THE SIEGE OF PETTY WALES
We had stood awhile fronting each other thus, when "By the Mass!" cried
Mr. Skene, clapping his open palm upon my shoulder, "'tis Mr. Denis
Cleeve or the devil is in it," and so led me forward to the light.
"Are you two acquainted, then?" asked Idonia, her whole countenance of
gravity exchanged for a bewildered expectancy. "Oh, why knew I not of
this sooner? Oh, I am glad," she said, as she advanced to us, her
bosom heaving, and such a light of pleasure in her eyes, as it seemed
to lighten the very room itself, that had formerly showed so darksome
and sinister.
"But tell me," she went on eagerly, and came so close that I could feel
the warmth of her breath on my cheek, "is it a long while you have been
friends?"
Now so struck with amazement was I, no less by the suddenness of this
recognition than by the satire that Idonia's innocent speech implied,
as I could answer nothing; but leaving the handling my sword, I stood
resigned to what should follow.
"I think we be hardly friends yet," said Skene, with a laugh of great
good nature, "and 'twould be a bolder coroner than I, who should
pronounce all enmity dead between us. Am I not in the right, Master
Cleeve?" he ended, on a note of some sharpness.
I looked up at that, first at Idonia to see how she took the matter,
and then at Skene.
"You are right," said I, "seeing you stole my money."
"I knew your answer before you spoke it," replied Skene, nodding; "but
yet I am glad 'tis out, for all that. A hidden grievance is like a
dagger worn without a scabbard, that often hurts him that carries it
more than him he means to use it against. Nay, I am not angry," he
said with a motion of his hand. "Your case seemed to you perfect; I do
not blame you. Nor will you me neither, when you shall hear all that
hath befallen me 'twixt that and this. As for your money, it is safe
enough; and had it passed your mind to inform me of where you lodged
after you left Mr. Malt's in Fetter Lane, why, Mr. Cleeve, you could
have had it any time for the asking." His tone had changed while he
continued to speak, from a certain eagerness to slow reproach.
"But, sir," I began, when he stopped me peremptorily.
"It is ill bickering thus before a girl," he said, and going to the
great press whence Idonia had before fetched forth her ledger-book he
opened it, and without more ado restored to me my parcels of gold. I
could have cried for very shame.
"Count them o'er," he said, with some contempt, but that was the word
that sent my blood back into my head again. For I was assured the man
was a villain and had meant to rob me, though by his cunning he had put
a complexion of honesty upon his dealings, and forced me into the wrong.
"I will do so later," said I, coolly, "but now I would ask of you one
further question. What name shall I call you by?" Meaning, should I
name him my uncle Botolph or no, and so waited for the effect of that,
being sure that by how little soever he should falter upon his reply, I
should detect it. What measure of astonishment was mine, then, when he
turned to Idonia with a smile.
"You shall reply for me," said he, "since you know me pretty well."
"When my father was killed," said Idonia, looking at me with her eyes
all brimmed with tears, "in that affray under John Fox that I have
already related to you, my mother dying soon after of grief, she left
me a babe and quite friendless save for Mr. Skene, whom if you have
anything against, I beseech you put it by for my sake, and because he
had pity on me."
Then going a pace or two nearer to Skene she laid a hand on his arm and
said--
"Sir, Mr. Cleeve has been kind to me, and protected me once from a
man's insolence when you were absent. I had thought you had been
friends before, but it seems you were enemies. We have enough of them,
God wot! and a plenty of suspicions and hatreds to contend with. Then
if it please you, sir, be friends now, you and he, else I know not what
shall be done."
Whatever anger I still held, it died down (for that time) at her
entreaties, and 'twas with no further thought than to have done with
all strife that I offered my hand on the instant to Skene. And
although later I did somewhat censure myself for such precipitancy of
forgiveness in a case that more concerned my father than myself, yet I
silenced my misgivings with the thought that I might take the occasion
Skene had himself offered (when he said that I should learn what had
befallen to prevent his meeting me on the day appointed in Serjeants
Inn), and, if he should then fail to satisfy me, I would take up my
quarrel anew.
The attorney took my hand with an apparent and equal openness.
"I thank you," he said, quietly, "and so enough. Much there may be to
tell of that hath passed; but 'twill not lose by the keeping."
A burst of ringing from All Hallow's Church, close at hand, seemed to
greet our new compact, or truce rather, with a shower of music.
"Why, how merry the world goes!" exclaimed Idonia. "Is it the Queen's
birthday, or some proclaimed holiday? For I remember not the like of
it."
I told her it was for the victory of the _Primrose_ that had returned
with the Governor of Biscay a prisoner.
"And would to God we had more captures in that kind to show," quoth I,
"for they be a curse to the land, these Spaniards and black lurking
Jesuits."
But no sooner were the words spoken, than I remembered the Jesuit
Courcy that had been discovered here in hiding in this house, and so
breaking short off I gazed full at Skene. He met my glance without
winking.
"You speak very truly," he said, slowly, "and I swear by all I hold
most sacred, that had I the ability, I would so deal with that tribe as
the Israelites wrought with them beyond Jordan, and utterly destroy
them." Now, whether in this sentence the man spoke his true mind, or
damnably forswore himself, it remained with the sequel to be made clear.
Idonia gave a little movement the while he was speaking, but whether by
way of assent or of a natural shrinking I could not tell. For myself I
said nought, but regarded Skene steadfastly, who soon added--
"I have business above, Idonia, which cannot be stayed. It is past
dinner time, and if Mr. Cleeve will so honour our poor house, I would
have him remain to dinner. I am engaged abroad, an hour hence, and
will take my meal then." He smiled. "Mr. Denis I leave to your care,
child, and believe you will use him well." He turned on his heel and
went upstairs, leaving us alone together in the hall.
To relate all that ensued I think not necessary to the understanding of
this history, and also I should find it difficult to set down in
writing or by any understood rule of grammar the things that were said,
or elliptically expressed, between us. For Syntax helpeth no man at
such seasons, nor Accidence any maid; 'tis an ineffable intercourse
they use, from which slip away both mood and tense and reason, and the
world too ... all which apparatus and tophamper overboard I found it
surprisingly easy to convey my meaning; to which Idonia replied very
modestly that 'twas her meaning no less, and with that I withdrew my
arm and blessed High Heaven for my fortune.
Idonia was a radiant spirit that day. Her hitherto coldness and the
backwardness with which she had been constrained to receive me I
perceived had been due to no other cause than a fear how her guardian
would regard my visits to the house; for despite his kindness to her
(which she acknowledged) I saw she stood in awe of the man, and hardly
ventured to cross him in the lightest matter.
"Neither doth the company he maintains about him like me overmuch,"
said she. "But now I care less than a little for such things, who
shall soon leave this place for ever; ah! dear heart, but I shall be
glad of such leaving, and no man shall ever have had so faithful and
loving a wife, nor one," she added swiftly, "so apt at the
book-keeping."
I was thinking of her hair, and said so.
"And I was thinking of a long-limbed boy with but three hairs to his
beard," quoth Idonia, "and for wits to his skull, not so much as would
varnish the back of a beetle. Why, how much doth your worship earn by
the week?"
I told her, seven shillings, besides a new suit twice in the year.
"It must be bettered, master," said Idonia, grave at once.
"It shall be better spent," said I.
"But 'tis not enough by the half," quoth she.
"Well, we will eke out the rest by other ways, of which I have a store
in my head, that, being happily vacant of wits, hath the more room to
accommodate them."
Idonia's answer to this, I, having considered the matter, pass over as
foreign to the argument.
'Twas a little after, that starting up, she cried: "Why, bless my dull
appetite, we have not dined! And I with a fat hen upon the spit, fresh
from the Cheape this morning."
"'Tis not enough by the half," said I, mocking her; but she would not
stay longer, saying I must eat, for I had a big body to fill; though
for my head, that was another song and a sad one; and ere I could let
her, she was gone from me into the great kitchen beyond the stair.
I sat awhile where I was, marvellous happy and free from cares; and saw
my love of this maid, like a new Creation arising from the waters, to
make a whole world for me where before was nothing; for all seemed to
me as nothing in comparison with her, so that I forgot my troubles and
losses, my wounds and sickness, my father, my home, my uncle...
"What was that?" said I, sitting up straight, for I had, I think,
fallen into a sort of trance, and imagined some noise had disturbed me.
"Hist!" came a whisper from aloft, and I leapt to my feet.
"Who is it speaks?" cried I, searching every corner of the dark hall
with narrowed eyes.
"Hist!" said the voice again. "There is danger threatening to the folk
of this house."
"What danger is there?" said I, who had now discovered who it was
spoke; for there, lurking in the aperture of the wall to which the
ladder reached up, I saw Andrew Plat, the lyrick poet, his tawny hair
wild about his pale face, and his neck craned forward like a heron's.
Yet for all the comick figure that he made I could not neglect the
apparent seriousness of his warning, and especially when he added in a
hoarse voice--
"Where is Mistress Avenon? O, fair Idonia, hasten hither, if you be
within this fated mansion!"
"She is in the kitchen cooking a fowl," said I, pretty short, for this
adjuration of his mightily displeased me.
"Cooking!--she!" returned the poet, with a despairing gesture. "Her
lily hands! O monstrous indignity, and cruel office of a cook!"
I had thought he would fall headlong down the ladder, so distractedly
did he behave himself, and called upon him sharply to tell me wherein
lay this danger to Idonia he affected to fear.
"I stand alone against a host," said he with a flourish, "but Love
maketh a man sufficient, and will fortify these arms."
"Enough," I shouted, "or I will assuredly call in question the
authorship of a certain rascal poem you wot of."
"It is mine own," he screamed, and danced upon the sill for very rage.
"There is no resemblance betwixt my verses and that preposterous
fellow's--whose name even I know not. I vow there hath been nought,
since Catullus, writ with so infinite and original an invention as my
Hymn to the Spring," and off he went with his "Fresh Spring, the lovely
herald of Great Love," with so great an eagerness of delight in the
poor cuckoo-chick words, as I could not but pity him.
By this time our loud and contrary arguments had been overheard, and
ere he had done Idonia came running forth from the kitchen, her sleeves
above the elbow, and her dress all tucked up; while a little after,
Skene called over the stair-rail to inquire out the cause of this
disturbance.
"'Tis Mr. Plat, the celebrated poet," I replied, "that says there is a
danger threatening this house, though of what nature I cannot learn."
Suddenly recalled by my protest, the poet clapped his hand to his
forehead and cried out:
"O, whither hath my Muse rapt me? Return, my soul, and of this tumult
tell..."
"Out with it, man!" quoth Mr. Skene, in his usual calm manner of
command, that did more than all my attempts to come by the truth.
"They are returning from the Tower," said the poet, "whither they have
carried off the Spaniard. They are coming hither, an incredible
company with staves and all manner of weapons."
"And wherefore?" demanded Skene.
"Because 'tis constantly affirmed that you have here concealed a sort
of plotting Jesuits and base men that would spy out the land, and
enslave us. Nay, they go so far as to say that one such was caught
here not so long ago in the open light of day, for which they swear to
beat the house about your ears and slay you every one.
"Be silent," said the attorney briefly, and we all stood awhile
attentive to any sound of menace from without. We had not long to
wait, for almost on the instant there came a shuffle and rush of many
feet, and that deep unforgettable roll, as of drums, that means the
anger of confused and masterless multitudes.
Skene addressed me: "You alone have a sword, sir. You will cover our
retreat."
I bowed without speaking, and unsheathing my sword, went to the door,
where I clapped to the bolts and made all fast.
"Oh, Denis, Denis!" cried Idonia, who saw it was intended I should
remain behind. "Sir," she pleaded with her guardian, "he must come
with me where'er you lead me."
"He will follow," said he; and then to Plat--
"Do they compass the whole house, or is there a way of escape beyond?"
"There is yet," he answered, having made espial; "for the attack goes
but upon the street side, leaving the lane free. But lose no time, for
they be already scattering--ah! 'tis for fuel to lay to the door,"
cried he, all aghast now and scarce articulate. "Come away after me,"
and so was gone.
Skene said no more, but cast a quiet glance at me, that I knew meant he
trusted me, and for which, more than all I had yet had from him, I
thanked him. But hard work had I to refrain myself, when Idonia
besought me with tears not to leave her and, when presently her
guardian bore her half fainting up the ladder, to appear smiling and
confident.
"I will follow you by and by," said I, and then sat down, suddenly sick
at heart, upon a wooden grate of ship's goods; for the tumult at the
gate was now grown intolerably affrighting.
"You must try another way than this," said Skene, who had now gained
the sill, and I comprehended that he was about to draw up the ladder
after, in order to mask their way of escape when the door should be
forced in or burnt. I nodded, remembering that Idonia had been moved
by the same consideration formerly, when the soldiers came with their
warrant of search; and so the ladder was drawn up and I left.
It is not fit that I should describe all that followed, for no man can
exactly report all, when all is in turmoil and an unchained madness
hurrieth through every mind; madness of defiance and that hideous
madness of fear. For if ever man gazed into the very eyes of the
spectre of fear, it was I then, whom nameless horror possessed, so that
more than once, when the hammering upon the gate shook even the flags
with which the hall was paven, I shrunk back to the farthest corner in
the dark, biting my knuckles till they bled; and even when the door was
half down, and I at the breach making play with my sword to fend off
the foremost that would enter, I felt my heart turn to water at the
sight of that grinning circle of desperate and blood-hungry faces, and
at the roar as of starved forest beasts ravening after their prey.
My defence came to an end suddenly; for although I might have made
shift awhile longer to avert the danger from the gate (but indeed I was
nigh spent with my labours there), I chanced just then to gaze sidelong
at the shuttered window upon the left of it, and saw the shutter all
splintered, and a fellow with a great swart beard, already astraddle on
the ledge. Without a moment's parley I ran my sword half to the hilts
into his side, and as he sank down in a huddle, I left the sword
sticking where it was, and ran for my life.
How I got free of the house I know not, but it was by a window of the
kitchen, I think, or else a hole I burst for myself; but by some
venture of frenzy I gained the street, or rather an enclosed court,
arched under at the further end by a sort of conduit or channel in the
wall; and so, half on my belly shuffling through this filthy bow, I
came by good hap into the open street, that I found was Tower Street,
where at length I thought it safe to take leisure to breathe, and look
about me.
But even here I was deceived of my security; for my passage having
been, I suppose, easily discovered, there wanted not a full minute ere
I heard an halloo! and a scraping of feet beneath the arched way, by
which I perceived I was hotly followed. I stumbled to my feet
straightway and fled westward up the street, while in my ears rang the
alarm: "Stop thief! Jesuit! Hold, in the Queen's Name!" which, the
passengers taking it up, and themselves incontinently joining in the
pursuit, made my hopes of safety and my little remnant of strength to
shrink together utterly, like a scroll of parchment in the fire.
I knew not how far I had gone, nor whither I had come, for all was
strange to my disordered vision, but I know now that I had won nigh to
the standard upon Cornhill (having turned to my right hand up
Gracechurch Street); and holding my pursuers a little in check by
repeated doublings, I found myself free to take refuge within a certain
yard giving upon the public way and close against a tavern that is
called the Leaden Porch. But fearing to remain openly in this place
for any man to apprehend me, I cast about for some means of
concealment, for I could go no further; and there being by good hap a
cart standing under the arch in the entry (the carter having doubtless
betaken himself to the tavern, as is the custom of such men), I got me
up into it, painfully crawling beneath the load it carried, which was,
methought, something oddly protected by a frame of timber hung about
with linen-stuff or such-like, that I skilled not to discover the use
of; and here I lay close, until very soon, as well from mere exhaustion
as from a despairing indifference to the event, I fell asleep.
No thought of the money I had been so near to recovering disturbed my
repose, nor indeed for three full days after did I so much as remember
to have left the treasure bags behind me in the hurry of my flight.