CHAPTER XIV
THE KING'S CUP
At least the Vicar would be pleased! A whimsical joy in the anticipationof his delight shot across my gloomy meditations as the sunset raysthreaded their way through the narrow window of the chamber that was mycell. The thought of him stayed with me, amusing my idleness andentertaining my fancy. I could imagine his wise, contented nod, far fromsurprise as the poles are apart, full of self-approval as an egg ofmeat. For his vision had been clear, in him faith had never wavered. Ofa truth, the prophecy which old Betty Nasroth spoke (foolishness thoughit were) was, through Fortune's freak, two parts fulfilled. Whatremained might rest unjustified to my great content; small comfort had Iwon from so much as had come to pass. I had loved where the King loved,and my youth, though it raised its head again, still reeled under theblow; I knew what the King hid--aye, it might be more than one thingthat he hid; my knowledge landed me where I lay now, in closeconfinement with a gaoler at my door. For my own choice, I would cravethe Vicar's pardon, would compound with destiny, and, taking theproportion of fate's gifts already dealt to me in lieu of all, would goin peace to humbler doings, beneath the dignity of dark prophecy, butmore fit to give a man quiet days and comfort in his life. Indeed, as mylord Quinton had said long ago, there was strange wine in the King'scup, and I had no desire to drink of it. Yet who would not have beenmoved by the strange working of events which made the old woman'sprophecy seem the true reading of a future beyond guess or reasonableforecast? I jeered and snarled at myself, at Betty, at her prophecy, atthe Vicar's credulity. But the notion would not be expelled; two partsstood accomplished, but the third remained. "Glamis thou art, andCawdor, and shalt be what thou art promised!"--I forget how it runs on,for it is long since I saw the play, though I make bold to think that itis well enough written. Alas, no good came of listening to witchesthere, if my memory holds the story of the piece rightly.
There is little profit, and less entertainment, in the record of myangry desponding thoughts. Now I lay like a log, again I ranged the cellas a beast his cage. I cared not a stiver for Buckingham's schemes, Ipaid small heed to Nell's jealousy. It was nought to me who should bethe King's next favourite, and although I, with all other honest men,hated a Popish King, the fear of him would not have kept me from mysleep or from my supper. Who eats his dinner the less though a kingdomfall? To take a young man's appetite away, and keep his eyes open o'nights, needs a nearer touch than that. But I had on me a horror of whatwas being done in this place; they sold a lady's honour there, throwingit in for a make-weight in their bargain. I would have dashed the scalesfrom their hands, but I was helpless. There is the truth: a man need notbe ashamed for having had a trifle of honesty about him when he wasyoung. And if my honesty had the backing of something else that I myselfknew not yet, why, for honesty's good safety, God send it such backingalways! Without some such aid, it is too often brought to terms andsings small in the end.
The evening grew late and darkness had fallen. I turned again to mysupper and contrived to eat and to drink a glass or two of wine.Suddenly I remembered Jonah Wall, and sent a curse after the negligentfellow, wherever he might be, determining that next morning he shouldtake his choice between a drubbing and dismissal. Then I stretchedmyself again on the pallet, resolute to see whether a man could willhimself asleep. But I had hardly closed my eyes when I opened them againand started up, leaning on my elbow. There was somebody in conversationwith my gaoler. The conference was brief.
"Here's the King's order," I heard, in a haughty, careless tone. "Openthe door, fellow, and be quick."
The door was flung open. I sprang to my feet with a bow. The Duke ofBuckingham stood before me, surveying my person (in truth, my state wasvery dishevelled) and my quarters with supercilious amusement. There wasone chair, and I set it for him; he sat down, pulling off hislace-trimmed gloves.
"You are the gentleman I wanted?" he asked.
"I have reason to suppose so, your Grace," I answered.
"Good," said he. "The Duke of Monmouth and I have spoken to the King onyour behalf."
I bowed grateful acknowledgments.
"You are free," he continued, to my joy. "You'll leave the Castle in twohours," he added, to my consternation. But he appeared to perceiveneither effect of his words. "Those are the King's orders," he endedcomposedly.
"But," I cried, "if I leave the Castle how can I fulfil your Grace'sdesire?"
"I said those were the King's orders. I have something to add to them.Here, I have written it down, that you may understand and not forget.Your lantern there gives a poor light, but your eyes are young. Readwhat is written, sir."
I took the paper that he handed me and read:
"In two hours' time be at Canonsgate. The gate will be open. Two servingmen will be there with two horses. A lady will be conducted to the gateand delivered into your charge. You will ride with her as speedily aspossible to Deal. You will call her your sister, if need arise to speakof her. Go to the hostelry of the Merry Mariners in Deal, and thereawait a gentleman, who will come in the morning and hand you fiftyguineas in gold. Deliver the lady to this gentleman, return immediatelyto London, and lie in safe hiding till word reaches you from me."
I read and turned to him in amazement.
"Well," he asked, "isn't it plain enough?"
"The lady I can guess," I answered, "but I pray your Grace to tell mewho is the gentleman."
"What need is there for you to know? Do you think that more than onewill seek you at the Merry Mariners Tavern and pray your acceptance offifty guineas?"
"But I should like to know who this one is."
"You'll know when you see him."
"With respect to your Grace, this is not enough to tell me."
"You can't be told more, sir."
"Then I won't go."
He frowned and beat his gloves on his thigh impatiently.
"A gentleman, your Grace," said I, "must be trusted, or he cannotserve."
He looked round the little cell and asked significantly,
"Is your state such as to entitle you to make conditions?"
"Only if your Grace has need of services which I can give or refuse," Ianswered, bowing.
His irritation suddenly vanished, or seemed to vanish. He leant back inhis chair and laughed.
"Yet all the time," said he, "you've guessed the gentleman! Isn't it so?Come, Mr Dale, we understand one another. This service, if all goeswell, is simple. But if you're interrupted in leaving the Castle, youmust use your sword. Well, if you use your sword and don't provevictorious, you may be taken. If you're taken it will be best for us allthat you shouldn't know the name of this gentleman, and best for him andfor me that I should not have mentioned it."
The little doubt I had harboured was gone. Buckingham and Monmouth werehand in hand. Buckingham's object was political, Monmouth was to findhis reward in the prize that I was to rescue from the clutches of M. dePerrencourt and hand over to him at the hostelry in Deal. If successattended the attempt, I was to disappear; if it failed, my name and Iwere to be the shield and bear the brunt. The reward was fifty guineas,and perhaps a serviceable gratitude in the minds of two great men,provided I lived to enjoy the fruit of it.
"You'll accept this task?" asked the Duke.
The task was to thwart M. de Perrencourt and gratify the Duke ofMonmouth. If I refused it, another might accept and accomplish it; ifsuch a champion failed, M. de Perrencourt would triumph. If I accepted,I should accept in the fixed intention of playing traitor to one of myemployers. I might serve Buckingham's turn, I should seek to thwartMonmouth.
"Who pays me fifty guineas?" I asked.
"Faith, I," he answered with a shrug. "Young Monmouth is enough hisfather's son to have his pockets always empty."
On this excuse I settled my point of casuistry in an instant.
"Then I'll carry the lady away from the Castle," I cried.
He started, leant forward, and looked hard in my face. "What do youmean, what do you know?" he ask
ed plainly enough, although silently. ButI had cried out with an appearance of zeal and innocence that baffledhis curiosity, and my guileless expression gave his suspicions no food.Perhaps, too, he had no wish to enquire. There was little love betweenhim and Monmouth, for he had been bitterly offended by the honours andprecedence assigned to the Duke; only a momentary coincidence ofinterest bound them together in this scheme. If the part that concernedBuckingham were accomplished, he would not break his heart on account ofthe lady not being ready for Monmouth at the hostelry of the MerryMariners.
"I think, then, that we understand one another, Mr Dale?" said he,rising.
"Well enough, your Grace," I answered with a bow, and I rapped on thedoor. The gaoler opened it.
"Mr Dale is free to go where he will within the Castle. You can returnto your quarters," said Buckingham.
The soldier marched off. Buckingham turned to me.
"Good fortune in your enterprise," he said. "And I give you joy on yourliberty."
The words were not out of his mouth when a lieutenant and two menappeared, approaching us at a rapid walk, nay, almost at a run. Theymade directly for us, the Duke and I both watching them. The officer'ssword was drawn in his hand, their daggers were fixed in the muzzles ofthe soldiers' muskets.
"What's happened now?" asked Buckingham in a whisper.
The answer was not long in coming. The lieutenant halted before us,crying,
"In the King's name, I arrest you, sir."
"On my soul, you've a habit of being arrested, sir," said the Dukesharply. "What's the cause this time?"
"I don't know," I answered; and I asked the officer, "On what account,sir?"
"The King's orders," he answered curtly. "You must come with me atonce." At a sign from him his men took their stand on either side of me.Verily, my liberty had been short! "I must warn you that we shall standat nothing if you try to escape," said the officer sternly.
"I'm not a fool, sir," I answered. "Where are you going to take me?"
"Where my orders direct."
"Come, come," interrupted Buckingham impatiently, "not so much mystery.You know me? Well, this gentleman is my friend, and I desire to knowwhere you take him."
"I crave your Grace's pardon, but I must not answer."
"Then I'll follow you and discover," cried the Duke angrily.
"At your Grace's peril," answered the officer firmly. "If you insist, Imust leave one of my men to detain you here. Mr Dale must go alone withme."
Wrath and wonder were eloquent on the proud Duke's face. In me this newmisadventure bred a species of resignation. I smiled at him, as I said,
"My business with your Grace must wait, it seems."
"Forward, sir," cried the officer, impatiently, and I was marched off ata round pace, Buckingham not attempting to follow, but turning back inthe direction of the Duke of Monmouth's quarters. The confederates mustseek a new instrument now; if their purpose were to thwart the King'swishes, they might not find what they wanted again so easily.
I was conducted straight and quickly to the keep, and passed up thesteps that led to the corridor in which the King was lodged. Theyhurried me along, and I had time to notice nothing until I came to adoor near the end of the building, on the western side. Here I foundDarrell, apparently on guard, for his sword was drawn and a pistol inhis left hand.
"Here, sir, is Mr Dale," said my conductor.
"Good," answered Darrell briefly. I saw that his face was very pale, andhe accorded me not the least sign of recognition. "Is he armed?" heasked.
"You see I have no weapons, Mr Darrell," said I stiffly.
"Search him," commanded Darrell, ignoring me utterly.
I grew hot and angry. The soldiers obeyed the order. I fixed my eyes onDarrell, but he would not meet my gaze; the point of his sword tappedthe floor on which it rested, for his hand was shaking like a leaf.
"There's no weapon on him," announced the officer.
"Very well. Leave him with me, sir, and retire with your men to the footof the steps. If you hear a whistle, return as quickly as possible."
The officer bowed, turned about, and departed, followed by his men.Darrell and I stood facing one another for a moment.
"In hell's name, what's the meaning of this, Darrell?" I cried. "HasMadame brought the Bastille over with her, and are you made Governor?"
He answered not a word. Keeping his sword still in readiness, heknocked with the muzzle of his pistol on the door by him. After a momentit was opened, and a head looked out. The face was Sir ThomasClifford's; the door was flung wide, a gesture from Darrell bade meenter. I stepped in, he followed, and the door was instantly shut closebehind us.
I shall not readily forget the view disclosed to me by the flaring oillamps hung in sconces to the ancient smoky walls. I was in a narrowroom, low and not large, scantly furnished with faded richness, and hungto half its height with mouldering tapestries. The floor was bare, anduneven from time and use. In the middle of the room was a long table ofpolished oak wood; in the centre of it sat the King, on his left was theDuchess of Orleans, and beyond her the Duke of York; on the King's rightat the end of the table was an empty chair; Clifford moved towards itnow and took his seat; next to him was Arlington, then Colbert deCroissy, the Special Envoy of the French King. Next to our King wasanother empty chair, an arm-chair, like the King's; empty it was, but M.de Perrencourt leant easily over the back of it, with his eyes fixed onme. On the table were materials for writing, and a large sheet of paperfaced the King--or M. de Perrencourt; it seemed just between them. Therewas nothing else on the table except a bottle of wine and two cups; onewas full to the brim, while the liquor in the other fell short of thetop of the glass by a quarter of an inch. All present were silent; saveM. de Perrencourt, all seemed disturbed; the King's swarthy faceappeared rather pale than swarthy, and his hand rapped nervously on thetable. All this I saw, while Darrell stood rigidly by me, sword in hand.
Madame was the first to speak; her delicate subtle face lit up withrecognition.
"Why, I have spoken with this gentleman," she said in a low voice.
"And I also," said M. de Perrencourt under his breath.
I think he hardly knew that he spoke, for the words seemed the merestunconscious outcome of his thoughts.
The King raised his hand, as though to impose silence. Madame bowed inapologetic submission, M. de Perrencourt took no heed of the gesture,although he did not speak again. A moment later he laid his hand onColbert's shoulder and whispered to him. I thought I heard just aword--it was "Fontelles." Colbert looked up and nodded. M. dePerrencourt folded his arms on the back of the chair, and his faceresumed its impassivity.
Another moment elapsed before the King spoke. His voice was calm, butthere seemed still to echo in it a trace of some violent emotion newlypassed; a slight smile curved his lips, but there was more malice thanmirth in it.
"Mr Dale," said he, "the gentleman who stands by you once beguiled anidle minute for me by telling me of a certain strange prophecy madeconcerning you which he had, he said, from your own lips, and in whichmy name--or at least some King's name--and yours were quaintly coupled.You know what I refer to?"
I bowed low, wondering what in Heaven's name he would be at. It was, nodoubt, high folly to love Mistress Gwyn, but scarcely high treason.Besides, had not I repented and forsworn her? Ah, but the second memberof the prophecy? I glanced eagerly at M. de Perrencourt, eagerly at thepaper before the King. There were lines on the paper, but I could notread them, and M. de Perrencourt's face was fully as baffling.
"If I remember rightly," pursued the King, after listening to awhispered sentence from his sister, "the prediction foretold that youshould drink of my cup. Is it not so?"
"It was so, Sir, although what your Majesty quotes was the end, not thebeginning of it."
For an instant a smile glimmered on the King's face; it was gone and heproceeded gravely.
"I am concerned only with that part of it. I love prophecies and I loveto see them f
ulfilled. You see that cup there, the one that is not quitefull. That cup of wine was poured out for me, the other for my friend M.de Perrencourt. I pray you, drink of my cup and let the prophecy standfulfilled."
In honest truth I began to think that the King had drunk other cupsbefore and left them not so full. Yet he looked sober enough, and therest were grave and mute. What masquerade was this, to bring me underguard and threat of death to drink a cup of wine? I would have drunk adozen of my free will, for the asking.
"Your Majesty desires me to drink that cup of wine?" I asked.
"If you please, sir; the cup that was poured out for me."
"With all my heart," I cried, and, remembering my manners, I added, "andwith most dutiful thanks to Your Majesty for this signal honour."
A stir, hardly to be seen, yet certain, ran round the table. Madamestretched out a hand towards the cup as though with a sudden impulse toseize it; the King caught her hand and held it prisoner. M. dePerrencourt suddenly dragged his chair back and, passing in front of it,stood close over the table. Colbert looked up at him, but his eyes werefixed on me, and the Envoy went unnoticed.
"Then come and take it," said the King.
I advanced after a low bow. Darrell, to my fresh wonder, kept pace withme, and when I reached the table was still at my side. Before I couldmove his sword might be through me or the ball from his pistol in mybrains. The strange scene began to intoxicate me, its stirringsuggestion mounting to my head like fumes of wine. I seized the cup andheld it high in my hand. I looked down in the King's face, and thence toMadame's; to her I bowed low and cried:
"By His Majesty's permission I will drain this cup to the honour of thefairest and most illustrious Princess, Madame the Duchess of Orleans."
The Duchess half-rose from her seat, crying in a loud whisper, "Not tome, no, no! I can't have him drink it to me."
The King still held her hand.
"Drink it to me, Mr Dale," said he.
I bowed to him and put the cup to my lips. I was in the act to drink,when M. de Perrencourt spoke.
"A moment, sir," he said calmly. "Have I the King's permission to tellMr Dale a secret concerning this wine?"
The Duke of York looked up with a frown, the King turned to M. dePerrencourt as if in doubt, the Frenchman met his glance and nodded.
"M. de Perrencourt is our guest," said the King. "He must do as hewill."
M. de Perrencourt, having thus obtained permission (when was his willdenied him?), leant one hand on the table and, bending across towardsme, said in slow, calm, yet impressive tones:
"The King, sir, was wearied with business and parched with talking; ofhis goodness he detected in me the same condition. So he bade my goodfriend and his good subject Mr Darrell furnish him with a bottle ofwine, and Mr Darrell brought a bottle, saying that the King's cellarwas shut and the cellarman in bed, but praying the King to honour him bydrinking his wine, which was good French wine, such as the King lovedand such as he hoped to put before His Majesty at supper presently. ThenHis Majesty asked whence it came, and Mr Darrell answered that he wasindebted for it to his good friend Mr Simon Dale, who would be honouredby the King's drinking it."
"Why, it's my own wine then!" I cried, smiling now.
"He spoke the truth, did he?" pursued M. de Perrencourt composedly. "Itis your wine, sent by you to Mr Darrell?"
"Even so, sir," I answered. "Mr. Darrell's wine was out, and I sent himsome bottles of wine by his servant."
"You knew for what he needed it?"
I had forgotten for the moment what Robert said, and hesitated in myanswer. M. de Perrencourt looked intently at me.
"I think," said I, "that Robert told me Mr Darrell expected the King tosup with him."
"He told you that?" he asked sharply.
"Yes, I remember that," said I, now thoroughly bewildered by the historyand the catechism which seemed necessary to an act so simple as drinkinga glass of my own wine.
M. de Perrencourt said nothing more, but his eyes were still set on myface with a puzzled searching expression. His glance confused me, and Ilooked round the table. Often at such moments the merest trifles catchour attention, and now for the first time I observed that a little ofthe wine had been spilt on the polished oak of the table; where it hadfallen the bright surface seemed rusted to dull brown. I noticed thechange, and wondered for an idle second how it came that wine turned apolished table dull. The thing was driven from my head the next momentby a brief and harsh order from the King.
"Drink, sir, drink."
Strained with excitement, I started at the order, and slopped some ofthe wine from the cup on my hand. I felt a strange burning where itfell; but again the King cried, "Drink, sir."
I hesitated no more. Recalling my wandering wits and determining to playmy part in the comedy, whatever it might mean, I bowed, cried "God saveyour Majesty," and raised the cup to my lips. As it touched them, I sawMadame hide her eyes with her hand and M. de Perrencourt lean fartheracross the table, while a short quick gasp of breath came from whereDarrell stood by my side.
I knew how to take off a bumper of wine. No sippings and swallowings forme! I laid my tongue well down in the bottom of my mouth that the liquormight have fair passage to my gullet, and threw my head back as you seea hen do (in thanks to heaven, they say, though she drinks only water).Then I tilted the cup, and my mouth was full of the wine. I wasconscious of a taste in it, a strange acrid taste. Why, it was poorwine, turned sour; it should go back to-morrow; that fool Jonah was afool in all things; and I stood disgraced for offering this acrid stuffto a friend. And he gave it to the King! It was the cruellest chance.Why----
Suddenly, when I had gulped down but one good mouthful, I saw M. dePerrencourt lean right across the table. Yet I saw him dimly, for myeyes seemed to grow glazed and the room to spin round me, the figures atthe table taking strange shapes and weird dim faces, and a singingsounding in my ears, as though the sea roared there and not on Doverbeach. There was a woman's cry, and a man's arm shot out at me. I felt asharp blow on my wrist, the cup was dashed from my hand on to the stonefloor, breaking into ten thousand pieces, while the wine made a puddleat my feet. I stood there for an instant, struck motionless, glaringinto the face that was opposite to mine. It was M. de Perrencourt's, nolonger calm, but pale and twitching. This was the last thing I sawclearly. The King and his companions were fused in a shifting mass oftrunks and faces, the walls raced round, the singing of the sea roaredand fretted in my ears. I caught my hand to my brow and staggered; Icould not stand, I heard a clatter as though of a sword falling to thefloor, arms were stretched out to receive me and I sank into them,hearing a murmur close by me, "Simon, Simon!"
Yet one thing more I heard, before my senses left me--a loud, proud,imperious voice, the voice that speaks to be obeyed, whose assertionbrooks no contradiction. It rang in my ears where nothing else couldreach them, and even then I knew whence it came. The voice was the voiceof M. de Perrencourt, and it seemed that he spoke to the King ofEngland.
"Brother," he cried, "by my faith in God, this gentleman is innocent,and his life is on our heads, if he lose it."
I heard no more. Stupor veiled me round in an impenetrable mist. Thefigures vanished, the tumultuous singing ceased. A great silenceencompassed me, and all was gone.