated, no yielding place did seem visible, as the
common discourse testified. How far this report was true the sequel of
our history will set forth.
Now, this gay gallant being the wonder and admiration of the whole
place, many were the unthrifty hours spent in such profitless discourse
by the wives and daughters of the townsfolk, to the great discomfort and
discredit of their liege lords. He was at present abiding in the
college, where John Dee had apartments distinct from the warden's house,
along with his former coadjutor and seer, Edward Kelly. Since the last
quarrel between these two confederates, they had long been estranged;
but Kelly had recently come for a season to visit his old master: when
the Doctor returned from Trebona, in Bohemia, whence he had been invited
back to his own country by Queen Elizabeth, he having received great
honours and emoluments from foreign princes. This youth, being son to
the governor of the castle at Trebona, was about to travel for his
improvement and understanding in foreign manners. At the suit of his
parents, Dee undertook the charge of his education and safe return.
Since then young Rodolf had generally resided under Dr Dee's roof, and
accompanied him on his accession to the wardenship. His accent was
decidedly foreign, though he had resided some years in Britain, but not
sufficiently so for Mancestrian ears to distinguish it from a sort of
lisping euphuism then fashionable at court and amongst the higher ranks
of society. An appearance of mystery was connected with his person. His
birthplace and condition were not generally divulged, and though of an
open and gallant bearing, yet on this head he was not very
communicative. Mystery begets wonder and excitement--a sort of interest
usually attached to subjects not easily understood. When it emanates
from an object capable of enthralling the affections, this feeling soon
kindles admiration, and admiration ripens into love. No wonder, then, if
all tender and compassionate dames were ready to open upon him their
dread artillery of sighs and glances, and the more especially as it soon
began to be manifest that success was nigh hopeless. The heart
entrenched, the wearer was impenetrable.
Kate's oddly-assorted brain had not failed to run a-rambling at times
after the gallant stranger. He had heard much of her beauty, and
likewise of her uncertain humours. Each fancied the opposite party
impregnable; and this alone, if none other motive had arisen, formed a
sufficiently strong temptation to begin the attack. Kate was
particularly punctual at church, and once or twice he caught an
equivocating glance towards the warden's seat, and he really did at
times fancy he should like to play at "_taming the shrew_." Kate was
sure the stranger slighted her. He treated her, and her only, with an
air of neglect she could not altogether account for, and she was in
month's mind to make the young cavalier crouch at her feet. How this was
to be contrived could only be guessed at by a woman, and we will not let
the reader into all the secrets of Kate's sanctuary. Suffice it to say,
that in so harmlessly attempting to beguile her prey into the snare,
the lady fell over head and ears into it herself. In a word Kate was in
love! And this was the more grievous, inasmuch as her lofty bearing
hitherto would not allow her to whisper the matter even to her own
bosom; and the pent-up and smothering flame was making sad havoc with
poor Kate's repose.
She had ofttimes suspected the state of her heart; but instead of
sighing, pining, and twanging her guitar to love-sick ditties, she would
fly into so violent a rage at her own folly that nothing might quell the
disturbance until fairly worn out by its own vehemency. No one suspected
the truth--yes, one forsooth--gentle reader, canst thou guess? It was no
less a personage than our one-shouldered friend Timothy Dodge! How the
cunning rogue had contrived to get at the secret is more than we dare
tell. Sure enough he had it; and as certain too that another should be
privy to the fact--to wit, Edward Kelly the seer. Dodge was a fitting
tool for this intriguer, and well able to help him out at a pinch.
Affairs were in this position when our story commenced. Rodolf had
formidable auxiliaries at hand, had he been disposed to make the attack;
but his stay was now short--Kate was petulant and perverse--the siege
might be tedious. Just on the verge of relinquishing he met Kate, as we
have before seen, going to church. He caught her for the once completely
off her guard, and the rich blush that ensued set a crowd of odd fancies
jingling through his brain. It was just as the old chimes were ringing
their doleful chant from the steeple, but these hindered not a whit the
other changes that were set agoing. Not aware of the alteration in his
course, he was much amazed when he found himself striding somewhat
irreverently down the great aisle of the church, towards the choir, from
whence the low chanting of the psalms announced that service was already
begun.
It was the opening of a bright autumnal day. The softened lights
streamed playfully athwart the grim and shadowy masses that lay on the
chequered pavement, like the smiles of infancy sporting on the dark
bosom of the tomb. The screen formed a rich foreground, in half-shadow,
before the east window. The first beam of the morning, clothed in
tenfold brightness, burst through the variegated tracery. Prophets,
saints, and martyrs shone there, gloriously portrayed in heaven's own
light.
Rodolf approached the small door leading into the choir,
[Illustration: COLLEGIATE CHURCH, MANCHESTER.
_Drawn by G. Pickering. Engraved by Edw^d Finden._]
when his vacant eye almost unconsciously alighted on a female form
kneeling just within the recess. A ray, from her patron saint belike,
darting through the eastern oriel, came full upon her dark and glowing
eye. She turned towards the stranger, but in a moment her head was bent
as lowly as before, and the ray had lost its power. Rodolf suddenly
retreated. Passing through a side door, he left the church, directing
his steps towards the low and dark corridors of the college. Near the
entrance to his chamber, on a narrow bench, sate a well-caparisoned page
tuning his lute. His attire was costly, and his raiment all redolent
with the most fragrant perfume. This youth, when very young, was sent
over as the companion, or rather at that time as the playmate of his
master. He was now dignified with the honourable title of page, and his
affection for Rodolf was unbounded.
"Boy," said the cavalier, something moodily, "come into the chamber.
Stay--fetch me a sack-posset, prythee. I am oppressed, and weary with my
morning's ramble."
Now the boy did marvel much at his master's sudden return, but more
especially at the great fatigue consequent on that short
interval;--knowing, too, that a particularly copious and substantial
breakfast had anticipated his departure.
"And yet, Altdorff, I am not in a mood for much drink. Give us a touch
of those chords. I feel sad at times, and vapourish."
They entered into a well-furnished apartment. The ceiling was composed
of cross-beams curiously wrought. On one of these was represented a grim
head in the act of devouring a child--which tradition affirmed was the
great giant Tarquin at his morning's repast. The room was fitted up with
cumbrous elegance. A few pieces of faded tapestry covered one side of
the apartment. In a recess stood a tester bed, ornamented with black
velvet, together with curtains of black stuff and a figured coverlet. A
wainscot cupboard displayed its curiously-carved doors, near to which
hung two pictures, or tables as they were called, representing the fair
Lucretia and Mary Magdalen. A backgammon-board lay on the window-seat;
three shining tall-backed, oaken chairs, with a table of the same
well-wrought material, and irons beautifully embossed, and a striped
Turkey rug, formed a sumptuous catalogue, when we consider the manner of
furnishing that generally prevailed in those days.
The page sat on a corner seat beneath the window. He struck a few wild
chords.
"Not that--not that, good Altdorff. It bids one linger too much of
home-longings."
Here the boy's eyes glistened, and a tremulous motion of the lip showed
how his heart bounded at the word.
"Prythee, give us the song thou wast conning yesterday."
The page began with a low prelude, but was again interrupted.
"Nay, 'tis not thus. Give me that wild love-ditty thou knowest so well.
I did use to bid thee be silent when thou wouldest have worried mine
ears with it. But in sooth the morning looks so languishing and tender
that it constrains the bosom, I verily think, to its own softness."
The page seemed to throw his whole soul into the wild melody which
followed this request. We give it, with a few verbal alterations, as
follows:--