CHAPTER II
I
It was in Mr. Bassett's house at Langley that the news of the attack onPadley reached the two travellers a month later, and it bore news in itthat they little expected.
For it seemed that, entirely unexpectedly, there had arrived at Padleythe following night no less than three of the FitzHerbert family, Mr.Anthony the seventh son, with two of his sisters, as well as ThomasFitzHerbert's wife, who rode with them, whether as a spy or not wasnever known. Further, Mr. Fenton himself, hearing of their coming, hadridden up from Tansley, and missed the messenger that Marjorie had sentout. They had not arrived till late, missing again, by a series ofmischances, the scouts Marjorie had posted; and, on discovering theirdanger, had further discovered the house to be already watched. Theyjudged it better, therefore, as Marjorie said in her letter, to feignunconsciousness of any charge against them, since there was no priest inthe house who could incriminate them.
All this the travellers learned for the first time at Langley.
They had gone through into Staffordshire, as had been arranged, andthere had moved about from house to house of Catholic friends withoutany trouble. It was when at last they thought it safe to be movinghomewards, and had arrived at Langley, that they found Marjorie's letterawaiting them. It was addressed to Mr. John FitzHerbert and was broughtby Robin's old servant, Dick Sampson.
"The assault was made," wrote Marjorie, "according to the arrangement.Mr. Columbell himself came with a score of men and surrounded the housevery early, having set watchers all in place the evening before: theyhad made certain they should catch the master and at least a priest ortwo. But I have very heavy news, for all that; for there had come to thehouse after dark Mr. Anthony FitzHerbert, with two of his sisters, Mrs.Thomas FitzHerbert and Mr. Fenton himself, and they have carried the twogentlemen to the Derby gaol. I have had no word from Mr. Anthony, but Ihear that he said that he was glad that his father was not taken, andthat his own taking he puts down to his brother's account, as yourself,sir, also did. The men did no great harm in Padley beyond breaking apanel or two: they were too careful, I suppose, of what they think willbe Mr. Topcliffe's property some day! And they found none of thehiding-holes, which is good news. The rest of the party they let go freeagain for the present.
"I have another piece of bad news, too--which is no more than what wehad looked for: that Mr. Simpson at the Assizes was condemned to death,but has promised to go to church, so that his life is spared if he willdo so. He is still in the gaol, however, where I pray God that Mr.Anthony may meet with him and bring him to a better mind; so that hehath not yet denied our Lord, even though he hath promised to do so.
"May God comfort and console you, Mr. FitzHerbert, for this news of Mr.Anthony that I send."
* * * * *
The letter ended with messages to the party, with instructions for theirway of return if they should come within the next week; and with theexplanation, given above, of the series of misfortunes by which any cameto be at Padley that night, and how it was that they did not attempt tobreak out again.
* * * * *
The capture of Mr. Anthony was, indeed, one more blow to his father; butRobin was astonished how cheerfully he bore it; and said as much whenthey two were alone in the garden.
The grey old man smiled, while his eyelids twitched a little.
"They say that when a man is whipped he feels no more after awhile. Theformer blows prepare him and dull his nerves for the later, which, Itake it, is part of God's mercy. Well, Mr. Alban, my father hath been inprison a great while now; my son Thomas is a traitor, and a sworn man ofher Grace; I myself have been fined and persecuted till I have had tosell land to pay the fines with. I have seen family after family fallfrom their faith and deny it. So I take it that I feel the joy that Ihave a son who is ready to suffer for it, more than the pain I have inthinking on his sufferings. The one may perhaps atone for the sins ofthe other, and yet help him to repentance."
* * * * *
Life here at Langley was more encouraging than the furtive existencenecessary in the north of Derbyshire.
Mr. Bassett had a confident way with him that was like wine to faintinghearts, and he had every reason to be confident; since up to thepresent, beyond being forced to pay the usual fines for recusancy, hehad scarcely been troubled at all; and lived in considerable prosperity,having even been sheriff of Stafford in virtue of his other estates atBlore. His house at Langley was a great one, standing in a park, andshowing no signs of poverty; his servants were largely Catholic; heentertained priests and refugees of all kinds freely, althoughdiscreetly; and he laughed at the notion that the persecution could beof long endurance.
The very first night the travellers had come he had spoken withconsiderable freedom after supper.
"Look more hearty!" he cried. "The Spanish fleet will be here beforesummer to relieve us of all troubles, as of all heretics, too. Her Gracewill have to turn her coat once more, I think, when that comes to pass."
Mr. John glanced at him doubtfully.
"First," he said, "no man knows whether it will come. And, next, I forone am not sure if I even wish for it."
Mr. Bassett laughed loudly.
"You will dance for joy!" he said. "And why do you not know whether youwish it to come?"
"I have no taste to be a Spanish subject."
"Why, nor have I! But the King of Spain will but sail away again when hehath made terms against the privateers, whether they be those that plyon the high seas against men's bodies, or here in England against theirsouls. There will be no subjection of England beyond that."
Mr. John was silent.
"Why, I heard from Sir Thomas but a week ago, to ask for a little moneyto pay his fines with. He said that repayment should follow so soon asthe fleet should come. Those were his very words."
"You sent the money, then?"
"Why, yes; I made shift that a servant should throw down a bag with tenpounds in it, into a bush, and that Brittlebank--your brother'sman--should see him do it! And lo! when we looked again, the bag wasgone!"
He laughed again with open mouth. Certainly he was an inspiriting manwith a loud bark of his own; but Robin imagined that he would not bitetoo cruelly for all that. But he saw another side of him presently.
"What was that matter of Mr. Sutton, the priest who was executed inStafford last year?" asked Mr. John suddenly.
The face of the other changed as abruptly. His eyes became pin-pointsunder his grey eyebrows and his mouth tightened.
"What of him?" he said.
"It was reported that you might have stayed the execution, and wouldnot. I did not believe a word of it."
"It is true," said Mr. Bassett sharply--"at least a portion of it."
"True?"
"Listen," cried the other suddenly, "and tell me what you would havedone. Mr. Sutton was taken, and was banished, and came back again, asany worthy priest would do. Then he was taken again, and condemned. Idid my utmost to save him, but I could not. Then, as I would never haveany part in the death of a priest for his religion, another wasappointed to carry the execution through. Three days before news wasbrought to me by a private hand that Mr. Sutton had promised to give thenames of priests whom he knew, and of houses where he had said mass, andI know not what else; and it was said to me that I might on this accountstay the execution until he had told all that he could. Now I knew thatI could not save his life altogether; that was forfeited and there couldbe no forgiveness. All that I might do was to respite him for alittle--and for what? That he might damn his own soul eternally andbring a great number of good men into trouble and peril of death forthemselves. I sent the messenger away again, and said that I wouldlisten to no such tales. And Mr. Sutton died like a good priest threedays after, repenting, I doubt not, bitterly, of the weakness into whichhe had fallen. Now, sir, what would you have done in my place?"
He wagged his face fiercely fro
m side to side.
Mr. John put his hand over his eyes and nodded without speaking. Robinsat silent: it was not only for priests, it seemed, that life presenteda tangle.
II
The evening before the two left for the north again, Mr. Bassett tookthem both into his own study. It was a little room opening out of hisbedroom, and was more full of books than Robin had ever seen, except inthe library at Rheims, in any room in the world. A shelf ran round theroom, high on the wall, and was piled with manuscripts to the ceiling.Beneath, the book-shelves that ran nearly round the room were packedwith volumes, and a number more lay on the table and even in thecorners.
"This is my own privy chamber," said Mr. Bassett to the priest. "Myother friends have seen it many a time, but I thought I would show it toyour Reverence, too."
Robin looked round him in wonder: he had no idea that his host was a manof such learning.
"All the books are ranged in their proper places," went on the other. "Icould put my finger on any of them blind-fold. But this is the shelf Iwished you to see."
He took him to one that was behind the door, holding up the candle thathe might see. The shelf had a box or two on it, besides books, and thesehe opened and set on the table. Robin looked in, as he was told, butcould understand nothing that he saw: in one was a round ball of crystalon a little gold stand, wrapped round in velvet; in another some kind ofa machine with wheels; in a third, some dried substances, as of herbs,tied together with silk. He inspected them gravely, but was not invitedto touch them. Then his host touched him on the breast with one finger,and recoiled, smiling.
"This is my magic," he said. "John here does not like it; neither didpoor Mr. Fenton when he was here; but I hold there is no harm in suchthings if one does but observe caution."
"What do you do with them, sir?" inquired the priest curiously, for hewas not sure whether the man was serious.
"Well, sir, I hold that God has written His will in the stars, and inthe burning of herbs, and in the shining of the sun, and such things.There is no black magic here. But, just as we read in the sky atmorning, if it be red or yellow, whether it will be foul or fair, so Ihold that God has written other secrets of His in other things; and thatby observing them and judging rightly we may guess what He has in store.I knew that a prince was to die last year before ever it happened. Iknew that a fleet of ships will come to England this year, before everan anchor is weighed. And I would have you notice that here are Mr.FitzHerbert and your Reverence, too, fleeing for your lives; and heresit I safe at home; and all, as I hold, because I have been able toobserve by my magic what is to come to pass."
"But that strikes at the doctrine of free-will," cried the priest.
"No, sir; I think it does not. God's foreknowledge doth not hinder theuse of our free-will (which is a mystery, no doubt, yet none the lesstrue). Then why should God's foreknowledge any more hinder ourfree-will, when He chooses to communicate it to us?"
Robin was silent. He knew little or nothing of these things, except fromhis theological reading. Yet he felt uneasy. The other said nothing.
"And the stars, too?" he asked.
"I hold," said Mr. Bassett, "that the stars have certain influences andpowers upon those that are born under their signs. I do not hold that weare so ruled by these that we have no action of our own, any more thanwe are compelled to be wet through by rain or scorched by the sun: wemay always come into a house or shelter beneath a tree, and thus escapethem. So, too, I hold, with the stars. There is an old saying, sir: 'Thefool is ruled by his stars; the wise man rules them.' That is, in anutshell, my faith in the matter. I have told Mr. Fenton's fortune here,and Mr. FitzHerbert's, only they will never listen to me."
Robin looked round the room. It was dark outside long ago; they hadsupped at sunset, and sat for half an hour over their banquet ofsweetmeats and wine before coming upstairs. And the room, too, was asdark as night, except where far off in the west, beyond the tall treesof the park, a few red streaks lingered. He felt oppressed andmiserable. The place seemed to him sinister. He hated these fumblings atlocks that were surely meant to remain closed. Yet he did not know whatto say. Mr. John had wandered off to one of the windows and was humminguneasily to himself.
Then, suddenly, an intense curiosity overcame him.
His life was a strange and perilous one; he carried it in his hand everyday. In the morning he could not be sure but that he would be fleeingbefore evening. As he fell asleep, he could not be sure that he wouldnot be awakened to a new dream. He had long ago conquered those moods ofterror which, in spite of his courage, had come down on him sometimes,in some lonely farm, perhaps, where flight would be impossible--or, inwhat was far more dangerous, in some crowded inn where every movementwas known--these had passed, he thought, never to come back.
But in that little book-lined room, with these curious things in boxeson the table, and his merry host peering at him gravely, and the stillevening outside; with the knowledge that to-morrow he was to ride backto his own country, whence he had fled for fear of his life, six weeksago; leaving the security of this ex-sheriff's house for the perils ofthe Peak and all that suspected region from which even now, probably,the pursuit had not altogether died away--here a sudden intense desireto know what the future might hold overcame him.
"Tell me, sir," he said. "You have told Mr. FitzHerbert's fortune, yousay, as well as others. Have you told mine since I have been here?"
There was a moment's silence. Mr. John was silent, with his back turned.Robin looked up at his host, wondering why he did not answer. Then Mr.Bassett took up the candle.
"Come," he said; "we have been here long enough."