THE UNEXPECTED.
"The affair cries haste.
And speed must answer it."--_Othello_.
At two o'clock that afternoon,--it was Tuesday, the third day of
March,--Master Marryott and Capt. Christopher Bottle rode northward from
Smithfield bars, in somewhat different aspect and mood from those in
which they had gone through their adventure in the same neighborhood the
previous night. They were well mounted; for Kit Bottle was not the man
to be gulled by the jinglers of the Smithfield horse-market, and knew,
too well for his own good reputation, how to detect every trick by which
the jockeys palmed off their jades on buyers who judged only by
appearances.
They were fitly armed, too; for Hal, before rejoining the captain, had
procured pistols as reinforcements to his rapier and dagger, and Kit had
so far exceeded instructions as to do likewise. The captain as yet knew
not what Hal's mission was, and he was too true a soldier to exhibit any
curiosity, if he felt any. But there was always a possibility of use
for weapons, in travelling in those days; even on the much-frequented
road from London to St. Albans ("as common as the way between St. Albans
and London," said Poins, of Doll Tearsheet), in which thoroughfare,
until he should turn out beyond Barnet. Hal's course lay. It was a
highway that, not far out of London, became like all other roads of the
time narrow and rutty, often a mere ditch below the level of the fields,
woods, or commons, at either side; rarely flanked, as in later times, by
hedges, walls, or fences of any kind; passing by fewer houses, and
through smaller villages, than it is now easy to imagine its doing.
On this, as on every English road, most passenger travel was by
horseback or afoot, although the great, had their coaches, crude and
slow-moving. Most transportation of goods was by pack-horse, the
carriers going in numerous company for safety; though huge, lumbering,
covered stage-wagons had already appeared on certain chief highways,
with a record of something like two miles an hour. The royal post for
the bearing of letters was in a primitive and uncertain state.
Travelling by post was unknown, in the later sense of the term: such as
it was, it was a luxury of the great, who had obvious means of arranging
for relays of horses; and of state messengers, who might press horses
for the queen's service. When ordinary men were in haste, and needed
fresh horses, they might buy them, or trade for them, or hire them from
carriers, or from stable-keepers where such existed. But the two animals
obtained by Bottle in Smithfield, though neither as shapely nor as small
as Spanish jennets, were quite sufficient for the immediate
purpose,--the bearing of their riders, without stop, to Welwyn.
Islington and Highgate were passed without incident, and Hal, while
soothed in his anxiety to perform his mission without a hitch, began to
think again that the business was too easy to be interesting. As a young
gentleman of twenty-two who had read "The Faerie Queen" for the romance
and not for the allegory, he would have liked some opportunity to play
the fighting knight in service of his queen. On Finchley Common he
looked well about, half in dread, half in hope; whereupon Captain
Bottle, as taking up a subject apropos, began to discourse upon highway
robbers. From considering the possibilities of a present encounter with
them, he fell to discussing their profession in a business light.
"An there must be vile laws to ruin gentlemen withal, and hard peace to
take the bread out of true soldiers' mouths, beshrew me but bold robbing
on the highway is choicer business than a parson's, or a lawyer's, or a
lackey's in some great house, or even coney-catching in the taverns!
When I was put to it to get my beef and clary one way or another, I
stayed in London, thinking to keep up my purse by teaching fence; but
'tis an overcrowded vocation, and the rogues that can chatter the most
Italian take all the cream. So old Kit must needs betake himself to a
gentlemanly kind of gull-catching, never using the false dice till the
true went against him, look you; nor bullying a winner out of the stakes
when they could be had peaceably; and always working alone, disdaining
to fellow with rascally gangs. But often I have sighed that I did not as
Rumney did,--he that was mine ancient in the campaigns in Spain and
Ireland. When the nation waxed womanish, and would have no more of war,
Rumney, for love of the country, took to the highways, and I have heard
he hath thrived well about Sherwood forest and toward Yorkshire. 'Twas
my choice of a town life hindered me being his captain on the road as I
had been in the wars. I hear he calleth himself captain now! Though he
puts his head oftener into the noose than I, and runs more risk of sword
and pistol, his work is the worthier of a soldier and gentleman for
that. Yet I do not call Rumney gentleman, neither! A marvellous scurvy
rogue! But no coward. Would that thy business might take us so far as we
should fall in with the rascal! I should well like to drink a gallon of
sack with the rascally cur, in memory of old times, or to stab him in
the paunch for a trick he did me about a woman in the Low Countries!"
Finchley Common was crossed without threat of danger, the only rogues
met being of the swindling, begging, feigning, pilfering order, all
promptly recognized and classified by the experienced captain. Nor did
Whetston or Barnet or Hatfield, or the intervening country, yield any
event, save that a clock struck six, and the day--gray enough at
best--was on the wane when they passed through Hatfield. They had made
but five miles an hour, the road, though frozen, being uneven and
difficult, and Hal assuming that the pursuivant, ignorant of a plan to
forewarn Sir Valentine, would not greatly hasten. He relied on the
hour's start he had taken out of London, and he saved his horses to meet
any demand for speed that might suddenly arise. At the worst, if the
officer and his men came up behind him, he could increase his pace and
outride them to Welwyn. And thus it was that he let no northbound riders
pass him, and that when such riders, of whatever aspect, appeared in the
distant rear, he spurred forward sufficiently to leave them out of
sight.
On the hill, two or three miles beyond Hatfield, he stopped and looked
back over the lower country, but could make out no group of horsemen in
the gathering darkness. His destination was now near at hand, and he was
still unsettled between opposite feelings,--satisfaction that his
errand seemed certain of accomplishment, regret that there seemed no
prospect of narrow work by which he might a little distinguish himself
in his own eyes. The last few miles he rode in silence, Bottle having
ceased prattling and become meditative under the influence of nightfall.
It was seven o'clock when they rode across the brook into close view of
Welwyn church at the left of the road, and a few minutes later when they
drew up before the wall in front of Fleetwood house,--of which Hal knew
the location, through visits in former years,--and began to pound on the
barred gate with their weapons, and to call "Ho, within!"
The mansion beyond the wall was a timbered one, its gables backed by
trees. It had no park, and its wall enclosed also a small orchard at the
rear, and a smaller courtyard at the front. At one side of the gate was
a porter's lodge, but this was at present vacant, or surely the knocking
on the wooden gate would have brought forth its occupant. It seemed as
if the house was deserted, and Hal had a sudden inward sense of
unexpected obstacle, perhaps insuperable, in his way. His heart beat a
little more rapidly, until Kit, having ridden to where he could see the
side of the house, reported a light in the side window of a rear
chamber. Hal thereupon increased his hallooing, with some thought of
what might occur if the pursuivants should come up ere he got
admission.
At length there appeared a moving nebula of light amidst the darkness
over the yard; it approached the gate; steps were heard on the walk
within; finally a little wicket was opened in the gate, and a long,
bearded, sour face was visible in the light of a lanthorn held up by its
owner.
"Who is it disturbeth the night in this manner?" asked a nasal voice, in
a tone of complaint and reproof.
"'Tis I, Master Underhill," spoke Hal, from his horse, "Master Harry
Marryott, Sir Valentine's friend. I must see Sir Valentine without a
moment's delay," and he started to dismount.
"I know not if thou canst see Sir Valentine without delay, or at all
whatsoever," replied the man of dismal countenance. His face had the
crow's feet and the imprinted frown of his fifty years, and there was
some gray on his bare head.
"Not see him!" blurted out Hal. "What the devil--open me the gate this
instant or I'll teach thee a lesson! Dost hear, Anthony?"
"Yield not to thy wrath nor call upon the foul fiend, Master Marryott,"
said Anthony, severely. "I shall go decently and in order, and learn if
thou mayst be admitted." And he leisurely closed the wicket to return to
the house.
Hal could scarce contain himself for anger. Being now afoot he called
after the man, and hammered on the gate, but with no effect of recalling
or hastening him.
"A snivelling Puritan, or I'm a counterfeit soldier!" observed Kit
Bottle, in a tone of contempt and detestation.[24]
"Ay," said Hal, "and all the worse whiner because, out of inherited
ties, he serveth a Catholic master. The old groaner,--that he should put
me to this delay when Sir Valentine's life is at stake!"
This was Hal's first intimation to Kit of the real nature of his
business. The captain received it without comment, merely asking if he
should dismount.
"No," said Hal, tying his own horse to the gate; "but when I am
admitted, ride you back to the village, and listen for the sound of
hoofs from the direction of London; if you hear such, come swiftly back,
hallooing at the top of thy voice, and get off thy horse, and hold him
ready for another to mount in thy stead. A hundred curses on that Tony
Underhill! He hath been Sir Valentine's steward so long, he dareth any
impertinence. And yet he never stayed me at the gate before! And his
grave look when he said he knew not if I might see Sir Valentine! 'Twas
a more solemn face than even he is wont to wear. Holy Mary! can it be
that they are here already,--that they have come before me?"
"An it be men in quest of Sir Valentine, you mean," said Kit, who was of
quick divination, "where be their horses? They would scarce stable them,
and make a visit. Nor would all be so quiet and dark."
"And yet he looked as something were amiss," replied Hal, but partly
reassured.
The faint mist of light appeared again, the deliberate steps were heard,
and this time the gate was unbarred and slowly drawn a little space
open. In the lanthorn's light was seen the spare, tall figure that went
with the long, gloomy face.
"I will conduct thee to Sir Valentine," said Anthony. Hal stepped
forward with an exclamation of relief and pleasure, and Kit Bottle
instantly started his horse back toward the village.
Hal followed the Puritan steward through a porched doorway, across a
hall, up a staircase that ascended athwart the rear, and thence along a
corridor, to the last door on the side toward the back of the house.
Anthony softly opened this door.
Hal entered a chamber lighted by two candles on a table, and containing
in one corner a large high-posted bed. On the table, among other things,
lay an ivory crucifix. A plainly dressed gentleman sat on a chair
between the table and the bed. To this gentleman, without casting a look
at his face, Hal bowed respectfully, and began, "I thank God, Sir
Valentine--"
"Nay, sir," answered the gentleman, quietly, as if to prevent some
mistake; and Hal, looking up, perceived that this was not Sir Valentine,
but a pale, watchful-looking man, with fiery eyes; while a voice,
strangely weakened, came from the bed:
"Thou'rt welcome, Harry."
"What!" cried Hal, striding to the bed. "Sir Valentine, goest thou to
bed so early?"
"Ay," replied Sir Valentine, motionless on his back, "and have been abed
these two days, with promise from my good physician here of getting up
some six days hence or so."
"Thou'lt not move for another week, at least, Sir Valentine," said the
physician, the gentleman whom Hal first addressed.
"'Tis a sword wound got in a quarrel, Harry," explained Sir Valentine,
feebly, and paused, out of breath, looking for a reply.
But Hal stood startled and speechless. Not move for a week, and the
state officer likely to arrive in an hour! "And in every possible manner
aid and hasten his departure from the country," her Majesty had said;
and Hal had taken her money, and by his promise, by her trust in him,
by every consideration that went to the making of a gentleman, a man of
honor, or an honest servant, stood bound to carry out her wish.
The errand was not to be so simple, after all.