The Story of Francis Cludde

  CHAPTER XV.

  BEFORE THE COURT.

  I had not seen the first moonbeams pierce the broken casement of thetower-room, but I was there to watch the last tiny patch of silverglide aslant from wall to sill, and sill to frame, and so pass out.Near the fire, which had been made up, and now glowed and crackledbravely on the hearthstone at my elbow, my three jailers had set amattress for me; and on this I sat, my back to the wall and my face tothe window. The guards lounged on the other side of the hearth round alantern, playing at dice and drinking. They were rough, hard men,whose features, as they leaned over the table and the light playedstrongly on their faces, blazoning them against a wall of shadow, werestern and rugged enough. But they had not shown themselves unkindly.They had given me a share of their wine, and had pointed to the windowand shrugged their shoulders, as much as to say that it was my ownfault if I suffered from the draught. Nay, from time to time, one ofthem would turn from his game and look at me--in pity, I think--andutter a curse that was meant for encouragement.

  Even when the first excitement had passed away, I felt none of thestupefaction which I have heard that men feel in such a position. Mybrain was painfully active. In vain I longed to sleep, if it were onlythat I might not be thought to fear death. But the fact that I was tobe tried first, though the sentence was a certainty, distracted andtroubled me. My thoughts paced from thing to thing; now dwelling onthe Duchess and her husband, now flitting to Petronilla and SirAnthony, to the old place at home and the servants; to strange pettythings, long familiar--a tree in the chase at Coton, an herb I hadplanted. Once a great lump rose in my throat, and I had to turn awayto hide the hot tears that would rise at the thought that I must diein this mean German town, in this unknown corner, and be buried andforgotten! And once, too, to torment me, there rose a doubt in my mindwhether Master Bertie would recover; whether, indeed, I had not thrownmy life away for nothing. But it was too late to think of that! Andthe doubt, which the Evil One himself must have suggested, so terriblewas it passed away quickly.

  My thoughts raced, but the night crawled. We had surrendered aboutten, and the magistrates, less pitiful than the jailers, had forbiddenmy friends to stay with me. An hour or more after midnight, two of themen lay down and the other sat humming a drinking-song, or atintervals rose to yawn and stretch himself and look out of the window.From time to time, the cry of the watchman going his rounds camedrearily to my ears, recalling to me the night I had spent behind theboarding in Moorgate Street, when the adventure which was to endto-morrow--nay, to-day--in a few hours--had lured me away. To-day? WasI to die to-day? To perish with all my plans, hopes, love? It seemedimpossible. As I gazed at the window, whose shape began to be printedon my brain, it seemed impossible. My soul so rose in rebellionagainst it, that the perspiration stood on my brow, and I had to claspmy hands about my knees, and strain every muscle to keep in the cry Iwould have uttered! a cry, not of fear, but of rage and remonstranceand revolt.

  I was glad to see the first streaks of dawn, to hear the firstcock-crowings, and, a few minutes later, the voices of men in thestreet and on the stairs. The sounds of day and life acted magicallyupon me. The horror of the night passed off as does the horror of adream. When a man, heavily cloaked and with his head covered, came in,the door being shut behind him by another hand, I looked up at himbravely. The worst was past.

  He replied by looking down at me for a few moments without disclosinghimself, the collar of his cloak being raised so high that I could seenothing of his features. My first notion that he must be MasterLindstrom passed away; and, displeased by his silent scrutiny, andthinking him a stranger, I said sharply, "I hope you are satisfied,sir."

  "Satisfied?" he replied, in a voice which made me start so that theirons clanked on my feet, "Well, I think I should be--seeing you so,my friend!"

  It was Clarence! Of all men, Clarence! I knew his voice, and he,seeing himself recognized, lowered his cloak. I stared at him instupefied silence, and he at me in a grim curiosity. I was notprepared for the blunt abruptness with which he continued--usingalmost the very words he had used when face to face with me in theflood: "Now tell me who you are, and what brought you into thiscompany?"

  I gave him no answer. I still stared at him in silence.

  "Come!" he continued, his hawk's eyes bent on my face, "make a cleanbreast of it, and perhaps--who knows? I may help you yet, lad. Youhave puzzled and foiled me, and I want to understand you. Where did mylady pick you up just when she wanted you? I had arranged for everychecker on the board except you. Who are you?"

  This time I did answer him--by a question. "How many times have wemet?" I asked.

  "Three," he said readily, "and the last time you nearly rid the worldof me. Now the luck is against you. It generally is in the end againstthose who thwart me, my friend." He chuckled at the conceit, and Iread in his face at once his love of intrigue and his vanity. "I comeuppermost, as always."

  I only nodded.

  "What do you want?" I asked. I felt a certain expectation. He wantedsomething.

  "First, to know who you are."

  "I shall not tell you!" I answered.

  He smiled dryly, sitting opposite to me. He had drawn up a stool, andmade himself comfortable. He was not an uncomely man as he sat thereplaying with his dagger, a dubious smile on his lean, dark face.Unwarned, I might have been attracted by the masterful audacity, theintellect as well as the force which I saw stamped on his features.Being warned, I read cunning in his bold eyes, and cruelty in the curlof his lip. "What do you want next?" I asked.

  "I want to save your life," he replied lightly.

  At that I started--I could not help it.

  "Ha! ha!" he laughed, "I thought the stoicism did not go quite down tothe bottom, my lad. But there, it is true enough, I have come to helpyou. I have come to save your life if you will let me."

  I strove in vain to keep entire mastery over myself. The feelings towhich he appealed were too strong for me. My voice sounded strange,even in my own ears, as I said hoarsely, "It is impossible! What canyou do?"

  "What can I do?" he answered with a stern smile. "Much! I have, boy, adozen strings in my hands, and a neck--a life at the end of each!"

  He raised his hand, and extending the fingers, moved them to and fro.

  "See! see! A life, a death!" he exclaimed. "And for you, I can andwill save your life--on one condition."

  "On one condition?" I murmured.

  "Ay, on one condition; but it is a very easy one. I will save yourlife on my part; and you, on yours, must give me a little assistance.Do you see? Then we shall be quits."

  "I do not understand," I said dully. I did not. His words had set myheart fluttering so that I could for the moment take in only oneidea--that here was a new hope of life.

  "It is very simple," he resumed, speaking slowly. "Certain plans ofmine require that I should get your friend the Duchess conveyed backto England. But for you I should have succeeded before this. In whatyou have hindered me, you can now help me. You have their confidenceand great influence with them. All I ask is that you will use thatinfluence so that they may be at a certain place at a certain hour. Iwill contrive the rest. It shall never be known, I promise you, thatyou----"

  "Betrayed them!"

  "Well, gave me some information," he said lightly, puffing away myphrase.

  "No. Betrayed them!" I persisted.

  "Put it so, if you please," he replied, shrugging his shoulders andraising his eyebrows. "What is in a word?"

  "You are the tempter himself, I think!" I cried in bitter rage--for it_was_ bitter--bitter, indeed, to feel that new-born hope die out. "Butyou come to me in vain. I defy you!"

  "Softly! softly!" he answered with calmness.

  Yet I saw a little pulse beating in his cheek that seemed to tell ofsome emotion kept in subjection.

  "It frightens you at first," he said. "But listen. You will do them noharm, and yourself good. I shall get them anyway
, both the Duchess andher husband; though, without your aid, it will be more difficult. Why,help of that kind is given every day. They need never know it. Evennow there is one of whom you little dream who has----"

  "Silence!" I cried fiercely. "I care not. I defy you!"

  I could think of only one thing. I was wild with rage anddisappointment. His words had aggravated the pain of every regret,every clinging to life I felt.

  "Go!" I cried. "Go and leave me, you villain!"

  "If I do leave you," he said, fixing his eyes on me, "it will be, myfriend--to death."

  "Then so be it!" I answered wildly. "So be it! I will keep my honor."

  "Your honor!" The mask dropped from his face, and he sneered as herose from his seat. A darker scowl changed and disfigured his brow,as he lost hope of gaining me. "Your honor? Where will it be byto-night?" he hissed, his eyes glowering down at me. "Where a weekhence, when you will be cast into a pit and forgotten? Your honor,fool? What is the honor of a dead man? Pah! But die, then, if you willhave it so! Die, like the brainless brute you are! And rot, and beforgotten!" he concluded passionately.

  They were terrible words; more terrible I know now than either he or Iunderstood then. They so shook me that when he was gone I crouchedtrembling on my pallet, hiding my face in a fit of horror--taking noheed of my jailers or of appearances. "Die and be forgotten! Die andbe forgotten!" The doom rang in my ears.

  Something which seemed to me angelic roused me from this misery. Itwas the sound of a kindly, familiar voice speaking English. I lookedup and found the Dutchman bending over me with a face of infinitedistress. With him, but rather behind him, stood Van Tree, pale andvicious-eyed, tugging his scanty chin-beard and gazing about him likea dog seeking some one to fasten upon. "Poor lad! poor lad!" the oldman said, his voice shaking as he looked at me.

  I sprang to my feet, the irons rattling as I dashed my hand across myeyes.

  "It is all right!" I said hurriedly. "I had a--but never mind that. Itwas like a dream. Only tell the Duchess to look to herself," Icontinued, still rather vehemently. "Clarence is here. He is inSanton. I have seen him."

  "You have seen him?" both the Dutchmen cried at once.

  "Ay!" I said, with a laugh that was three parts hysterical--indeed, Iwas still tingling all over with excitement. "He has been here tooffer me my life if I would help him in his schemes. I told him he wasthe tempter, and defied him. And he--he said I should die and beforgotten!" I added, trembling, yet laughing wildly at the same time.

  "I think he _is_ the tempter!" said Master Lindstrom solemnly, hisface very grim. "And therefore a liar and the father of lies! You maydie, lad, to-day; perhaps you must. But forgotten you shall not be,while we live, or one of us lives, or one of the children who shallcome after us. He is a liar!"

  I got my hands, with a struggle, from the old man, and turning my backupon him, went and looked out of the window. The sun was rising. Thetower of the great minster, seen row for the first time, rose instately brightness above the red roofs and quaint gables and therows of dormer windows. Down in the streets the grayness and chillyet lingered. But above was a very glory of light and warmth andcolor--the rising of the May sun. When I turned round I was myselfagain. The calm beauty of that sight had stolen into my soul. "Is ittime?" I said cheerfully. For the crowd was gathering below, and therewere voices and feet on the stairs.

  "I think it is," Master Lindstrom answered. "We have obtained leave togo with you. You need fear no violence in the streets, for the man whowas hurt is still alive and may recover. I have been with themagistrates this morning," he continued, "and found them betterdisposed to you; but the Sub-dean has joint jurisdiction with them, asthe deputy of the Bishop of Arras, who is dean of the minster; and heis, for some reason, very bitter against you."

  "The Bishop of Arras? Granville, do you mean?" I asked. I knew thename of the Emperor's shrewd and powerful minister, by whose advicethe Netherlands were at this time ruled.

  "The same. He, of course, is not here, but his deputy is. Were it notfor him---- But there, it is no good talking of that!" the Dutchmansaid, breaking off and rubbing his head in his chagrin.

  One of the guards who had spent the night with me brought me at thismoment a bowl of broth with a piece of bread in it. I could not eatthe bread, but I drank the broth and felt the better for it. Having inmy pocket a little money with which the Duchess had furnished me, Iput a silver piece in the bowl and handed it back to him. The manseemed astonished, and muttered something in German as he turned away.

  "What did he say?" I asked the Dutchman.

  "Oh, nothing, nothing," he answered.

  "But what was it? It was something," I persisted, seeing him confused.

  "He--well, he said he would have a mass said for you!" Lindstromanswered in despair. "It will do no harm."

  "No, why should it?" I replied mechanically.

  We were in the street by this time, Master Lindstrom and Van Treewalking beside me in the middle of a score of soldiers, who seemed tomy eyes fantastically dressed. I remarked, as we passed out, a tallman clothed in red and black, who was standing by the door as ifwaiting to fall in behind me. He carried on his shoulder a longbroad-bladed sword, and I guessed who he was, seeing how MasterLindstrom strove to intercept my view of him. But I was not afraid of_that_. I had heard long ago--perhaps six months in time, but itseemed long ago--how bravely Queen Jane had died. And if a girl hadnot trembled, surely a man should not. So I looked steadfastly at him,and took great courage, and after that was able to gaze calmly on thepeople, who pressed to stare at me, peeping over the soldiers'shoulders, and clustering in every doorway and window to see me gopast. They were all silent, and it even seemed to me that some--butthis may have been my fancy--pitied me.

  I saw nothing of the Duchess, and might have wondered, had not MasterLindstrom explained that he had contrived to keep her in ignorance ofthe hour fixed for the proceedings. Her husband was better, he said,and conscious; but, for fear of exciting him, they were keeping thenews from him also. I remember I felt for a moment very sore at this,and then I tried to persuade myself that it was right.

  The distance through the streets was short, and almost before I wasaware of it I was in the court-house, the guard had fallen back, and Iwas standing before three persons who were seated behind a long table.Two of them were grave, portly men wearing flat black caps and scarletrobes, with gold chains about their necks. The third, dressed as anecclesiastic, wore a huge gem ring upon his thumb. Behind them stoodthree attendants holding a sword, a crosier, and a ducal cap upon acushion; and above and behind all was a lofty stained window, whoserich hues, the sun being low as yet, shot athwart the corbels of theroof. At the end of the table sat a black-robed man with an ink-hornand spectacles, a grave, still, down-looking man; and the crowd beingbehind me, and preserving a dead silence, and the attendants standinglike statues, I seemed indeed to be alone with these four at thetable, and the great stained window and the solemn hush. They talkedto one another in low tones for a minute, gazing at me the while. AndI fancied they were astonished to find me so young.

  At length they all fell back into their chairs. "Do you speak German?"the eldest burgher said, addressing me gravely. He sat in the middle,with the Sub-dean on his right.

  "No; but I speak and understand Spanish," I answered in that language,feeling chilled already by the stern formality which like an iron handwas laying its grip upon me.

  "Good! Your name?" replied the president.

  "I am commonly called Francis Carey, and I am an Englishman." TheSub-dean--he was a pale, stout man, with gloomy eyes--had hithertobeen looking at me in evident doubt. But at this he nodded assent,and, averting his eyes from me, gazed meditatively at the roof of thehall, considering apparently what he should have for breakfast.

  "You are charged," said the president slowly, consulting a document,"with having assaulted and wounded in the highway last night oneHeinrich Schroeder, a citizen of this town, acting at the time asLieutenant of the Night
Guard. Do you admit this, prisoner, or do yourequire proof?"

  "He was wounded," I answered steadily, "but by mistake, and in error.I supposed him to be one of three persons who had unlawfully waylaidme and my party on the previous night between Emmerich and Wesel."

  The Sub-dean, still gazing at the roof, shook his head with a faintsmile. The other magistrates looked doubtfully at me, but made nocomment, and my words seemed to be wasted on the silence. Thepresident consulted his document again, and continued: "You are alsocharged with having by force of arms, in time of peace, seized a gateof this town, and maintained it, and declined to surrender it whencalled upon so to do. What do you say to that?"

  "It is true in part," I answered firmly. "I seized not the gate, butpart of the tower, in order to preserve my life and to protect certainladies traveling with me from the violence of a crowd which, under amisapprehension, was threatening to do us a mischief."

  The priest again shook his head, and smiled faintly at the carvedroof. His colleagues were perhaps somewhat moved in my favor, for afew words passed between them. However, in the end they shook theirheads, and the president mechanically asked me if I had anythingfurther to say.

  "Nothing!" I replied bitterly. The ecclesiastic's cynicalheedlessness, his air of one whose mind is made up, seemed so cruel tome whose life was at stake, that I lost patience. "Except what I havesaid," I continued--"that for the wounding, it was done in error; andfor the gate-seizing, I would do it again to save the lives of thosewith me. Only that and this: that I am a foreigner ignorant of yourlanguage and customs, desiring only to pass peacefully through yourcountry."

  "That is all?" the president asked impassively.

  "All," I answered, yet with a strange tightening at my throat. Was itall? All I could say for my life?

  I was waiting, sore and angry and desperate, to hear the sentence,when there came an interruption. Master Lindstrom, whose presence atmy side I had forgotten, broke suddenly into a torrent of impassionedwords, and his urgent voice, ringing through the court, seemed in amoment to change its aspect--to infuse into it some degree of life andsympathy. More than one guttural exclamation, which seemed to markapproval, burst from the throng at the back of the hall. In anothermoment, indeed, the Dutchman's courage might have saved me. But therewas one who marked the danger. The Sub-dean, who had at first onlyglowered at the speaker in rude astonishment, now cut him short with aharsh question.

  "One moment, Master Dutchman!" he cried. "Are you one of the hereticswho call themselves Protestants?"

  "I am. But I understand that there is here liberty of conscience," ourfriend answered manfully, nothing daunted in his fervor at finding theattack turned upon himself.

  "That depends upon the conscience," the priest answered with a scowl."We will have no Anabaptists here, nor foreign praters to bring usinto feud with our neighbors. It is enough that such men as you areallowed to live. We will not be bearded by you, so take warning! Takeheed, I say, Master Dutchman, and be silent!" he repeated, leaningforward and clapping his hand upon the table.

  I touched Master Lindstrom's sleeve--who would of himself havepersisted--and stayed him. "It is of no use," I muttered. "That dog ina crochet has condemned me. He will have his way!"

  There was a short debate between the three judges, while in the courtyou might have heard a pin drop. Master Lindstrom had fallen back oncemore. I was alone again, and the stained window seemed to be puttingforth its mystic influence to enfold me, when, looking up, I saw atiny shadow flit across the soft many-hued rays which streamed from itathwart the roof. It passed again, once, twice, thrice. I peeredupward intently. It was a swallow flying to and fro amid the carvedwork.

  Yes, a swallow. And straightway I forgot the judges; forgot the crowd.The scene vanished and I was at Coton End again, giving Martin Lutherthe nest for Petronilla--a sign, as I meant it then, that I shouldreturn. I should never return now. Yet my heart was on a sudden sosoftened that, instead of this reflection giving me pain, as one wouldhave expected, it only filled me with a great anxiety to provide forthe event. She must not wait and watch for me day after day, perhapsyear after year. I must see to it somehow; and I was thinking withsuch intentness of this, that it was only vaguely I heard the sentencepronounced. It might have been some other person who was to bebeheaded at the east gate an hour before noon. And so God save theDuke!