CHAPTER VI
TABLE-TALK AT MODBURY MANOR.
At this same time, while Gilbert and Timothy were continuing theirjourney homeward through the darkness and the driving sleet after theirencounter with the unknown robbers in Beddington Dingle, LordChampernoun and his household were seated at the supper-table in thegreat dining-hall of Modbury Manor. Some friends were withthem--high-born ladies and noble gentlemen who had been of a hawkingparty that day, and had come back very weary and full of the enjoymentof the sport. Chief among the ladies, both for her beauty and wit andfor her noble birth, was the Lady Elizabeth Oglander--or Lady Betty, asshe was familiarly called--who, as the widow of the Honourable EdmundOglander, was now the mistress of Modbury Manor; and among the men, SirWalter Raleigh and those two gallant seamen, Sir Francis Drake and SirRichard Grenville.
It was a very large and splendid hall, with a high arched roof and tallembrasured windows, whose broad panes were rich with heraldic devices incoloured glass. The walls were panelled with carved oak and adorned withstags' horns, suits of armour, halberds, swords, and crossbows. Thelower parts of the windows and the heavy clamped doors were covered withtapestry to keep out the draught, and in the huge red cavern of thefireplace the flaming logs roared and crackled, sending forth strangemoving shadows across the rush-strewn floor, and casting a brightflicker of light upon the wings of the brass pelicans that stood gazingout from either side of the hearth.
At the head of the long table sat the aged baron himself, GilbertOglander's grandfather, a kindly, white-haired, white-bearded gentleman,wearing a doublet of black velvet with gold chains and a snowy whiteruff. His guests and the members of his household were all grown-uppersons, with the one exception of Drusilla Oglander; and Drusilla, whowas still scarce more than a little girl and had but lately left thenursery, seemed to be very lonely in consequence. She had no companionnear her at the table saving the family bloodhound, Nero, whoseponderous head rested upon her knee, ready to gobble such morsels ofmeat as the girl might pick from her plate and give to him. There was avacant seat at her side, but her brother Gilbert, who had gone intoPlymouth that afternoon, had not returned to occupy it, and she wasperforce content to listen silently to the talk that was going on amongher elders at the upper end of the table. Yet quite as often did shefind entertainment in listening to the men and women who sat below thegreat salt-cellar--the barrier which separated them from those who wereabove them in station.
One of the men, a rosy-faced young falconer who had been with thehawking party, was boasting of how Sir Walter Raleigh had deigned tohold speech with him, and to ask his opinion concerning the possibilityof stopping a falcon in its full flight and making the bird returnobediently to the lure. The fact that the great courtier had thushonoured him seemed to have given the man the right to speak withauthority on all matters with which Sir Walter Raleigh was personallyconcerned.
"Wait until the meal is over," Drusilla heard him say; "wait and youshall see him taking tobacco. 'Tis a wonderous sight, my masters. I haveseen him at it with mine own eyes. He can blow the smoke out through hisnostrils in two long tubes, or drink it down into his inside as onemight drink a cup of malmsey. Ay, 'tis a marvellous habit, is it not,Christopher Pym?"
He glanced across the table at a pale, abstracted-looking man, withstraight black hair and lack-lustre eyes. Christopher Pym seemed to feelhimself out of place among these his table companions, for in spite ofhis threadbare cloak and his ragged wristbands he was still a ripescholar and a born gentleman. He smiled faintly and answered:
"Ay, truly, Master Hawksworth, 'tis a marvellous habit--marvellous inthat it is indulged in by gentlefolk. For my own part, I like it not. Aswell might you make a chimney of your throat at once, and call in thechimney-sweep o' mornings to sweep out the black soot."
"'Tis plain to see that thou hast never tried it," remarked Hawksworth."But after all, 'twas never intended for poor schoolmasters."
Christopher Pym quietly broke off a few crumbs from his piece of bread,and holding them in his thin fingers proceeded slowly to cleanse hisplatter.
"No," he said with another faint smile. "There be few such luxuries thata poor tutor can afford out of five marks a year. But I am well contentto live without the vile herb and let others take it who may."
"'Tis a right gentlemanly accomplishment, I warrant you," pursuedHawksworth; "ay, and one which may gain a man great fame if he butexercise it with skill. Look at young Sir Anthony Killigrew, forexample; he hath made himself famous in Plymouth by his skill, for hecan not only blow the smoke from his nose, but he hath performed a muchmore wondrous trick; for on a day in last week he took three long whiffsfrom his tobacco-pipe, drank three cups of canary on the top of them,then took horse, and brought forth the smoke, one whiff at Burrington,the second at Bickley, and the third at Tamerton. 'Twas he who firsttaught Master Gilbert Oglander to drink tobacco, although 'tis true thelad misliked it and hath since abandoned it."
"Master Gilbert hath shown greater wisdom in abandoning it than intaking to it," observed Christopher Pym, shaking his head with regret athis pupil's weakness.
Hearing her brother's name, Drusilla leaned over across the salt-box andsaid:
"I pray you, Master Pym, can you tell me what hath kept my brother solate in Plymouth?"
"My lord sent him into the town on some private business, MistressDrusilla," answered the poor tutor. "I know of naught else that can havedetained him. He hath taken Timothy Trollope to bear him company,however, and you may be assured no harm will come to him."
Drusilla leaned back in her chair, refusing the plate of roastedpheasant that was offered to her by one of the blue-coated serving-men.Her eyes rested upon the cheerful countenance of Sir Francis Drake, andthen upon the proud cold face of Sir Walter Raleigh, who sat next tohim. She had never, before this same day, seen Sir Walter Raleigh, andhis courtly manners seemed somehow to give him a dignity which made itthat she dared not have approached him. Even his gay apparel, hisjewelled doublet, his stiffly-starched ruff, and his white be-ringedfingers placed him at such a distance from her that he appeared to befar too grand and proud ever to think of taking notice of a little girl.
With Sir Francis Drake it was very different. She had known him to cometo Modbury more than once on purpose to see her, as he had said; he hadcome into the nursery and played with her and told her stories; andonce, when Gilbert had been making a toy ship to sail in the lake, SirFrancis had sat down on the nursery floor and taken out his knife andsome string and helped to rig the little vessel. They had called theboat the _Revenge_, which was the name of the ship that Sir Francis hadcommanded when he went out to fight against the Spanish Armada, and onboard of which he had won such glory for himself and for England. AsDrusilla looked across at him now his eyes met hers, and he raised histall glass of canary wine, bowing to her with as much polite grace as ifshe had been a full-grown lady. She returned his greeting with a smile,raising her little silver tankard of new milk and saying:
"To your good health, Sir Francis."
Then the voice of Lord Champernoun was heard from the head of the table.
"So it seemeth, Sir Francis, that thou hast once more been incurring HerMajesty's displeasure?"
"How so, baron?" questioned Drake, looking up in surprise.
"Marry! In the matter of the King of Spain," returned Lord Champernoun."It doth appear from what I have lately heard that Her Majesty'sgovernment have received information that King Philip, knowing how youhad fallen into disgrace with Queen Elizabeth, hath been secretly makingovertures to you to enter the Spanish service and lead a new armadaagainst England. Zounds, man, we shall soon be hearing that thou hastturned Papist also, I suppose!"
Drake laughed, and playfully stroked his full and curly beard. There wasa merry twinkle in his large clear eyes.
"'Tis not the first time that His Majesty of Spain hath so approachedme," said he. "Her Majesty (God bless her!) is at liberty to believe, ifshe
so listeth, that I am about to accept Spain's generous offers. 'Tisher gracious habit to think ill of me. But methinks the people ofEngland will still believe me incapable of such treachery."
Sir Walter Raleigh's silvery voice interposed:
"Thou hast given but a half-denial of the matter, Drake," said he as hereached his hand to the middle of the table and picked an apple from oneof the plates. "And I do assure thee that Her Majesty will require afuller proof ere she consent to forgive thee. All thy endeavours to winher favour by the building of flour-mills and the making ofwater-conduits for this town of Plymouth will go for little against thissuspicious rumour."
"And, prithee, what punishment doth Her Majesty intend to mete out to mewithal?" questioned Drake. "Hath she given orders that I am to beclapped into the Tower, or held to ransom like our Spanish prisoners?"
"Scarcely that," answered Raleigh. "She hath but decided to give theethe command at Plymouth, with orders to keep the town in a state ofdefence, and so resist any attempt by the Spaniards to invade ourwestern ports."
"There is small consolation in that," returned Drake. "I had hoped, asye all know, that I might be deemed worthy to take the command of thegreat expedition against Panama that hath been in contemplation so long.'Tis mine by right, and it hath been the dream of my life."
"That same command hath been graciously reserved for myself," said SirWalter Raleigh. And he seemed to smile at the mortification that cameinto his rival's face.
There was silence for a few moments, and then the gruff voice of SirRichard Grenville broke in.
"Thou'lt not forget me, cousin Walter, when 'tis question of Panama?"said he. "'Twould suit my disposition well to be made thy vice-admiral."
"And touching that same matter, Raleigh," interposed Lord Champernoun ashe pushed back his great chair and crossed his legs, "I would ask you toreserve a place on board your ship for my grandson Gilbert. The lad hathlong been beseeching me to launch him upon the world of action."
"I'll think on't, baron," said Raleigh with a slight nod of his headthat showed he had no great desire to favour the young heir of Modbury.
"The boy shall come with me, my lord, if Sir Waiter takes him not,"cried Sir Richard Grenville. "I promise you that."
"I had rather see Gilbert Oglander under mine own wing," declared Drakein an undertone.
"Ay, if that wing be not already broken," suggested Raleigh.
The Lady Betty glanced at Lord Champernoun with anxiety in her eyes.
"Surely Gilbert is yet too young to be trusted upon the sea," sheobjected. "Hath not his family already sacrificed enough to theSpaniards that thou shouldst consent to this thing? Thine own two sonshave given up their lives in foreign lands. I pray thee spare me mine."
Lord Champernoun made no answer, for at that moment one of theserving-men had come to his side and whispered some message into hisear. Drusilla saw her grandfather start back as if in alarm. His face,in the light of the table-candles, was seen to have become suddenly verypale. Drusilla instantly thought of her brother Gilbert, and feared thatsome great ill had happened to him. She looked towards the door behindher grandfather's chair.
It opened, and there came into the hall, not her brother nor evenTimothy Trollope, but a tall dark man who was a complete stranger toher. He removed his wide slouched hat as he entered, and his long cloak,which was besprinkled with snow-flakes, fell from his shoulders,revealing a much-worn and faded doublet with tarnished braid and ominousstains. He was followed by a much younger man, whom Timothy Trollope,had he chanced to be present, would doubtless have recognized as theforeign-looking youth he had encountered at the door of the ThreeFlagons.
Drusilla noticed that the youth's cloak was bespattered with mud, butshe remembered that the roads were bad, and opined that he had had sometrifling accident. He took off the garment and laid it with his hat andsword upon one of the oak benches that were against the wall. He seemedto be exceedingly modest, for he stood in the background like one whohad been suddenly brought into a strange place, and had not yet musteredthe courage to raise his eyes and see for himself what manner of placeit happened to be.
Lord Champernoun rose from his chair but did not advance to meet thestrangers.
"Jasper Oglander, did you say?" he cried in astonishment, turning asideto the serving-man. "Jasper Oglander? 'Tis impossible!"
"Ay, 'tis Jasper Oglander," said the stranger, stepping forward andstanding in front of the old baron. "Dost not know me, father?"
Lord Champernoun raised his trembling hand and ran his fingers nervouslythrough his thin locks of white hair.
"I understand you not," he faltered. "Jasper Oglander is dead--deadthese many years. They have told me so. And yet--"
"Haply the news was more welcome to your lordship than my presence herejust now," interrupted the stranger with a dark frown on his brow."Believe me, sir, I had not wished to break in upon your merriment. Buthaving only this afternoon arrived in the port of Plymouth, I deemed itmy duty to present myself before you without further loss of time."
"Your better duty would have been to acquaint me of your existence ascore of years ago," his lordship returned with stern rebuke. And then,his eyes falling upon the figure of the bashful youth, he added:"Prithee, who is the stripling at your heels?"
"Your grandson, my lord--Philip Oglander to wit--born in Brazil in theyear fifteen hundred and seventy-four."
"And his mother?" pursued the baron questioningly.
The stranger twirled his newly-trimmed moustachios and answered:
"His mother, so please you, is now resting in Plymouth town, at the signof the Three Flagons. The weather is somewhat inclement for a lady totravel, and she is weary after our long voyage. In good time, when shehath been furnished with new apparel--apparel more befitting herappearance among such fine ladies as I do see here now,--I shall givemyself the pleasure of presenting her in her English home."
Lord Champernoun bit his lip. It was evident that his newly-returned sonwas not to be heartily welcomed.
By this time the servants at the lower end of the table, having finishedtheir supper, had retired from the hall. The ladies, too, had risen, andSir Walter Raleigh, with courtly gallantry, had opened the door leadingout into the adjoining hall, whence already the sounds of music could beheard.
Lady Betty passed out, followed by her lady guests, glancing as she didso towards the intruder with something akin to indignation in herbeautiful blue eyes.
"'Tis some impostor, I'll avow," she whispered to Raleigh as she camenear him, "or else some Spanish spy, masquerading in the character ofthe long-lost Jasper. Thou'lt join us presently, Sir Walter?"
"Gladly, my lady, so you promise us a song," said he, bowing low. Andwhen the ladies had all retired, leaving only Drusilla behind them, hestrolled back into the hall and made his way to the fireplace, where,seating himself, he proceeded to fill his tobacco-pipe.
Sir Francis Drake had apparently paid but slight attention to theentrance of Jasper Oglander and his son Philip, but had remained at thetable cracking nuts. He had cracked about a dozen of them and clearedthe kernels of all remnants of shell and rough skin, and now he gatheredthem in his hand and rose, beckoning to Drusilla.
"These be for you, sweetheart," said he as he offered them to her. "Andnow I must hie me back to Plymouth. Wilt kiss me?"
She held up her face, and he put his two hands upon her shoulders andheld her from him at the full length of his strong arms. Then he bentdown and pressed his lips upon her white forehead. "Give yougood-night," he added, "and God be with you always!"
"Good-night!" she answered, and her eyes followed him as he went away,limping slightly in his walk. She saw him stop suddenly as he came nearto where her grandfather and Jasper Oglander were still standing. Hedrew back a step, looking up into Jasper's face, and, as it seemed,fixing his gaze upon the old wound on the man's cheek.
"'Sdeath! Captain Drake, you here?" cried Jasper Oglander in a tone ofastonishment and no less of annoyance. "Art thou
a wizard?" And hehesitatingly held out his hand.
Drake affected not to notice this offer of friendship, but stoodunmoved, his round head with its short curly brown hair held proudlyback, his great broad chest expanded, and his muscular figure poisedwith easy grace. Compared with the tall man in front of him he seemed tobe of very low stature; but there was a dignity about him which theother entirely lacked.
"A wizard?" he repeated. Then shrugging his shoulders he added: "That isas it may be. But I thank God in that I am at least an honestEnglishman, who hath no cause to go skulking about the world as thouhast been doing, Master Oglander." He turned to Lord Champernoun. "Giveyou good-night, my lord!" he said as they shook hands, and then he wentround for his cape and hat, which were hanging up near the fireplace,where Sir Walter Raleigh and some others were already regalingthemselves amid a cloud of tobacco smoke.
Lord Champernoun had bidden his new-found son and Philip Oglander sitdown at the table and take some supper. Meat and drink had been broughtin for them, and they were eating with an appetite which betrayed thatthey had long been unaccustomed to such goodly fare.
Meanwhile Drusilla had withdrawn to one of the window embrasures, whereshe sat munching her Brazilian nuts. Sir Richard Grenville stood nearher, examining a suit of armour that was propped up in the corner.
"'Tis the armour that was worn by Sir Stephen Oglander in the wars ofthe Roses," the girl informed him. "And the curved sword that is hangingnear it on the next panel was taken by my grandfather in a certainbattle against the Turks--not this grandfather, you know, but the otherone, my mother's father, the Earl of Dersingham."
"Ah! so thine ancestor fought against the Infidels, eh?" said Grenville,and pushing aside Philip Oglander's cloak, which lay on the bench, hesat down beside her. "Didst know that I too have been in battle againstthem?"
"No," she answered, open-eyed. "Prithee, tell me of it. Was it by sea orby land?"
"By land for the most part," he returned; "but the greatest battle wasby sea, and it took place in the Gulf of Lepanto. 'Twas the mostglorious engagement and the most honourable victory I have ever takenpart in, saving only the late fight which you wot of against the dons ofSpain. I will tell thee of it if thou'rt not too weary. 'Twill pass thetime until your brother comes in."
As he spoke he took up Philip Oglander's rapier, and in mere idleness hedrew the long narrow blade from its leathern scabbard, held the weaponout in front of him and glanced along it with critical eye, examined itscurious basket hilt of twisted metal, then pressed his thumb against thesharp point, took the point end in one hand and the hilt in the other,and bent the blade to test its flexible spring, and finally held theweapon out once more at arm's-length.
"The battle was betwixt the Turks and the Christians," he went on. Buthere he was abruptly interrupted. Philip Oglander had risen from thetable and crossed the floor towards him.
"Your pardon, my master, but that rapier is mine!" cried the lad instrange excitement, speaking with his mouth full of food.
Sir Richard Grenville glanced up at him in surprise, still retaining theweapon.
"A goodly blade too, o' my conscience," he muttered with a grim smile."Fashioned in Toledo, I warrant me. 'Tis not often we see its like inEngland, save in the hands of our country's foes. But I would warn you,young sir, that 'tis a good three inches too long to suit QueenElizabeth's regulations. I should counsel you to have it clipped ere youventure to carry it again through English streets."
He handed the rapier to its owner, holding it by the end of the blade.Philip Oglander received it, sullenly returned it to its scabbard, andstrode back to the table, there to continue his supper.
Grenville was about to proceed with his narrative of Lepanto fight whenDrusilla laid her fingers upon his arm.
"See!" she cried. "Thou hast wounded thy hand, 'tis bleeding!"
"Nay, but I felt no cut," said he. "And yet," he added, looking at hisopened palms, "there is surely blood there. However, Mistress Drusilla,to go on with our story. I was saying that 'twas a fight betwixt theChristians and the Infidels--the Cross against the Crescent--"
"Wait," interrupted the girl. "I heard but this moment the sound of ahorse's feet in the courtyard. It must surely be Gilbert returned. Ipray you tarry here till I come back." And so saying she tripped lightlyto the end of the hall and flung open the door by which her uncle andcousin had lately entered.
There was a murmur of voices from without. The further door at the endof the outer hall stood open, and by the aid of the large hanging lampin the great arched porchway she could see the form of a horse, withTimothy Trollope and Bob Harvey by its side. They were helping Gilbertdown from the horse's back. Drusilla saw his face, and it was very pale;she saw that when they lifted him down to the ground he could scarcelystand, but was obliged to lean for support on Trollope's shoulder.
"I might even have guessed that some ill had happened to thee since thouart so late in coming home, Gilbert," she said, disguising her inwardalarm. "Art badly hurt? Hast thou been thrown from thy horse?"
"Nay, 'tis nothing, good my sister," answered Gilbert as cheerily as hisweakness allowed. "'Tis naught but a sprained ankle."
"Ay, but the blood!" said she, touching him on his right arm. "What doththis bode?"
"A scratch he got in a tussle we have had with some vagabond gypsiesdown in the dingle," explained Timothy Trollope, well-nigh breathlessafter his long run by the horse's side. "Prithee, be not alarmed,Mistress Drusilla." He signed to Bob Harvey. "Take you his heels, Bob,while I take him by the shoulders. We had best carry him within."
Drusilla went before them while they carried him into the dining-hall.She was met on the threshold by Sir Francis Drake, who was then on thepoint of leaving, a saddled horse being already in waiting for himoutside to carry him back to Plymouth. On being hurriedly told what hadhappened he returned into the hall, threw off his cape and hat, turnedup his cuffs, and prepared to exercise his surgical skill in attendingto Gilbert's hurts.
"A knife, if you please, Mistress Drusilla," he said, when Timothy hadlaid the wounded lad upon one of the settles near to the fire. And whenthe knife was brought he quietly ripped open Gilbert's sleeve,discovering the wound.
"'Tis nothing serious," he said reassuringly to Lord Champernoun, whostood near with Raleigh, Grenville, and many others who had crowdedround. "Let him have a warm potion to drink and some food, an he willbut take it, and when I have bound up the arm he had best be put tobed."
Timothy Trollope moved to the table to get a cup of mulled sack. As hewas passing behind where Drusilla stood he caught sight of JasperOglander and his son, both of whom, having risen from their supper, werelooking over the girl's shoulders at Gilbert. There was a subdued lookof enmity in Jasper Oglander's eyes, which Timothy did not understand.He remembered it long afterwards, however, when circumstances and abetter knowledge of the man's nature explained its meaning.