NEWS FROM LONDON
You may be sure that the rest of the dinner went that day untasted from
Lord Caversham's table. For all who sat at the board forgot to eat,
while they listened to the story, a strange one indeed, that my lord
told, with his arm about Rupert's shoulders.
"Thirteen years ago come Eastertide," said my lord Caversham, "I
was sent upon an embassy by the Elector Palatine, whose fortunes
I followed, unto the Emperor Ferdinand. The country all was sore
distressed with war. Armies of both parties, of the Emperor and of the
Protestant princes, were marching to and fro. I was myself stayed, for
want of fitting escort, at a town called Rodersheim, upon the borders
of Bohemia.
"While I lay there, a battle was fought beneath the very walls of the
town, wherein the Emperor's troops got the upper hand, but suffered
heavy loss. Their wounded men were brought in sorry state into our
town, which speedily was filled to overflowing. A piteous sight it
was to see those poor fellows dying, more than one, for mere lack of
tendance!
"Now when night was falling on the groaning town, there halted at my
door a rude country cart, in which lay a man who seemed near unto
death, and a fair woman, who held his head on her knees and wept as
one distraught. She made shift to tell me that she was born Venetia
Fernefould, daughter to his Grace of Barrisden, and that the man she
tended was her husband, Edward Lucas, a captain in the Emperor's
service.
"She had been with him on this expedition, and when the battle was
over, she had sought and found him amid the slain. She had given all
that she had to some country folk to fetch him in that poor cart unto
the town. But now that she had brought him thither, she could find
neither roof to shelter him, nor surgeon to dress his hurt. So she had
sought me, as a fellow-countryman, and she prayed me, in the name of
our common English blood, to give her husband succor.
"Thus Captain Lucas and Lady Venetia, his wife, found harborage in
my quarters. He was sore wounded indeed, with a great sword slash in
the breast and shoulder, yet against all expectation he made a happy
recovery. This was thanks partly to his own great vigor, and more,
perhaps, to the loving care that his wife spent upon him.
"While Lucas lay upon his bed of sickness, his son was born, there in
my quarters. I myself, as nearest friend to the poor parents, had him
christened and called him Robert, and stood sponsor for him. 'Twas in
those days I saw the red mark on his breast and shoulder--the seal
that his birth had set upon the lad, as it seemeth now, for his later
happiness.
"Now when my godson was a month old, Captain Lucas was well
recovered. He went his way with his wife and child, and I went mine
upon my embassy, and never again did I set eyes on any of the three
until this hour. For though much kindness had been between us and
affection,--for Lucas was a gallant fellow, and his wife was one to win
all hearts,--yet so distracted was the country that there was little
sending of letters, or hope that friend might hear from friend.
"'Twas only through roundabout channels that I learned, near two years
later, that Lucas and his sweet lady, who was ever at his side, had
perished months before of a fever that had swept their camp. And I made
no doubt but that their little child had died with them."
By this time, if Merrylips had been any but a sweet-tempered little
girl, she would have been almost jealous of Rupert. For her own
adventures had quite paled beside this story of Captain Lucas's son,
who had been so many years lost and was now so strangely found. She
stood almost unheeded by Lord Caversham's chair, while the men asked
Rupert questions, as if they were ready to believe him, at last.
Thus encouraged, Rupert told Lord Caversham all that he had told
Merrylips, on that bleak day among the willows, and showed the ring
that had been his mother's. And then Merrylips was bidden show her
ring, and tell all that she had learned of the Lady Venetia's story.
"Mark it well," said Lord Caversham, when all had been told. "The
lady's English kinsfolk knew only of two children of hers, that were
dead in infancy. They had been told no word of the birth of this third
child. No doubt letters were sent, and in the chances of war were lost.
So there was none to seek and find this little waif, when his parents
were taken from him.
"And when he came into England, a mere child, with no friend to help
him save a thick-witted trooper who could scarce speak the English
tongue, small wonder there was none to listen to him! Of a truth,
godson," he ended, "'twas a happy wind that blew thee unto Ryeborough!
I mistrust I am the only man in England,--nay, in all the world,
perchance,--that could piece together thy story and say with certainty
that thou art thy father's son."
Then at last Lord Caversham let Rupert rise from his knee, but he still
kept his hand upon him.
"Thou art a good lad of thine inches, Robert," said he, and then his
eyes began to laugh, with just the trick that Dick Fowell's eyes had.
"Look you," he spoke, "now that my Dick is grown, I need a young lad
to sit at my table and ride at my bridle-hand. What sayst thou, wife?
Shall we keep this godson of mine and make a good Parliament man of
him?"
Oh, but at that Rupert backed away quickly from my lord, and grew red
to the roots of his hair!
"Ah, but, my lord," he said, "I am a king's man, like Merrylips and
like Cornet Venner."
For the first time Munn's heart seemed to warm toward Rupert at those
words.
"I do beseech you, my lord," Munn said, "let the boy go unto the Lady
Sybil Fernefould, who is now dwelling in my father's house at Walsover.
She is blood-kin to the lad, his own aunt, and will make him welcome
unto her, I dare undertake."
"Ay, and make an arrant Cavalier of him, like all you Venners," my lord
answered. "And if I refuse, no doubt, Cornet Venner, you will steal him
away from under my face and eyes, as you did your young sister here
from Mr. Lowry's keeping."
Perhaps Munn did not know that so much of Merrylips' story had been
told to Dick Fowell and his sisters, and through them had reached
Lord Caversham. He grew quite red and flustered, and made no more
suggestions.
For a moment Merrylips was quite alarmed. She thought that now that
their only champion was silenced, Rupert would indeed be kept forever
at Ryeborough castle. But she found that, after the fashion of grown
folk, Lord Caversham was only jesting.
"Dick," he was saying next instant, quite soberly, "what sayst thou to
a month's leave of absence? 'Twere well perhaps that thou shouldst go
down into the west with these three lads."
Once more Merrylips was astonished to hear Munn thus lumped with her
and Rupert, as if he were but a boy!
"Thou shalt lay open all the matter," went on Lord Caversham, "touching
this boy's birth and kinship, to Sir Thomas Venner, and to Lady Sybil,
even as I would do, could I myself go thither. And haply among the
men that survived the assault of Monksfield they may find the trooper
Hinkel, to tell his part in the story. For though this youngster might
find it hard to prove his claim to the name of Lucas in a court of
law, 'tis his in right and justice, and so I will maintain. And for Ned
Lucas's sake, I would fain see the child acknowledged by his kinsfolk."
"I'll do my best endeavor, sir," Dick Fowell promised. "So soon as you
can get us safe conducts and arrange for Cornet Venner's exchange,
we'll be off for Walsover."
At that Merrylips longed to cry "Hurrah!" as Tibbott Venner would have
done. Indeed her face broke into smiles, as she looked at Rupert, and
then at Lord Caversham. She would gladly have said that she was much
beholden to him, but she feared to be too forward, with Munn looking on.
But Lord Caversham caught her eye. He was just asking kindly, "Wouldst
thou say aught unto me, lad?" when a serving-fellow came to his side,
and bent and whispered, and laid a packet in his hand.
"A messenger post-haste from London, eh?" said Lord Caversham.
With a grave face of business, such as he had not yet shown, he said,
"By your leaves!" and opened and looked upon the letters that lay
within the packet.
When he glanced up, he was smiling in a dry fashion, as if he were but
one part mirthful and the other part vexed. He tossed the letters on
the table.
"Here's like to be a merry meeting among kindred!" he cried. "Cornet
Venner, you'll be blithe to know that your cousin, Will Lowry of
Larkland, is riding hither, as fast as horse can bear him."