CHAPTER X
HOW I SAW AN ENEMY AT THE WINDOW
My father replied about ten days after to the letter I had writ him,with another of so sweet a tenour (and yet shrewd enough in thebusiness parts of it), as reading it, I could have gone on my knees tohonour him. He made it clear at the outset that my bad bargain must atall hazards be ratified, and Mr. Wall's loan in full repaid. This heundertook to do, saying he had dispatched advices already to thegoldsmith, in which he acknowledged the debt, promising moreover toacquit himself of it as soon as he could.
"But at this present, Denis," he wrote, "to do so is not altogethereasy, though I hope 'twill not be long ere I shall compass it. And inorder to that end I have retired from the Court into a more modestdwelling (as you will perceive by the subscription) in the hamlet ofTolland, having been fortunate in letting at a fair rent the Court toyour old companion, Sir Matthew Juke, who, his new mansion in Devizesnot at all answering to his expectation, was at the very delivery ofyour letter hot to be rid of it; and therefore upon my first makingoffer of our house to him upon leasehold, he very eagerly assented tomy proposals."
But if the notion of that thin-blooded knight established in our oldhome greatly irked me, this which followed caused me an infinite dealof sorrow; for I was to learn of a secret malady of my father's whichhe had long been subject to, but had never before disclosed, althoughit had grievously increased upon him even to the time of my departurefrom the Combe, so that he sometimes had doubted of his being thenalive or, at the least, able to disguise any longer from me hisaffliction. "Had it been otherwise," he proceeded, "be well assuredthat upon your first motion of distress I would myself have come toyou, as indeed I would yet do (should Providence see fit to restore me)were it not for the too great dispences of the journey. For I make ofit no mystery, Denis, but speak with you openly as to one of man'sestate, when I affirm that the charges in this affair be somewhatlarger than with our late accustomed easiness we may satisfy. And thisbringeth me to the gravest part yet, and that which most I loathe tomake mention of, seeing it is not otherwise to be accomplished than inour continued severance. Notwithstanding between friends (as we are)plain speech is best, and I therefore say that I have a mind you shouldengage yourself in some occupation of trade in London; but such asyourself shall elect to follow; and to you I leave the choosingthereof. I will that you continue prosecuting our original design (Iintend your uncle's deliverance) as you shall have the opportunity andI the means. So much sufficeth for this time, and therefore I bid youfarewell,
"Who am your well-wishing and most fond father, "HUMPHREY CLEEVE."
(Followed the sign of the Inn he lay at, which I remembered to haveonce noted going through Tolland, and passed it by as a place of meanand beggarly entertainment.)
This letter I overread a score of times, and each time with the moreadmiration that a man of so principal a dignity and so observed, couldfind it in his mind thus voluntarily to lay by his honourable estateand depart a mere exile from his ancient home; and that with never amurmur of self pity; but quitting all simply and with a grandnegligence, as a man might do that puts up a fair-bound book he hasbeen reading, but now hath concluded.
'Twas sometime afterward I let my thought stay upon the meaning of thathe had writ of myself; and a longer time ere I could allow the plaintruth that we were come into an absolute poverty. I think not well toset down all the shifting considerations that moved me then, nor theweight of humiliation I undertook at this lapse and derogation from ourname. But all my dreams brake utterly asunder, and my hopes that haduntil now sustained me in pride. To be penniless I found a greaterevil far than to be sick, and in the first rage of my disappointment, Iquite lost all remembrance of my father (sick too) in the waysidetavern I had myself disdained to enter.
I was aloft in my room in the warden's house when this letter wasdelivered to me in the afternoon of the day following my passage withthe hosier's wife, and I remember how I sat by the window lookingacross the Bridge street, betwixt the tall houses, out upon the Riverand the great galleys in the Pool, and upon that square grey shadow ofthe Tower. All I saw appeared to me so large and unfettered, and to bespread so comely in the soft blue air that I could hardly bear toreduce my thoughts to the narrowness and cooped discipline of my ownfuture. The eulogy which Mr. Nelson had seen fit to pronounce uponmerchants and traders troubled my spleen not a little at theremembrance of it; and so out of measure did my resentment run that Istood by the mullion gnawing at my nails and casting blame hither andthither, so as none hardly escaped being made a party (as the attorneyscalled it) to the case of poverty into which I was fallen. Amongstother follies I allowed, was this: that I dared not now seek out my oldschoolmaster, lest from the height of his new soldier's calling heshould rail down upon me in Latin, which tongue seemeth to have beenexpressly fashioned for satire.
But such a resolution extended no further than to Mr. Jordan, for Istill cherished and held fast to the hope of discovering the maid andof thanking her, as was necessary (or at least upon the necessity of itI would admit no argument); and also of acquainting her of my presentand intolerable trouble. That she were, like enough, engaged in sometrade, as well as I, I never so much as conceived possible, but drew inadvance upon her store of pity for my singular misfortune.
The day grew towards evening as I stood thus, debating of thesematters, and the River came over all misted and purple and very grand.Here and there were lights too that went thwarting it, they being thegreat lanterns of the wherries and barges that continually traversedthe stream; and the fixed lights were these set upon the hithes andstairs, or else aloft in the houses by the bankside. 'Twas a wondrousmelancholy sight, methought, and seemed a sort of blazon and livelyimage of surrender, this decline of day into dark. For boylike Iomitted the significance of the lights burning, and received the nightonly into my soul.
"Mr. Denis, will't please you come below?" came a shrill voice athwartthese reflections and startled me.
"Is it supper?" I asked something petulantly, for I hated to bedisturbed.
"Nay, Master Dumps, 'tis the goodman's brother, the Queen's yeoman,that would speak with your little worship."
Something in her manner forbade my gainsaying her, so I went down intothe great kitchen where we commonly sat, and there found the warden,with the yeoman his brother in his scarlet apparel as I had before seenhim; his halberd set up in a corner where it took the glitter of thefire, and his velvet bonnet laid on the table. Mr. Nelson at oncepresented him to me, upon which he rose up with a salutation in themilitary manner, very stately, and then sat down without a word.
"I have ventured so far to meddle in your proper affairs, Mr. Cleeve,"said Gregory Nelson, "as to inquire of master sergeant here in whatsort your uncle is entreated in the Tower, as also whether theConstable would likely grant you access to him, he lying under soweighty an indictment."
"You have done kindly," I said, and told them both of the letter I hadreceived from my father, in which he had iterated his desire I shouldyet attempt his brother's release, or rather the procuring of his trialto that end. The sergeant nodded once or twice the while I spoke inthis fashion, but did not interrupt me. Nevertheless Madam Nelson, whoperceived that something was forward of which she had heard never aword, could scarce constrain herself to await the conclusion, whichwhen she had heard, she burst in--
"Ah, truly, Gregory Nelson," said she, setting a fist upon either hipand speaking very high and scornful, "when Providence gave thee me towife, He gave thee a notable blessing, and one of a pleasant aptitudeto discourse, yet not beyond discretion, as we women have a name(though without warrant) to go. But in giving thee to me, He furnishedme with nought but an ill-painted sign of the Dumb Man, so out of allreason dost thou hide and dissemble thy thoughts. Why, I had as liefbe married to Aldgate Pump as to thee, for all the news thou impartest,or comfort got of thee by the mouth's way; which was sure the wayintended of Him that made us with mouths and a comprehension of thing
sspoken. Yea, a very stockfish took I to mate in thee, Gregory, whosehabitation should be in Fishmongers Row, on a trestle-stall ofBillingsgate."
The cogency of this speech of the warden's wife, great as it might bein abuse, was yet so small in its effect upon her husband, that I wasfain to relate to the poor woman (who loved me for it ever after) thewhole story of Botolph Cleeve's imprisonment in the Tower, which herhusband had (so far prudently) kept silence upon.
"Poor man," cried she pitifully when she knew all, "ah, these poorsolitary prisoners! I marvel how good men can find it in their heartsto guard them from escaping thence. Were I a yeoman now," she added,with an eye askance upon the sergeant and after upon her husband, "Iwould suffer all such freely to depart thence without challenge, asdesired it, or at least such as led a Christian life and loved theirwives."
"Is my uncle kindly dealt with there?" I demanded of the yeoman, but tothat question he hesitated so long in his reply that I cried--
"If he be not, 'tis ill done, so to use a man that I hope to proveinnocent of this charge."
"'Tis because he is innocent belike, poor soul," quoth Madam Nelson,"that they do so use him. In this world it hath ever been the virtuouswhose faces are ground."
"Do you know where his dungeon is situate?" I asked, starting to myfeet as though I would go (and meant to) at once to the Lord Constable,"or if not you, then who doth know it?"
"None doth," he answered me slowly, "because he is not in the Tower."
"What mean you?" cried I, as soon as I could for astonishment. "Myuncle is not a prisoner there?"
"I trow otherwise!" retorted the warden's wife, who saw her pity illbestowed if she believed him.
"There hath been none of his name apprehended, nor none of hisdescription," said the yeoman.
"Then where is he?" I cried out bitterly, for I well enough perceivedthat all that great sum which we had been enticed into spending was fornothing lost, and ourselves beggars upon the mere fetch and cozeningimposture of a knave.
"Where he may be I know not," said the Bridge warden, before the yeomancould answer me, "but I think you came as near to him as might be, whenyou gave your money into the hands of Mr. John Skene."
"Skene--Skene! He--the attorney? You suppose him to be my uncle?" Igasped forth the words as one drowning.
He nodded. "It maketh the matter simple to suppose so," he said,"which else is hardly to be understood."
Perplexed as I then was, I could scarce believe him, albeit whateversurvey of the matter I made, I confessed the indications directed me,after infinite wanderings, ever back to the same point, which was thatmy uncle had manifestly lied in writing that he was kept prisoner, andby our belief in that lie, who but himself did he mean should benefit?Yet unless he were indeed Skene (and so received our twice five hundredpounds) he had gained nothing upon that throw, but lost it to anothermore cunning than he, which were a thing I thought scarcely to becredited.
The weight of this disclosure so whelmed me that I could do nor say nomore, but throwing my arm along the table, had my face down in it tohide the tears which would have course, try as I might to restrainthem. Good Dame Nelson, all blubbered too, leant over my shoulder tocomfort me, although her sympathy must have been something doubtfullyextended to one that wept because his uncle was proved to be not aprisoner, but in the full enjoyment of his liberty.
But after continuing in this case some while there came into my mindsome considerations of revenge, and they greatly comforting me, I satupright in my chair, and begged the tolerance of the two men for mylate weakness.
"Nay, say no more of it, lad," replied Mr. Nelson, "for no man likethto think of a villain at large, and in particular, if the villain be ofthe family."
And so, calling to his wife to serve up the supper, and to us to seatourselves about the board, he did his best to make me forget, for thatwhile, my troubles.
However I could eat but little, though I made appearance as if Irelished the wholesome steaming food; and not I only, but thesergeant-yeoman also, I soon perceived, did eat sparingly, and as onewhose mind was absent from the feast. And soon he ceased altogether,laying aside his knife and platter and clearing his throat with a sortof sob (which was the prelude to as moving a tale as ever I heard) andresting his great bearded cheek upon his hand.
"Why, what ails you, master sergeant?" cried Dame Nelson in quickcompassion; but it was to his brother, and not her, that he replied--
"You spake truly, Gregory," said he, "when you told Master Cleeve thatno man loveth to think of a villain at large if he be of one's ownfamily. But you spake it to my shame."
"I intended it not so, truly," said the warden very earnestly.
"I know it," said the yeoman, "but yet when you brought in the familyit touched me pretty near. Stay!" he said, when he saw that Gregorywould have interposed some further excuse. "You have not altogetherforgot my boy, Jack, that went a shipman in the Green Dragon upon avoyage into Barbary, two year since."
"I remember him very well," answered the warden, while his wifewhispered me that he had the finest pair of grey eyes you did ever see.
"I have received certain news of him but this very day," continued theyeoman, "which hath quite taken away my peace, and set my mind amidstperilous thoughts."
"A mercy on us!" cried the woman, starting up from the table; "whatwords be these, master sergeant?"
"He hath turned Turk," said the yeoman, in a thick voice.
"As being enforced thereto, God help him!" said Mr. Nelson; but hisbrother shook his head.
"'Twas his own will to do so," he said, and rose from the bench;whereupon we all rose too, though without well knowing wherefore, savethat we were strangely affected by his narrative. The yeoman went overto the corner where his great pike rested, and returning thence withit, he stood for some while quite still and upright (in such posture asa soldier doth upon guard), his eyes upon the bright fire which threwthe distorted huge shadow of him against the ceiling. At the last, ina small voice, as though he spake not to us, he said--
"From my youth I have been known for a God-fearing man, and one notgiven over to lightness. To the Queen I pledged my faith once, andhave kept it. Had I so much as in one point failed of my word, I wouldwillingly and without extenuation answer the same. And no less have Idealt with Heaven--faithfully, as befits a soldier. Then how comes itthat one born flesh of my flesh should do me this shame? Is it myreward and wages for stout service? Nay, had Heaven a quarrel with me,I would abide it. Had I defaulted, I should look to be punished inmine own person. But to defame me through my son; to fasten thereproach and scorn of a renegade upon me because he cowardly threwaside his faith; I say I like not that, nor think not that Heaven hathdealt with me as my captain would." He stayed his speech there quitesuddenly, and took up his black bonnet from the table, we allmarvelling the while, as much at his words as at the apostasy that hadoccasioned them. But this speech that ensued, which was spoken with aninfinite simplicity as he was going, moved us who listened to him, Ithink, more than all the rest. "And yet," said he, "there be armies inheaven;" and with that he left us and went his way.
The evening being very chill we were glad enough of an excuse to buildup a cheerful great fire on the hearth, and to sit before it forcomfort, although in truth we were sad at heart and but little inclinedto conversation.
I think 'twas about eight o'clock, and quite dark without, whensomething happened to divert our thoughts from the yeoman for thatnight at least, while for the rest I doubt if the yeoman himself weremore staggered when he heard of his son's error than I, when, chancingto lean back a little from the heat of the fire (and so turned my headaside), I saw, pressed close to the lattice panes of the window, aface, long and sallow, and with thick black curls clustered about it,which I knew on the instant belonged to that enemy of mine that hadsecretly spied upon me before, and now with an evident joy discoveredme again. But even as I looked he was gone; and I, with an exclamationof wrath, caught up my sword and
cap, and sprung out into the street tofollow him.