CHAPTER III--THE DEAD SPY
Throughout this furious and rapid passage, Lawless had looked onhelplessly, and even when all was over, and Dick, already re-arisen tohis feet, was listening with the most passionate attention to the distantbustle in the lower storeys of the house, the old outlaw was stillwavering on his legs like a shrub in a breeze of wind, and still stupidlystaring on the face of the dead man.
"It is well," said Dick, at length; "they have not heard us, praise thesaints! But, now, what shall I do with this poor spy? At least, I willtake my tassel from his wallet."
So saying, Dick opened the wallet; within he found a few pieces of money,the tassel, and a letter addressed to Lord Wensleydale, and sealed withmy Lord Shoreby's seal. The name awoke Dick's recollection; and heinstantly broke the wax and read the contents of the letter. It wasshort, but, to Dick's delight, it gave evident proof that Lord Shorebywas treacherously corresponding with the House of York.
The young fellow usually carried his ink-horn and implements about him,and so now, bending a knee beside the body of the dead spy, he was ableto write these words upon a corner of the paper:
My Lord of Shoreby, ye that writt the letter, wot ye why your man is ded? But let me rede you, marry not.
JON AMEND-ALL.
He laid this paper on the breast of the corpse; and then Lawless, who hadbeen looking on upon these last manoeuvres with some flickering returnsof intelligence, suddenly drew a black arrow from below his robe, andtherewith pinned the paper in its place. The sight of this disrespect,or, as it almost seemed, cruelty to the dead, drew a cry of horror fromyoung Shelton; but the old outlaw only laughed.
"Nay, I will have the credit for mine order," he hiccupped. "My jollyboys must have the credit on't--the credit, brother;" and then, shuttinghis eyes tight and opening his mouth like a precentor, he began tothunder, in a formidable voice:
"If ye should drink the clary wine"--
"Peace, sot!" cried Dick, and thrust him hard against the wall. "In twowords--if so be that such a man can understand me who hath more wine thanwit in him--in two words, and, a-Mary's name, begone out of this house,where, if ye continue to abide, ye will not only hang yourself, but mealso! Faith, then, up foot! be yare, or, by the mass, I may forget thatI am in some sort your captain and in some your debtor! Go!"
The sham monk was now, in some degree, recovering the use of hisintelligence; and the ring in Dick's voice, and the glitter in Dick'seye, stamped home the meaning of his words.
"By the mass," cried Lawless, "an I be not wanted, I can go;" and heturned tipsily along the corridor and proceeded to flounder down-stairs,lurching against the wall.
So soon as he was out of sight, Dick returned to his hiding-place,resolutely fixed to see the matter out. Wisdom, indeed, moved him to begone; but love and curiosity were stronger.
Time passed slowly for the young man, bolt upright behind the arras. Thefire in the room began to die down, and the lamp to burn low and tosmoke. And still there was no word of the return of any one to theseupper quarters of the house; still the faint hum and clatter of thesupper party sounded from far below; and still, under the thick fall ofthe snow, Shoreby town lay silent upon every side.
At length, however, feet and voices began to draw near upon the stair;and presently after several of Sir Daniel's guests arrived upon thelanding, and, turning down the corridor, beheld the torn arras and thebody of the spy.
Some ran forward and some back, and all together began to cry aloud.
At the sound of their cries, guests, men-at-arms, ladies, servants, and,in a word, all the inhabitants of that great house, came flying fromevery direction, and began to join their voices to the tumult.
Soon a way was cleared, and Sir Daniel came forth in person, followed bythe bridegroom of the morrow, my Lord Shoreby.
"My lord," said Sir Daniel, "have I not told you of this knave BlackArrow? To the proof, behold it! There it stands, and, by the rood, mygossip, in a man of yours, or one that stole your colours!"
"In good sooth, it was a man of mine," replied Lord Shoreby, hangingback. "I would I had more such. He was keen as a beagle and secret as amole."
"Ay, gossip, truly?" asked Sir Daniel, keenly. "And what came hesmelling up so many stairs in my poor mansion? But he will smell nomore."
"An't please you, Sir Daniel," said one, "here is a paper written uponwith some matter, pinned upon his breast."
"Give it me, arrow and all," said the knight. And when he had taken intohis hand the shaft, he continued for some time to gaze upon it in asullen musing. "Ay," he said, addressing Lord Shoreby, "here is a hatethat followeth hard and close upon my heels. This black stick, or itsjust likeness, shall yet bring me down. And, gossip, suffer a plainknight to counsel you; and if these hounds begin to wind you, flee! 'Tislike a sickness--it still hangeth, hangeth upon the limbs. But let ussee what they have written. It is as I thought, my lord; y' are marked,like an old oak, by the woodman; to-morrow or next day, by will come theaxe. But what wrote ye in a letter?"
Lord Shoreby snatched the paper from the arrow, read it, crumpled itbetween his hands, and, overcoming the reluctance which had hithertowithheld him from approaching, threw himself on his knees beside the bodyand eagerly groped in the wallet.
He rose to his feet with a somewhat unsettled countenance.
"Gossip," he said, "I have indeed lost a letter here that much imported;and could I lay my hand upon the knave that took it, he shouldincontinently grace a halter. But let us, first of all, secure theissues of the house. Here is enough harm already, by St. George!"
Sentinels were posted close around the house and garden; a sentinel onevery landing of the stair, a whole troop in the main entrance-hall; andyet another about the bonfire in the shed. Sir Daniel's followers weresupplemented by Lord Shoreby's; there was thus no lack of men or weaponsto make the house secure, or to entrap a lurking enemy, should one bethere.
Meanwhile, the body of the spy was carried out through the falling snowand deposited in the abbey church.
It was not until these dispositions had been taken, and all had returnedto a decorous silence, that the two girls drew Richard Shelton from hisplace of concealment, and made a full report to him of what had passed.He, upon his side, recounted the visit of the spy, his dangerousdiscovery, and speedy end.
Joanna leaned back very faint against the curtained wall.
"It will avail but little," she said. "I shall be wed to-morrow, in themorning, after all!"
"What!" cried her friend. "And here is our paladin that driveth lionslike mice! Ye have little faith, of a surety. But come, friendlion-driver, give us some comfort; speak, and let us hear bold counsels."
Dick was confounded to be thus outfaced with his own exaggerated words;but though he coloured, he still spoke stoutly.
"Truly," said he, "we are in straits. Yet, could I but win out of thishouse for half an hour, I do honestly tell myself that all might still gowell; and for the marriage, it should be prevented."
"And for the lions," mimicked the girl, "they shall be driven."
"I crave your excuse," said Dick. "I speak not now in any boastinghumour, but rather as one inquiring after help or counsel; for if I getnot forth of this house and through these sentinels, I can do less thannaught. Take me, I pray you, rightly."
"Why said ye he was rustic, Joan?" the girl inquired. "I warrant he hatha tongue in his head; ready, soft, and bold is his speech at pleasure.What would ye more?"
"Nay," sighed Joanna, with a smile, "they have changed me my friend Dick,'tis sure enough. When I beheld him, he was rough indeed. But itmatters little; there is no help for my hard case, and I must still beLady Shoreby!"
"Nay, then," said Dick, "I will even make the adventure. A friar is notmuch regarded; and if I found a good fairy to lead me up, I may findanother belike to carry me down. How call they the name of this spy?"
"Ru
tter," said the young lady; "and an excellent good name to call himby. But how mean ye, lion-driver? What is in your mind to do?"
"To offer boldly to go forth," returned Dick; "and if any stop me, tokeep an unchanged countenance, and say I go to pray for Rutter. Theywill be praying over his poor clay even now."
"The device is somewhat simple," replied the girl, "yet it may hold."
"Nay," said young Shelton, "it is no device, but mere boldness, whichserveth often better in great straits."
"Ye say true," she said. "Well, go, a-Mary's name, and may Heaven speedyou! Ye leave here a poor maid that loves you entirely, and another thatis most heartily your friend. Be wary, for their sakes, and make notshipwreck of your safety."
"Ay," added Joanna, "go, Dick. Ye run no more peril, whether ye go orstay. Go; ye take my heart with you; the saints defend you!"
Dick passed the first sentry with so assured a countenance that thefellow merely figeted and stared; but at the second landing the mancarried his spear across and bade him name his business.
"_Pax vobiscum_," answered Dick. "I go to pray over the body of thispoor Rutter."
"Like enough," returned the sentry; "but to go alone is not permittedyou." He leaned over the oaken balusters and whistled shrill. "Onecometh!" he cried; and then motioned Dick to pass.
At the foot of the stair he found the guard afoot and awaiting hisarrival; and when he had once more repeated his story, the commander ofthe post ordered four men out to accompany him to the church.
"Let him not slip, my lads," he said. "Bring him to Sir Oliver, on yourlives!"
The door was then opened; one of the men took Dick by either arm, anothermarched ahead with a link, and the fourth, with bent bow and the arrow onthe string, brought up the rear. In this order they proceeded throughthe garden, under the thick darkness of the night and the scatteringsnow, and drew near to the dimly-illuminated windows of the abbey church.
At the western portal a picket of archers stood, taking what shelter theycould find in the hollow of the arched doorways, and all powdered withthe snow; and it was not until Dick's conductors had exchanged a wordwith these, that they were suffered to pass forth and enter the nave ofthe sacred edifice.
The church was doubtfully lighted by the tapers upon the great altar, andby a lamp or two that swung from the arched roof before the privatechapels of illustrious families. In the midst of the choir the dead spylay, his limbs piously composed, upon a bier.
A hurried mutter of prayer sounded along the arches; cowled figures kneltin the stalls of the choir, and on the steps of the high altar a priestin pontifical vestments celebrated mass.
Upon this fresh entrance, one of the cowled figures arose, and, comingdown the steps which elevated the level of the choir above that of thenave, demanded from the leader of the four men what business brought himto the church. Out of respect for the service and the dead, they spokein guarded tones; but the echoes of that huge, empty building caught uptheir words, and hollowly repeated and repeated them along the aisles.
"A monk!" returned Sir Oliver (for he it was), when he had heard thereport of the archer. "My brother, I looked not for your coming," headded, turning to young Shelton. "In all civility, who are ye? and atwhose instance do ye join your supplications to ours?"
Dick, keeping his cowl about his face, signed to Sir Oliver to move apace or two aside from the archers; and, so soon as the priest had doneso, "I cannot hope to deceive you, sir," he said. "My life is in yourhands."
Sir Oliver violently started; his stout cheeks grew pale, and for a spacehe was silent.
"Richard," he said, "what brings you here, I know not; but I muchmisdoubt it to be evil. Nevertheless, for the kindness that was, I wouldnot willingly deliver you to harm. Ye shall sit all night beside me inthe stalls: ye shall sit there till my Lord of Shoreby be married, andthe party gone safe home; and if all goeth well, and ye have planned noevil, in the end ye shall go whither ye will. But if your purpose bebloody, it shall return upon your head. Amen!"
And the priest devoutly crossed himself, and turned and louted to thealtar.
With that, he spoke a few words more to the soldiers, and taking Dick bythe hand, led him up to the choir, and placed him in the stall beside hisown, where, for mere decency, the lad had instantly to kneel and appearto be busy with his devotions.
His mind and his eyes, however, were continually wandering. Three of thesoldiers, he observed, instead of returning to the house, had got themquietly into a point of vantage in the aisle; and he could not doubt thatthey had done so by Sir Oliver's command. Here, then, he was trapped.Here he must spend the night in the ghostly glimmer and shadow of thechurch, and looking on the pale face of him he slew; and here, in themorning, he must see his sweetheart married to another man before hiseyes.
But, for all that, he obtained a command upon his mind, and built himselfup in patience to await the issue.