Come Rack! Come Rope!

  CHAPTER III

  I

  It was in the evening of the fourth day after their start that, ridingup alongside of the Blythe, they struck out to the northwest, away fromthe trees, and saw the woods of Chartley not half a mile away. Robinsighed with relief, though, as a fact, his adventure was scarcely morethan begun, since he had yet to learn how he could get speech with theQueen; but, at least, he was within sight of her, and of his own countryas well. Far away, eastwards, beyond the hills, not twenty miles off,lay Derby.

  * * * * *

  It had been a melancholy ride, in spite of the air of freedom throughwhich they rode, since news had come to them, in more than one place, ofthe fortunes of the Babington party. A courier, riding fast, had passedthem as they sighted Buckingham; and by the time they came in, he wasgone again, on Government business (it was said), and the little townhummed with rumours, out of which emerged, at any rate, the certaintythat the whole company had been captured. At Coventry, again, thetidings had travelled faster than themselves; for here it was reportedthat Mr. Babington and Mr. Charnoc had been racked; and in Lichfield,last of all, the tale was complete, and (as they learned later)tolerably accurate too.

  It was from a clerk in the inn there that the story came, who declaredthat there was no secrecy about the matter any longer, and that hehimself had seen the tale in writing. It ran as follows:

  The entire plot had been known from the beginning, Gilbert Gifford hadbeen an emissary of Walsingham's throughout; and every letter thatpassed to and from the various personages had passed through theSecretary's hands and been deciphered in his house. There never had beenone instant in which Mr. Walsingham had been at fault, or in the dark:he had gone so far, it was reported, as to insert in one of the lettersthat was to go to Mr. Babington a request for the names of all theconspirators, and in return there had come from him, not only a list ofthe names, but a pictured group of them, with Mr. Babington himself inthe midst. This picture had actually been shown to her Grace in orderthat she might guard herself against private assassination, since two orthree of the group were in her own household.

  "It is like to go hard with the Scots Queen!" said the clerk bitterly."She has gone too far this time."

  Robin said nothing to commit himself, for he did not know on which sidethe man ranged himself; but he drew him aside after dinner, and askedwhether it might be possible to get a sight of the Queen.

  "I am riding to Derby," he said, "with my man. But if to turn aside atChartley would give us a chance of seeing her, I would do so. A queen incaptivity is worth seeing. And I can see you are a man of influence."

  The clerk looked at him shrewdly; he was a man plainly in love with hisown importance, and the priest's last words were balm to him.

  "It might be done," he said. "I do not know."

  Robin saw the impression he had made, and that the butter could not betoo thick.

  "I am sure you could do it for me," he said, "if any man could. But Iunderstand that a man of your position may be unwilling--"

  The clerk solemnly laid a hand on the priest's arm.

  "Well, I will tell you this," he said. "Get speech with Mr. Bourgoign,her apothecary. He alone has access to her now, besides her own women.It might be he could put you in some private place to see her go by."

  This was not much use, thought Robin; but, at least, it gave himsomething to begin at: so he thanked the clerk solemnly andreverentially, and was rewarded by another discreet pat on the arm.

  * * * * *

  The sight of the Chartley woods, tall and splendid in the light of thesetting sun, and already tinged here and there with the first marks ofautumn, brought his indecision to a point; and he realized that he hadno plan. He had heard that Mary occasionally rode abroad, and he hopedperhaps to get speech with her that way; but what he had heard from theclerk and others showed him that this small degree of liberty was nowdenied to the Queen. In some way or another he must get news of Mr.Bourgoign. Beyond that he knew nothing.

  * * * * *

  The great gates of Chartley were closed as the two came up to them.There was a lodge beside them, and a sentry stood there. A bell wasringing from the great house within the woods, no doubt for supper-time,but there was no other human being besides the sentry to be seen. SoRobin did not even check his weary horse; but turned only, with adeliberately curious air, as he went past and rode straight on. Then, ashe rounded a corner he saw smoke going up from houses, it seemed,outside the park.

  "What is that?" asked Arnold suddenly. "Do you hear--?"

  A sound of a galloping horse grew louder behind them, and a momentafterwards the sound of another. The two priests were still in view ofthe sentry; and knowing that Chartley was guarded now as if it had allthe treasures of the earth within, Robin reflected that to show toolittle interest might arouse as sharp suspicion as too much. So hewheeled his horse round and stopped to look.

  They heard the challenge of the sentry within, and then the unbarring ofthe gates. An instant later a courier dashed out and wheeled to theright, while at the same time the second galloper came to view--anothercourier on a jaded horse; and the two passed--the one plainly riding toLondon, the second arriving from it. The gates were yet open; but thesecond was challenged once more before he was allowed to pass and hishoofs sounded on the road that led to the house. Then the gates clashedtogether again.

  Robin turned his horse's head once more towards the houses, consciousmore than ever how near he was to the nerves of England's life, and whattragic ties they were between the two royal cousins, that demanded sucha furious and frequent exchange of messages.

  "We must do our best here," he said, nodding towards the little hamlet.

  II

  It was plainly a newly-grown little group of houses that bordered theside of the road away from the enclosed park--sprung up as a kind ofoverflow lodging for the dependants necessary to such a suddenlyincreased household; for the houses were no more than wooden dwellings,ill-roofed and ill-built, with the sap scarcely yet finished oozing fromthe ends of the beams and the planks. Smoke was issuing, in most cases,from rough holes cut in the roofs, and in the last rays of sunshine twoor three men were sitting on stools set out before the houses.

  Robin checked his horse before a man whose face seemed kindly, and whosaluted courteously the fine gentleman who looked about with such anair.

  "My horse is dead-spent," he said curtly. "Is there an inn here where myman and I can find lodging?"

  The man shook his head, looking at the horse compassionately. He had theair of a groom about him.

  "I fear not, sir, not within five miles; at least, not with a room tospare."

  "This is Chartley, is it not?" asked the priest, noticing that the nextman, too, was listening.

  "Aye, sir."

  "Can you tell me if my friend Mr. Bourgoign lodges in the house, orwithout the gates?"

  "Mr. Bourgoign, sir? A friend of yours?"

  "I hope so," said Robin, smiling, and keeping at least within the letterof truth.

  The man mused a moment.

  "It is possible he might help you, sir. He lodges in the house; but hecomes sometimes to see a woman that is sick here."

  Robin demanded where she lived.

  "At the last house, sir--a little beyond the rest. She is one of herGrace's kitchen-women. They moved her out here, thinking it might be thefever she had."

  This was plainly a communicative fellow; but the priest thought it wisernot to take too much interest. He tossed the man a coin and rode on.

  * * * * *

  The last house was a little better built than the others, and stoodfurther back from the road. Robin dismounted here, and, with a nod toMr. Arnold, who was keeping his countenance admirably, walked up to thedoor and knocked on it. It was opened instantly, as if he were expected,but the woman's face fell when she saw him.

  "Is Mr. Bourgoign
within?" asked the priest.

  The woman glanced over him before answering, and then out to where thehorses waited.

  "No, sir," she said at last. "We were looking for him just now...."(She broke off.) "He is coming now," she said.

  Robin turned, and there, walking down the road, was an old man, leaningon a stick, richly and soberly dressed in black, wearing a black beaverhat on his head. A man-servant followed him at a little distance.

  The priest saw that here was an opportunity ready-made; but there wasone more point on which he must satisfy himself first, and what seemedto him an inspiration came to his mind.

  "He looks like a minister," he said carelessly.

  A curious veiled look came over the woman's face. Robin made a boldventure. He smiled full in her face.

  "You need not fear," he said. "I quarrel with no man's religion;" and,at the look in her face at this, he added: "You are a Catholic, Isuppose? Well, I am one too. And so, I suppose, is Mr. Bourgoign."

  The woman smiled tremulously, and the fear left her eyes.

  "Yes, sir," she said. "All the friends of her Grace are Catholics, Ithink."

  He nodded to her again genially. Then, turning, he went to meet theapothecary, who was now not thirty yards away.

  * * * * *

  It was a pathetic old figure that was hobbling towards him. He seemed aman of near seventy years old, with a close-cropped beard and spectacleson his nose, and he carried himself heavily and ploddingly. Robin arguedto himself that it must be a kindly man who would come out at thishour--perhaps the one hour he had to himself--to visit a poor dependant.Yet all this was sheer conjecture; and, as the old man came near, he sawthere was something besides kindliness in the eyes that met his own.

  He saluted boldly and deferentially.

  "Mr. Bourgoign," he said in a low voice, "I must speak five minutes withyou. And I ask you to make as if you were my friend."

  The old man stiffened like a watch-dog. It was plain that he was on hisguard.

  "I do not know you, sir."

  "I entreat you to do as I ask. I am a priest, sir. I entreat you to takemy hand as if we were friends."

  A look of surprise went over the physician's face.

  "You can send me packing in ten minutes," went on Robin rapidly, at thesame time holding out his hand. "And we will talk here in the road, ifyou will."

  There was still a moment's hesitation. Then he took the priest's hand.

  "I am come straight from London," went on Robin, still speaking clearly,yet with his lips scarcely moving. "A fortnight ago I talked with Mr.Babington."

  The old man drew his arm close within his own.

  "You have said enough, or too much, at present, sir. You shall walk withme a hundred yards up this road, and justify what you have said."

  "We have had a weary ride of it, Mr. Bourgoign.... I am on the road toDerby," went on Robin, talking loudly enough now to be overheard, as hehoped, by any listeners. "And my horse is spent.... I will tell you mybusiness," he added in a lower tone, "as soon as you bid me."

  Fifty yards up the road the old man pressed his arm again.

  "You can tell me now, sir," he said. "But we will walk, if you please,while you do so."

  * * * * *

  "First," said Robin, after a moment's consideration as to his bestbeginning, "I will tell you the name I go by. It is Mr. Alban. I am anewly-made priest, as I told you just now; I came from Rheims scarcely afortnight ago. I am from Derbyshire; and I will tell you my proper nameat the end, if you wish it."

  "Repeat the blessing of the deacon by the priest at mass," murmured Mr.Bourgoign to the amazement of the other, without the change of aninflection in his voice or a movement of his hand.

  "_Dominus sit in corde tuo et in labiis_--" began the priest.

  "That is enough, sir, for the present. Well?"

  "Next," said Robin, hardly yet recovered from the extraordinarypromptness of the challenge--"Next, I was speaking with Mr. Babington afortnight ago."

  "In what place?"

  "In the inn called the 'Red Bull,' in Cheapside."

  "Good. I have lodged there myself," said the other. "And you are one--"

  "No, sir," said Robin, "I do not deny that I spoke with them all--withMr. Charnoc and--"

  "That is enough of those names, sir," said the other, with a small andfearful lift of his white eyebrows, as if he dreaded the very trees thatnearly met overhead in this place. "And what is your business?"

  "I have satisfied you, then--" began Robin.

  "Not at all, sir. You have answered sufficiently so far; that is all. Iwish to know your business."

  "The night following the day on which the men fled, of whom I have justspoken, I had a letter from--from their leader. He told me that all waslost, and he gave me a letter to her Grace here--"

  He felt the thin old sinews under his hand contract suddenly, andpaused.

  "Go on, sir," whispered the old voice.

  "A letter to her Grace, sir. I was to use my discretion whether Icarried it with me, or learned it by rote. I have other interests atstake besides this, and I used my discretion, and destroyed the letter."

  "But you have some writing, no doubt--"

  "I have none," said Robin. "I have my word only."

  There was a pause.

  "Was the message private?"

  "Private only to her Grace's enemies. I will tell you the substance ofit now, if you will."

  The old man, without answering, steered his companion nearer to thewall; then he relinquished the supporting arm, and leaned himselfagainst the stones, fixing his eyes full upon the priest, and searching,as it seemed, every feature of his face and every detail of his dress.

  "Was the message important, sir?"

  "Important only to those who value love and fidelity."

  "I could deliver it myself, then?"

  "Certainly, sir. If you will give me your word to deliver it to herGrace, as I deliver it to you, and to none else, I will ride on andtrouble you no more."

  "That is enough," said the physician decidedly. "I am completelysatisfied, Mr. Alban. All that remains is to consider how I can get youto her Grace."

  "But if you yourself will deliver--" began Robin.

  An extraordinary spasm passed over the other's face, that might denoteany fierce emotion, either of anger or grief.

  "Do you think it is that?" he hissed. "Why, man, where is yourpriesthood? Do you think the poor dame within would not give her soulfor a priest?... Why, I have prayed God night and day to send us apriest. She is half mad with sorrow; and who knows whether ever again inthis world--"

  He broke off, his face all distorted with pain; and Robin felt a strangethrill of glory at the thought that he bore with him, in virtue of hispriesthood only, so much consolation. He faced for the first time thattremendous call of which he had heard so much in Rheims--that desolatecry of souls that longed and longed in vain for those gifts which apriest of Christ could alone bestow....

  "... The question is," the old man was saying more quietly, "how to getyou in to her Grace. Why, Sir Amyas opens her letters even, and resealsthem again! He thinks me a fool, and that I do not know what he does....Do you know aught of medicine?" he asked abruptly.

  "I know only what country folks know of herbs."

  "And their names--their Latin names, man?" pursued the other, leaningforward.

  Robin half smiled.

  "Now you speak of it," he said, "I have learned a good many, as apastime, when I was a boy. I was something of a herbalist, even. But Ihave forgotten--"

  "Bah! that would be enough for Sir Amyas--"

  He turned and spat venomously at the name.

  "Sir Amyas knows nothing save his own vile trade. He is a lout--no more.He is as grim as a goose, always. And you have a town air about you," hewent on, running his eyes critically over the young man's dress. "Thoseare French clothes?"

  "They were bought in France."


  The two stood silent. Robin's excitement beat in all his veins, in spiteof his weariness. He had come to bear a human message only to abereaved Queen; and it seemed as if his work were to be rather thebearing of a Divine message to a lonely soul. He watched the old man'sface eagerly. It was sunk in thought.... Then Mr. Bourgoign took himabruptly by the arm.

  "Give me your arm again," he said. "I am an old man. We must be goingback again. It seems as if God heard our prayers after all. I will seeyou disposed for to-night--you and your man and the horses, and I willsend for you myself in the morning. Could you say mass, think you? if Ifound you a secure place--and bring Our Lord's Body with you in themorning?"

  He checked the young man, to hear his answer.

  "Why, yes," said Robin. "I have all things that are needed."

  "Then you shall say mass in any case ... and reserve our Lord's Body ina pyx.... Now listen to me. If my plan falls as I hope, you must be aphysician to-morrow, and have practised your trade in Paris. You havebeen in Paris?"

  "No, sir."

  "Bah!... Well, no more has Sir Amyas!... You have practised your tradein Paris, and God has given you great skill in the matter of herbs. And,upon hearing that I was in Chartley, you inquired for your old friend,whose acquaintance you had made in Paris, five years ago. And I, uponhearing you were come, secured your willingness to see my patient, ifyou would but consent. Your reputation has reached me even here; youhave attended His Majesty in Paris on three occasions; you restoredMademoiselle Elise, of the family of Guise, from the very point ofdeath. You are but a young man still; yet--Bah! It is arranged. Youunderstand? Now come with me."