name. Thereupon Stubbs rolled up his sleeves, and showed me, branded
upon his arm, the letters "R. de T.," confessing that he had forgot the
name, which indeed did not come easily to his tongue. I needed no more,
but knew instantly that the luckless galley-slave could be none other
than Raoul de Torcy, who had been my boon fellow when I was in France,
and my companion that time when I had the good hap to win King Henry's
favour. I bade Stubbs describe with circumstance the look and character
of the Frenchman, and though he was unapt at such a task, his uncouth
phrases gave me the assurance I sought, and I could have no manner of
doubt that the man now swinking and sweating in one of the worst
tortures ever devised by the wit of man was indeed my dear friend.
I taxed Stubbs narrowly, to discover by what mishap Raoul, a gentleman
of France, had fallen to so pitiful an extremity, but on this point it
appeared that Raoul himself was at a loss. He had been kidnapped one
day in Calais, cast on board a vessel, and carried to Cadiz: who were
his captors, and what moved them to it, were matters hidden from him.
Cadiz being the place of Raoul's exile, I instantly bethought me of my
talk overnight with Sir Walter Raleigh, and saw in his projected
enterprise a means of wresting my friend from his bondage. Accordingly
I sent my servant for my horse, purposing to ride again to Mile End and
acquaint Sir Walter with what I had heard. I gave money to Stubbs
wherewith to buy new raiment, bidding him return to my house and await
me, and above all to avoid any debate with my servant, the which might
easily end in broken heads.
I found Sir Walter in his garden, smoking a pipe of tobacco, and setting
potatoes, the new root that he had brought from the Indies, in the earth
in the manner they call dibbling. He heard me attentively, and let out
a round oath or two, and said that assuredly I might make the
enlargement of my friend my personal charge in the adventure.
[Illustration: I FOUND SIR WALTER IN HIS GARDEN]
"But you must know, Rudd," he said, "that the project is as yet a
secret, and indeed there is no surety that the Queen will give consent
thereto. Her Grace frowns on me most malevolently, and there are many
hindrances to surmount ere I come by her august approval. Were it not
better to ransom your friend? I doubt not he hath kinsmen that are
ignorant of his plight, and would bestir themselves did they but know
it."
I answered him that Raoul had spoken to me of an uncle, but as to
ransom, Raoul himself must have thought thereon. Without doubt he would
have acquainted the Spaniards with his rank, and their cupidity would
not have refused to bargain for his enlargement, unless, peradventure,
they had weightier reasons for holding him a prisoner. To this Sir
Walter assented, and confessed that he saw nothing for it but to wait
until the Queen's pleasure in the matter of the intended voyage was
known, and with that I had to be content.
I returned to my lodging, sore downcast and perplexed. Stubbs was
already there, new clothed in decent garments, and very personable. I
fell a-talking to him, and in the midst a thought came suddenly to me.
I knew the strange waywardness of the Queen, how she would one moment
consent, the next deny her words with hearty swearing; it might be
months, or even years, before Sir Walter had his way. It troubled me
sorely to think that Raoul should endure his wretched lot while her
Highness played see-saw, and I bethought me that I might at least voyage
to France and see the kinsmen who were, I doubted not, mourning Raoul's
disappearance, and might perchance devise with them some plan for his
deliverance. And since the testimony of an eye-witness is ever more
effectual than report at second-hand, I resolved to take my mariner with
me, so as they might have from his own lips the tale he told me. I
forbore to ask consent of the Queen to my absence, being resolved to
hazard my place rather than my design.
We set off next day, riding to Dover, where we embarked upon a
packet-boat, and so came, after much tossing and discomfort, to Calais.
This being the port where Raoul had been kidnapped three years before,
as Stubbs told me, I made discreet inquiry among the harbour people
whether they knew aught of that villainy, being careful to name no
names. But none had any knowledge of the matter, whereupon we rode on
at once to Dieppe, both because that was the nearest port to Raoul's
chateau, and because our common friend Jean Prevost dwelt there, whom I
purposed to take into my confidence.
'Twas drawing towards evening when we came to the town and reined up at
the door of the _Belle Etoile_, a hostelry that I knew very well. The
host, honest Jacques Aicard, remembered me, though it was near seven
years since he last saw me, and welcomed me very heartily. The
goodman's face was rueful when he ushered me to a room.
"'Tis pity, monsieur," he said, "that I have no better chamber to offer,
but my best room is bespoke. But if monsieur will be content with this
for a night or two, be sure that he shall have the best when my other
visitor departs."
I assured him that the room would do very well, since I did not purpose
to make a long stay.
"Ah, monsieur," he said, "that is sad news. I would that I had more
guests like monsieur," a piece of arrant flattery whereat I smiled.
'Tis true that honest Jacques loved an Englishman.
Having seen Stubbs also provided, I hastened forth, and by good luck
found Jean Prevost at home. He likewise welcomed me with great
heartiness, and, after our salutations, as he set wine before me, he
opened upon the very matter which had brought me to him.
"Would that Raoul were with us!" he said. "How we three laughed! But I
fear me we shall never see him more."
"He disappeared; that I know," said I. "Tell me how it befell."
"Why, three years ago he rode to Calais, with the intent to sail to the
Low Countries, and use his sword against the Spaniards. We have never
heard of him since. Whether he was wrecked, or fell in Flanders, we
know not. He vanished utterly away."
"And what of his estate?" I asked.
"His uncle holds it, the Count de Sarney. You have heard Raoul speak of
him. He was a Leaguer, and there was a coldness between them. Indeed,
though their chateaux lie but five miles apart, they had no dealings one
with the other for many years. But the breach was healed when Henry
became king, and after that Raoul had disappeared none was so busy as
the Count in seeking for him. He sent emissaries at his own charges to
Flanders to inquire diligently in all likely quarters, and 'twas a full
year before he entered upon his heritage. He lives at Torcy, much by
himself, and we see little of him."
"Raoul lugs an oar in a galley at Cadiz," I said with a very quiet
voice.
Jean leapt from his seat as though a wasp had stung him.
"A galley-slave! Impossible! Incredible!" he cried.
"Both credible and possible," I said, and then I told him all, as I have
told you.
"Mon Dieu!" cried Jean, when I had made an end. "We must not wait while
your Queen dallies. A ransom! I know a score of his friends who will
give bonds for goodly sums----"
"Ay, truly," I said, interrupting him, "and the first of them should be
his uncle and heir."
Jean stopped in his restless pacing of the floor, and looked at me very
strangely.
"Why yes," he said, "his uncle, to be sure. But the Count is
close-fisted; 'twas indeed a surprise to all the country-side when,
after that he had entered into possession of Torcy--an estate of greater
worth than his own--he showed himself a very niggard."
"Think you that he would refuse his mite in so good a cause?" I said.
Again Jean looked strangely at me, and for a while was silent. Then he
said slowly--
"My friend, I ween we had best say nought to the Count de Sarney."
"Nevertheless, I go to him to-morrow," I replied. "Miser he may be, and
'tis clean against his interest, to be sure, to bring back the lawful
owner of Torcy, and thereby dispossess himself. Yet if his duty be put
to him, as I shall put it, I doubt not he will comply."
"I will go with you," said Jean.
"Nay, I am minded to go alone, or rather with none but my mariner.
'Twill be better so. Be assured I will acquaint you with the issue. And
I beg you, Jean," I said earnestly, "that you speak no word of what I
have told you, at least for this present time."
"I will be mute as a fish," said he, "but I shall think the more."
*II*
On the morrow, early in the morning, we saddled our horses, Stubbs and
I, a thing we always performed ourselves, Stubbs somewhat fumblingly, I
own, until practice gave him deftness and ease. 'Twas thirty miles to
Torcy, that lay southerly from Dieppe, but we made such good speed that
the sun was not yet in the zenith when we arrived at the chateau. The
Count was within doors, said the lackey that opened the great gate of
the park to us, and we rode up the avenue of chestnuts, just bourgeoning
into leaf, and came after some three furlongs to the house.
The man that admitted me, an ancient retainer of Raoul's whom I knew
very well, changed hue when he saw me, and asked me with trembling voice
whether I had brought news of his master. I did not give him a direct
answer, but bade him lead me at once to the Count, feeling not a little
pleasure that the new lord still kept the old man in his service. He
conducted me through the passages that I had last trod with Raoul
himself, and brought me into the little chamber wherein I had passed
many a merry evening with my friend. Stubbs meanwhile remained in the
outer porch, ready to follow me at my summons.
I waited some while before the Count entered. He was a man of mean
stature, very lean and dry, and with a grave cast of countenance wherein
I discerned no likeness to the jolly favour of his nephew.
"I have not the honour," he began courteously as I bowed to him, and
dealt me a shrewd look.
"Assuredly not, monsieur," I replied. "My name is Christopher Rudd, and
I was once comrade to your nephew, whose fate has given such deep
trouble to his friends."
"Ah yes, my poor nephew! Methinks I recall your name, monsieur, if you
are the same that fought with Raoul in the late contention, now so
happily concluded. Be seated, monsieur; I am charmed to meet one that
was his friend. You will honour me by taking a cup of wine?"
He rang for a servant, and bade him bring wine and cakes, and also to
request the company of Monsieur Armand. Before the man returned there
entered into the room a solemn-visaged youth, clad in black with white
ruffles at his wrists.
"My son, monsieur," said the Count. "He is but lately returned from
Paris, where he has studied medicine and philosophy, not that I purpose
that he should be either a physician or a philosopher, but because I
deem it well that he, being my heir, but ill-fitted by reason of a
delicate constitution for the pursuit of arms, should have some tincture
of humane letters and of the beneficent art of healing. Situated as we
are, somewhat remote from towns, it is fitting that one who will in due
time be lord of many poor folks should be able to minister to them in
their afflictions."
"A right worthy and commendable desire," I said, looking at the youth,
whose solemnity of countenance somewhat tickled me.
The Count proceeded to expound the usefulness of philosophy, not
interrupting his discourse when the servant returned with wine and
delicacies which, being sharp-set after my ride, I devoured with relish.
My host was so courteously bent on entertaining me that for a good while
I found no opportunity of broaching the purpose of my visit, and more
than once I thought of Stubbs waiting without, and certainly as hungry
as myself. But perceiving at length in the Count's physiognomy a look
that said clearly, despite his courtesy, that he thought it time my
visit came to an end, I profited by a slight lull in his discourse to
say--
"And my friend Raoul, monsieur--has nothing been heard of him?"
"Nothing, monsieur," he said with a sigh. "I fear we cannot hope to see
him again, and the pain of his loss is embittered by our ignorance of
his fate, whether he lies at the bottom of the sea, or perchance in some
nameless grave."
"I rejoice, then," said I, "that I can assuage that bitterness, even
though the knowledge has a bitterness of its own. Your nephew,
monsieur, is at this moment, unless death has released him, suffering
the tortures of a galley-slave in Spain."
A cry from the solemn youth caused me to look at him, and I own I was
glad to see a spark of life in his dead face.
"What a monstrous thing!" he cried. "Was he taken prisoner in Flanders,
monsieur?"
"Nay," I said, "he never fought in Flanders. He travelled no further
than Calais. He was there kidnapped at the harbour, and thence conveyed
to Cadiz. 'Twas the work of private enemies, beyond doubt."
"Will you tell us how you came by this amazing news, monsieur?" said the
Count, in his thin cold voice.
Whereupon I related the whole story with circumstance, from the time
when I was beset that night as I returned to my lodging. The Count
listened to me with a courteous interest, but a look of compassion stole
upon his face.
"It is incredible, monsieur," he said, when I ended my tale. "My poor
nephew had no private enemies: none can know better than you how well
beloved he was of all. Even in the height of our broils here he had no
personal foes, and though he and I were for a time at variance, yet when
the realm settled itself in peace and order we forgot our public
differences, and Raoul and Armand became deeply attached the one to the
other; is it not so, Armand?"
"It is indeed," said the youth eagerly. "Raoul and I were as brothers,
and his loss has been my greatest sorrow."
I could not doubt he spoke truth: his eyes shone as he spoke. Nor could
I wonder that his father was incredulous, for Raoul was indeed a man
whom it were strange to hate.
"I have a man without who rowed in the self-same galley with Raoul," I
said. "With your leave I will send for him, monsieur, and you may
verify my story from his own lips."
The Count assented with the same smile of weary tolerance. Within a
little Stubbs came to us, looking ill at ease, and twisting his bonnet
between his hands as he stood waiting our pleasure. At my bidding he
related the story as I have told it, and rolled back his sleeve to show
the letters "R. de T." there branded. His French was uncouth and
villainously inexact, yet not so base but that his meaning was clear.
The Count questioned him searchingly, almost as an advocate seeks to
shake the testimony of a witness; but the man held to his tale in its
main parts, answering only "J'ne savons pas"--such was his barbarous
form--when the matter in question was beyond his ken.
Having dismissed the man, I asked the Count whether he were not now
perfectly convinced of his nephew's fate. He looked upon me with that
same smile of pity, and gave me an answer that, I confess, enraged me.
"I felicitate you, monsieur," said he, "on your goodness of heart, but
until this moment I was not aware that credulity could be laid to the
charge of a man of your nation. I had rather looked upon Englishmen as
sceptical, and not easily imposed upon. This man is certainly a liar:
you yourself were witness of his confusion. He has played upon your
benevolence, and, for myself, I regard it as monstrous that you should
have been prevailed upon to make so long a journey for so bootless a
reason. Nevertheless it has given me great pleasure to meet and converse
with you; and now that you are here, I would beg you to do me the honour
to remain my guest for a week at least."
"I thank you, monsieur," I said as civilly as I could, though in truth I
was inly raging. "But so far from regarding the seaman as a liar, I do
thoroughly believe his story."
"And I too," quoth Armand.
"But, my good friend," said the Count, "see the unlikelihood of it.
Suppose that Raoul were indeed in the galleys, it were a simple matter
for a man of his rank and condition to purchase his release, and be sure
that by this time, and long before this, application would have been
made to me for his ransom, the which I need not say would have been
instantly dispatched. Is not that reasonable?"
I could not but own that it was, remembering that I had myself used the
self-same argument with Sir Walter Raleigh.
"Furthermore," the Count proceeded, "say that I offered a large sum for
his ransom, the Spaniards, if they have any reason for holding Raoul a
prisoner, would certainly find some one to personate him, and release
some knave that fully merits the punishment he suffers. And so you and
I should look merely ridiculous."
There was so much reason in what the Count said that I was baffled. His
unbelief, I thought, might be in some measure sprung from a reluctancy
to relinquish the estate he now enjoyed, the which was not to be
wondered at: and yet I deemed it unnatural that a kinsman should be more
incredulous than a man bound to Raoul by no ties of blood. At a loss
how to combat his arguments, I presently took my leave, excusing myself
from accepting the invitation he pressed upon me.
I found that Stubbs had been fed by the ancient servitor, and set off
with him towards Dieppe. Our horses proved themselves but indifferent
steeds in respect of endurance, and we were slow upon the road, so that
it was already dark when we reached our hostelry. Being wearied with
the journey, as well as exceeding vexed in mind, I was in no mood for
aught but a good supper and then bed, and I deferred to acquaint Jean
Prevost with my barren errand until the morrow. Stubbs gave me a hard
look when I bade him good-night, as though he would fain question me on
the present posture of the affair; but I told him nothing, being
resolved first to hear what Jean had to say.
I was mighty astonished next afternoon by Jean's manner of receiving my
intelligence. Whereas he had been as sure as I myself that Raoul and the
galley-slave were one and the same, he now wore a dubious look, and
stroked his chin, and declared there was much reason in what the Count
had said.
"Raoul is not the only name beginning with R," he said, "nor Torcy with
T. Moreover this mariner of yours, you tell me, sought to enter into
your good graces by cracking your skull, and is not thereby certified to
be an honest man. The manifest friendliness of the Count's son, and the
Count's own diligence in seeking his nephew, give no prop to the
suspicion I own I entertained, that they were privy to the crime, for
the sake of gaining Raoul's inheritance. I am fain to believe that
there is dupery, or at least error."
I answered him somewhat hotly that I was no dupe, nor did I believe that
Stubbs had erred, and asked whether we could not set on foot a proper
inquiry. To this he replied that, France and Spain being at war, such a
course must be beset with manifold difficulties.
"Yet," he said, "there is one way. Address yourself to some merchant in
Antwerp that hath trading concerns in Cadiz. Such an one, if heedful
and discreet, could put your mariner's story to the test, and I doubt
not, knowing their love of lucre, there be many good men in Antwerp that
would take this task upon them, for a fit recompense."
This counsel seeming good to me, I left him after a little, and instead
of returning directly to my lodging, I wended to the harbour, and
inquired what vessel sailed thence to Antwerp, and when. 'Twas told me
that a trading vessel would leave the port on the morrow, whereupon I
counted myself lucky, for none other would depart for a fortnight. I
took passage in the vessel for myself and Stubbs, paying good English
money, and bespeaking a sufficient quantity of food, more relishable
than that which mariners are in general wont to eat.
By the time I came again to the _Belle Etoile_ the sun was setting. I
entered in, very well content with what I had done, and ran full against
Stubbs, who was lurking within the doorway. He took me by the sleeve
and drew me hastily to my room, where, having shut the door, he thrust
into my hands some papers, and I perceived that the seals thereof had
been broken.
[Illustration: HE THRUST INTO MY HAND SOME PAPERS]
"What is this?" I said in amazement, beholding signs of great trouble in
the man's countenance.
"Read, sir, read, and quickly, for the love of God!" he said, and
incontinently flung out of the room.
I took up one of the papers to examine it, and saw that it bore the
superscription, "To Don Ygnacio de Acosta, at Cadiz." The others were
addressed to grandees in Seville and elsewhere in the south of Spain. I
was still holding them unopened, perplexed about my man's strange
excitement, when he came back with the same haste into the room and
asked me in a fever whether I had read them.
"Why, no," I said, "I may not read letters that are not addressed to me.
What is all this to-do?"
He groaned, and cursed his fate because he was himself unable to read.
And then, pouring out his words in a very torrent, he told me that, a
little after my departure, there had come to the inn the young man whom
he had seen in the chateau Torcy, namely, Armand de Sarney, the Count's
son. Old Jacques conducted the youth to his bedchamber: 'twas plain
that he was the expected guest for whom the best room had been bespoke.
Stubbs perceived that he bore with him a wallet such as are commonly
used by gentlemen for holding letters. Having seen his baggage bestowed
in the chamber, the youth descended, but without the wallet, and issued
forth into the street. Stubbs watched him until he was out of sight,
then stole a tip-toe to the room, slit open the wallet, and withdrew its
contents, the papers that he had laid in my hands.
"But why?" I asked, staggered by this act of criminal presumption, and
thinking the man must be demented.
"Because thiccy count be a rare villain, sir," cried Stubbs hoarsely.
"I bean't a fule; I kept my eyes upon him when you sat there a-crackin'
with him, and if he don't know more'n he ought about thiccy young
Frenchman, your friend, I'll go to the gallows happy. Read the names,
sir, read 'un so that I can hear; quick, for he may be back along."
In a great wonderment I complied.
"Don Antonio de Herrera, Don Miguel de Leon y Buegas; Don Ygnacio de
Acosta----"
"There! There!" he cried. "I knew it, be jowned! 'Tis the captain of
the galleys, the Don Spaniard that has laid many a stripe on my bare
back. Read the letter."
Again he left me in a great hurry, and I guessed now that he was gone to
keep a watch against the return of Armand de Sarney.
I was in a quandary. Imprimis, 'twas a dastardly deed to break open the
wallet and the seals, and not consonant with plain honesty. Yet I could
but acknowledge that a letter writ by the Count de Sarney to the captain
of the galleys was a grave cause of suspicion, more especially seeing
that the Count had not told me he was acquainted with the Spaniard, as
assuredly an innocent man would have done. And so, reflecting that the
seal was broken beyond mending, and that my friend's welfare--nay,
perchance, his very life--was at stake, I felt it behoved me to satisfy
myself on the matter, and do as my Lord Burghley and Sir Francis
Walsingham had done when they discovered those devilish plots against
the Queen's highness.
Accordingly I spread open the letter addressed to Don Ygnacio de Acosta,
and as I read it all compunction died within me, and I fumed with rage.
After the customary salutations, this is what I read--
"The bearer of this letter is my only son, Armand de Sarney, whom I
commit to your benevolence. Having gained some repute in Paris by his
diligence in the study of philosophy and the sciences, above all in
medicine, he is desirous of perfecting himself in this last, the which I
hold to be both a science and an art, by inquiring into the Moorish
system, for which purpose I deem it well, though I am loth to part with
him, that he should voyage to Seville, the fame of whose schools has
gone out into all the corners of the world. He bears with him letters
from good friends in Paris to your most renowned doctors, and to your
loving care do I especially commend him.
"I profit by his journey to send you a bill of exchange, drawn on our
good friends at Antwerp, and beg that you will pardon my backwardness in
that I have withheld it beyond the wonted time.
"The sickness whereof you wrote is now, I trust, wholly passed away, and
with all felicitations I subscribe myself your loving cousin,
"HENRI DE SARNEY.