CHAPTER II
THE SECRET OF THE BLACK BOX
I must confess to a somewhat strange feeling in my heart when I lookedinto the woman's face. I felt sure that she was trying to understand themanner of man I was, so that she might make up her mind how far I couldbe of service to her. For, from the very first I could not think of heras a former serving woman of my mother. Humble of birth she might be,but I was very sure that her thoughts were other than those of a servingwoman, and that she had mixed herself up with affairs of importance. Hergreat dark searching eyes, her strongly moulded face, her determinedmouth all assured me that here was a woman of far-reaching plans, andone who would stop at nothing to carry those plans into effect.
"More mother than father," I heard her murmur again, and then she lookedfrom my father to me as though she were trying to discover thedifference between us.
"Well, Katharine," said my father, "you have discovered what you setyour heart upon, and which you spoke of when I saw you in St. Paul'sChurch."
The woman laughed mockingly.
"In less than a month the king will be in England," she said, "and, oh!what a king!" and then she fell to scanning our faces again.
"The people be already crying, 'God save the king!'" said my father."Already my old neighbours who fought for Charles I be looking forward tothe time when the Puritans will be despoiled like the Egyptians of old,and when they will be rewarded for being faithful to the royalty."
"Rewarded!" said the woman scornfully. "Will the eldest son of Charles Iever reward an honest man? I know him, Master Rashcliffe. He will bethe dupe of every knave, the puppet of every hussy in England. He willmake promises without end, but he will be too idle to perform them. Nohonest man will be the better for his return, and no one will havejustice unless that justice is forced from him."
"But have you discovered aught?" asked my father. "You know what youpromised me. Moreover, when I last saw the dame with whom you hadlodgment at the back of Aldersgate Street, she said you had your handupon the proof."
"And I am not one who makes promises lightly," replied the woman,"neither am I a woman who, having made up her mind, is easily turnedaside. Nevertheless, there remaineth much to be done, Master Rashcliffe.The matter is not child's play, and he who meddles with matters whichaffect the king is in danger of being accused of treason. For CharlesStuart can act to purpose when it suits him. That is why I have not cometo you before."
Here again the woman ceased speaking and scanned me closely.
"This son of yours hath never fought in the wars?" she saidquestioningly.
"Nay," replied my father. "During the first civil war he was too youngto bear arms. After that my heart was embittered. I would not have myson uphold the claims of a man who was alike faithless to both enemiesand friends. Then, when Charles was beheaded, could I allow my son tofight under Cromwell?"
"He was a brave, strong man," replied the woman.
"Ay, a brave strong man if you will. But not such a man as my son couldfight under. Besides, I would not have him mingle with such a crew asthis army fashioned under the New Model. Would I have my son become apsalm-singing hypocrite? Would I have him taught to cry 'down with thePrayer Book'? Would I have him made a sour-faced follower of old Nol,learning to make pious speeches in order to gain promotion? No, I hadfought under the king's standard, and, although the king betrayed usall, I would not have my son serve under my Lord Protector.Nevertheless, Roland is no weakling, as you see, neither is he a fool.Poor as I have been, I have seen to it that he hath learned something ofletters. He can write like a clerk, and can read not only in the Englishtongue, but in Latin and in French."
"In French?" said the woman eagerly, I thought.
"Ay, in French. Besides without ever having served with the wars, heknows everything of fighting that I could tell him, and as forswordcraft, I doubt if there is a man in London town who could standagainst him."
Again the woman looked at me eagerly, and then she broke out like one inanger.
"It is well, Master Rashcliffe, for, mark you, if what I have discoveredis true, he will need all his cleverness, all his learning, and all hisknowledge of swordcraft. We play for high stakes, MasterRashcliffe--nothing less than the throne of England."
"Ay, I gathered as much," said my father thoughtfully.
"Look you here," went on the woman. "You desire to gain back yourestates; you desire, moreover, that your son Roland shall not be apenniless, lackland squire like you. Why, I discovered as I came hither,that for years this manor house hath been little better than a farmkitchen, that such as Nicholas Beel, the blacksmith, who fought forCromwell, and 'praise be his name, Elijah of the Marsh,' and'Grace-abounding Reuben,' who used to be one of your hinds, be nowfattening on your best farms."
"Ay, it is so," cried my father angrily. "The very kitchen wenches oftwenty years ago laugh at me, and call me 'Landless Rashcliffe'."
"And Charles Stuart will never give you back these lands unless he ismade," said the woman.
"Ay, ay," said my father, "I know enough of him for that; but to yourtale, Katharine Harcomb. Tell me what you know."
"I know that James, the new king's brother, is full of hope that Charleswill kill himself by revelry in a year," replied the woman. "I know thathe is next heir to the throne. I know that he is intriguing to get backthe Catholic religion to the country, and I know that neither Charlesnor James loves either you or yours."
"And yet I fought for their father," said my father.
"Ay, and like the honest man thou art, declared that thou couldst neverfight for him again after the contents of his papers which were found onNaseby field were made known," retorted the woman. "I know this, too,that if Charles had gained the victory over Cromwell, thou wouldst havebeen beheaded for what thou didst say at that time. Mark you, a Stuartnever forgets, and never forgives, for all the fair promises that theymake. Therefore if ever thou dost get back thine own, and if ever thyson is to be more than a mere yeoman ploughing his own fields--ay, andpoor fields at that, for the best have all been taken away--he must beable to force the new king's hand."
"Ay, I know all this," replied my father impatiently, "but let us hearwhat you have discovered, Katharine; let us know the truth concerningthe strange things I have heard."
"It is no use telling of what I know, unless this son of thine be boldenough to make use of it," replied the woman. "I am a girl no longer,Master Rashcliffe; I am not so simple as I was in those days when I waswaiting maid to Mistress Rashcliffe. Enough to say that I have found outsufficient to make Charles Stuart, who is even now preparing to comeback to England as king, eager not only to restore thy lands, but togive a place of honour to Master Roland here. Ay, but that is not all.The thing which I know to exist must be in our hands, ay, and in ourhands in such a way that we shall be able to make our own bargain withthe new king."
"But what is it?"
"It is this. James, Duke of York, is not the next heir to the throne."
"Well, and what of that?"
"This," replied the woman. "You have heard of the Welsh girl, LucyWalters?"
"Ay, I have hear of her."
"And you have heard of her son, a lad who goes by the name of JamesCroft?"
"Yes," said my father, "I have heard of him; but it doth not matter."
"Ay, but it doth matter."
"Why?"
"Because he, although Charles Stuart will doubtless deny it, is the nextheir to the throne of England."
My father started back in amazement.
"He is Charles' son," continued the woman.
"Ay, but----"
"Charles married Lucy Walters--married her in Holland."
"But the proof, the proof!" cried my father.
"It is this proof of which I come to speak," said Katharine Harcomb."But answer me this: suppose the proof could be obtained, suppose thebox containing the contract of marriage between Charles Stuart and LucyWalters could be obtained--what then?"
For a time my fath
er was silent. Evidently he regarded the woman'sdeclaration of great import, and I saw that he carefully considered herwords.
"Charles would not desire it to be known," he said at length.
"Nay, that he would not," said the woman with a laugh; "but there ismore than that, Master Rashcliffe."
"Ay, there is," said my father thoughtfully. "He who could be fortunateenough to possess that marriage contract would be able to make his termsnot only with the king, but the king's brother."
"Ah, you begin to see."
"The man who possessed such a secret could stir up civil war inEngland," said my father; "such a war that might well make men forgetthe war between Charles I and Cromwell."
"Ay," said the woman; "but what is more to our purpose, MasterRashcliffe, he could make the king restore the Rashcliffe lands, andgain for his son a place in England worthy his name."
"And do others know of this secret, Katharine?" asked my father.
"Yes," replied the woman; "it hath been guessed at by many, but I aloneknow where the box containing the marriage contract is hidden. It hathcost me much trouble to find out, but at last I have done it."
I looked at the woman as she said this, and I thought there was afurtive look in her eyes.
"And how did you find it out?" asked my father presently.
"Of that more anon," replied Katharine Harcomb. "Enough to say now thatthis is the secret I promised to tell you, a secret which should giveyou the power to make your own terms with the king. All now depends onyoung Roland here."
"On me!" I cried, speaking for the first time, although, as may beimagined, I listened eagerly to every word which had been spoken.
"Ay, on you," replied the woman, "for that marriage contract is inhiding. It is hidden in a black box,[1] and may be obtained only withdifficulty. The question is, Master Roland, will you undertake the workof bringing it hither?"
[Footnote 1: As all students of history know, the story of the black boxcontaining the marriage contract between Charles II and Lucy Waltersobtained great credence after the Restoration, indeed, it is probablethat belief in its validity had much to do with the Monmouth rebellionat a later date.--J. H.]
"How old is the king's son?" I cried, for her story had excited myimagination and appealed to that love for adventure which for a longtime had been struggling for expression.
"How old?" repeated the woman; "he is a lad of about eleven years. Atpresent he is with the dowager queen."
"And do you mean that he is the next heir to the English throne?" Icried.
"Ay, that he is," replied the woman; "and the man who can find themarriage contract can go far to be one of the masters of England."
"And if it be not brought to light?" I cried, "then if Charles has noother son, the Duke of York will become king."
"That is not the thing of import," replied the woman; "the thing that isof weight is this: the man who hath the secret can make the king obeyhim."
But this was not the thought which fired my imagination. A greatovermastering desire came into my heart to place my hand upon thismarriage contract that I might be the means of doing justice to theking's disowned son, and even as she spoke I found myself making plansfor going out into the world to unearth this secret. For it must beremembered that I was but a lad of twenty-three, and that up to now, inspite of my many day dreams, I had been kept mewed up in the old manorwith my father, knowing but little of what was going on in the greatworld.
Still, I was not so young but that I saw many difficulties in the way. Ireflected that we had only the word of this Katharine Harcomb, who hadlived at Rashcliffe Manor many years before, and who, according tobelief, had been dead for some time. Where had she been all these years?what were her motives in seeking out this mystery? and more than all,why had she chosen my father and myself as the men to whom she coulddisclose this momentous secret? Not that these matters troubled me much.I was too much excited by the story of the mystery to weigh well thosethings which, had I been ten years older, I should have consideredcarefully. Still, they came into my mind, and I was on the point ofputting them to her, when she rose from her chair and placed her hand onmy shoulder. I remember even then thinking how tall she was, for as Istood by the fireplace, and she came up to me, her face was level withmine, and I am not a short man.
"Roland Rashcliffe," she said, "will you undertake this thing?"
I looked at my father, who appeared to be pondering deeply.
"Where is it?" I asked.
"Where is what?"
"This black box."
"Before I make known where it is I must have your promise. Nay, MasterRoland, look not darkly at me, for this is no light matter. I dare notmake known the hiding place until I am assured that you will undertaketo go wherever it is, and then alone, and in secret, bring it hither."
The words pleased me, although they raised more questions in my mind. Iliked the words "alone and in secret," even although I little understoodwhat they portended.
"How came you to know these things?" I asked.
"I saw the woman called Lucy Walters when she was in England," repliedKatharine Harcomb; "I saw her as she was taken to the Tower."
"You saw Lucy Walters!" I cried.
"Ay, I saw her. No wonder Charles Stuart loved her, for a more beautifulwoman I never set my eyes on. Ay, poor thing, she was neither wise norprudent, as she found out afterwards to her cost, but she was thefairest maid to look upon that ever I clapped my eyes on. It is true herfirst beauty had left her, and at that time she was in sore trouble, forshe was on her way to the Tower with soldiers on either side of her;nevertheless, every man fell in love with her as she went. Theverse-makers have called her the 'nut-brown maid,' and well they might,for her hair was the colour of ripe chestnuts when they are picked fromthe trees in early October. It shone like the dowager queen's diamonds,and hung around her head in great curling locks. Her eyes were browntoo, and sparkled like stars; even then roses were upon her cheeks, andshe walked like a queen."
"But she was liberated from the Tower," said my father, "and went backto France."
"But not before I saw her, Master Rashcliffe," replied KatharineHarcomb, "and not before she told me that she was Charles Stuart'swedded wife."
"She told you that?"
"Ay, she told me that."
"But did she tell you where the marriage contract was?" asked my father.
"Of that I shall say nothing until I know whether Master Roland herewill undertake the work I have spoken of," and again the woman's darkbright eyes scanned my face, as though she saw there an index to thethoughts which possessed my mind.
"Roland," said my father, "I would e'en talk with Katharine Harcombalone. Do you leave the room, and return in an hour's time."
I did not much like this, for, as may be imagined, I was muchinterested, and wanted to hear more of what the woman had to tell; but Iobeyed my father quickly as every dutiful son should, and went out ofthe house into the park lands.
The sun had now gone down, but it was not dark neither did I think itwould be throughout the whole night. For not only was there a moon, butthe sky was clear. Indeed, the time was the middle of May, when the airwas clear and the countryside was beauteous beyond words. It is true theroses had not yet appeared, but the trees were wellnigh in full leaf,for the season was early. Even the oaks and the ashes were covered withspring leaves, which I saw shining in the light of the moon. No starsappeared that night, the moon was so bright, and no sound did I hearsave the babbling of the trout stream that ran through the park, and nowand then the twitter of a bird which settled itself to rest.
I walked along the grass-grown drive which led to the gates, wonderingabout what the woman Katharine Harcomb had said, and thinking if everthe time would come when carriages would be drawn up to the house asthey were in the days before the Long Parliament, and when my old homewould be full of gaiety.
"This is a strange happening," I said to myself. "Ever since RichardCromwell died my father hath spoken of pos
sible change to our fortunesif Charles should come back, not because the king would do aught for usof his own free will, but because we should gain the power to compelhim."
And then as I thought of these things, in spite of the way the woman hadinspired my fancy by the story of the king's marriage, the whole thingbecame like old wives' fables, and I was glad that I had not been led tomake any promises.
I had barely got in sight of the gate where I had seen old Adam in theearlier part of the day, when I heard the sound of footsteps. They werenot the footsteps of a man: of that I was certain. They were neitherfirm enough nor heavy enough. Moreover, they were uncertain, and, as Ithought, feeble. I stopped and looked along the road, and saw the formof a woman coming towards me.
Bright although the moonlight was, I could not at first make out herage or her station, but as she drew nearer I thought that she was oldand poor.
"Whither go you, dame?" I asked as she came up.
"And what is that to you, young master?"
By this time I was able to see that she was bent, and that her clotheswere those of one of low degree. I knew by the way she spoke that shewas toothless, for her words were not clearly spoken.
"It may be much to me, dame," I replied, "but whether it be or no, Iwould warn you against going to the house yonder, for the dogs be letloose of a night, and they would make short work of you."
She mumbled some words which I could not understand; then looking up atme, she said, "And who may you be, young master?"
"I am Master Rashcliffe's son," I replied.
At this she gave a start, and scanned me more eagerly than before.
"Ay, ay, I should a' known," I heard her mumble, "I should a' known, fordid not Katharine tell me?"
At this I was all ears again, and all eyes too for that matter, forevidently she knew something of the woman who was even then at the housetalking with my father.
"Dogs or no dogs, I must e'en go," she said presently.
"Why? is your business of import?" I asked.
"Ay, or I would not have come all the way from St. Paul's Cross toEpping. For that matter I should never have got here did not a mancoming hither give me a lift on his cart. But, young master, tell me.Hath a woman come to your father's house this day?"
"What kind of a woman?" I asked.
"A woman who hath forty-five years, but carries them lightly," shereplied; "a woman who hath not the attire of a woman of quality, and yetspeaketh as if she were; a woman who years ago lived at RashcliffeManor."
"And if such a woman hath been there?" I said.
"Then must I go thither."
"But if she hath been there, and is gone?"
"Then lack-a-day, I know not; ay, but even then I must know what shehath told Master Rashcliffe."
"Come with me," I said; "I will take you to the house."
"But is she there?" she asked eagerly.
"Ay, she is there," I replied.
"Then let us go quickly," and although she still stooped low, she walkedby my side at a good speed.
A little later I led her into my father's hall, wondering at the meaningof what was happening, but little dreaming of what lay before me.