_ CHAPTER XVI. MONTEAGLE AND SALISBURY
Four months passed; months of impatience to the conspirators who awaited with eagerness the hour to strike against the government. Winter and Fawkes had returned from France, their mission in part accomplished, as they had obtained from certain of the Catholic nobility promises of assistance in the way of men and money, did the doors of England open to receive them. The plot to strike at the heart of the ruling powers was slowly maturing; Fawkes, now the leading spirit, worked diligently both with brain and hands to perfect the plan decided upon by Winter, Catesby and the others. Secure in a feeling of strength, the King had little thought that Fate was slowly winding about him and his ministers a shroud which prompt action alone could cast off.
Toward the close of a sultry midsummer day, Lord Cecil, Earl of Salisbury and Prime Minister of England, after holding audience with the King, returned to his dwelling, glad to cast aside his decorations and forget during a few hours the weighty affairs of State. He was scarcely seated, with a glass of wine in hand, when my Lord of Monteagle was announced as waiting in the ante-chamber. 'Twas no strange thing for this nobleman to seek the Minister at his home, for between them there was a warm friendship, and it pleased Cecil to receive the other at any time he chose to visit him. He therefore ordered that Monteagle should be at once conducted to his apartment, and a second glass of wine prepared.
As the peer entered, the keen eyes of his host noted that his bearing betokened a mind ill at ease.
"Faith!" said he, rising from his seat and extending his hand, "thou bearest a most sour visage, my lord. Hath ridden in the sun, or did thy cook forget his occupation and serve thee an ill-prepared repast?"
Monteagle smiled faintly. "Nay," said he, "'tis my mind which is somewhat disturbed."
"Then sit thee down," cried Cecil cheerily, "and unburden thyself to me of all save affairs of State; of them am I exceeding weary, for the King hath a new hobby, a tax on beets and onions, in the discussion of which the afternoon has been consumed."
"Then his Majesty devised another way----" began Monteagle.
Salisbury raised his hand. "'Tis treason," said he in feigned displeasure; "wouldst have us in the Tower, good Monteagle, that thou speak so lightly of James' statesmanship?" Then changing his jesting tone to one of gravity: "But tell me, what troubles thee? Hath the air of France failed to restore the spirits of thy son, Effingston? He hath not returned?"
"He is still in Paris," replied the other, touching his lips to the glass which had been proffered him, "I this day received a letter in which he speaks encouragingly of his health, and announces his return within the month. Thy mind is easy, my lord?"
"And why not?" demanded the Prime Minister, holding aloft his glass that he might watch the reflection of the sun's rays upon the wine. "England is at peace, the King seated firm upon his throne, and the Ship of State rides on an even keel. Hast dreamed of treason, my Lord Monteagle?"
"Perchance not treason," replied his companion, drawing his chair nearer, "but--certain things my son hath written, added to others coming under my own observation, have caused me some uneasiness--a shadowy suspicion, as it were, that an ill plan is brewing against the King's authority."
"Tut!" cried Salisbury. "'Tis a fit of indigestion, about which thou hadst best consult thy doctor. Yet, what be these suspicions?"
"Thou knowest," replied Monteagle, sinking his voice so that it scarce reached the other's ear, "there are certain Catholics among the nobles who chafe grievously under the exactions of laws passed by Parliament and approved by James."
Salisbury shrugged his shoulders. "That is beyond peradventure," said he, "but the laws will stand."
"Of that I would speak nothing," replied Monteagle, "being neither King nor Parliament, but it hath been hinted that perchance the wind of discontent may fan into life a flame of----"
"Thou hast relatives among the Catholics," interrupted Cecil, looking keenly at the other, "hast become a confidant?"
Monteagle shook his head. "Nay," said he, "nor do I desire to mix in affairs concerning my former faith. Yet, I have knowledge of certain meetings which have taken place composed of sundry persons opposed to the policy of James."
"The dogs cut by the lash herd together in their discomfiture," replied Cecil, "yet they fear to bite the hand which stung them."
Monteagle frowned, for the words of the Prime Minister were not to his liking.
"There is more," said he; "certain of those have been seen in France."
"'Tis a most Catholic country," replied Salisbury, "and, perhaps, wishing to worship unmolested before their altars, some have gone thither for their religion's sake."
"My lord!" cried Monteagle, perceiving the Minister was in a mood for jesting, "hast thou had no fear that some hidden danger might lurk beneath the calm exterior of the peace which covers England? Do not smile, but hear me. Thou knowest the Viscount Effingston is in France, at the Court of Henry, and hath mingled much with some who are close to the throne. Perhaps it may not have reached thine ears that some months back a bloodless duel was fought between him and one Sir Thomas Winter, a zealous Catholic and enemy to the King."
"Ah!" broke in Salisbury, "thy speech grows interesting; and what brought about this duel?"
"'Twas an insult cast upon me by this Winter," replied Monteagle. "Effingston chancing to hear, resented it, and an exchange of sword thrusts followed; but that is past. As I told thee this morning I received a letter from Paris in which the Viscount says he hath met this Winter and another, a soldier of the commoners, and----"
"A second duel hath followed?" interrupted the Minister.
"Not so," replied the other, "but being suspicious of the fellows, my son did set a spy upon them, feeling sure that no honest errand took them into France."
"And what did he discover?" asked Salisbury.
"That Winter and his companion sought many times audiences with certain high churchmen known to be enemies of England. Once, he chanced to meet them upon the street, when Winter flushed a scarlet and hastily passed. After this he learned that two Englishmen, one a soldier who had served the King of Spain, gained the ear of certain prelates and noblemen; that their conferences had been conducted with much secrecy, and having finished, the men left Paris in the night, taking poste for Calais."
"And what then?" asked Salisbury, "did thy son learn anything concerning those secret conferences?"
"No way was open to him," answered Monteagle, "but he thought it best to lay the matter before me; the more so that Winter and the other have returned to London."
The Prime Minister pondered for a moment. "Faith! my lord!" said he, "thy zeal for the welfare of the State is most commendable, and the King shall know of it, but thy spirit is overwrought with idle fear. What if certain Catholics in England have sought audience with those of their faith in Paris? Have we then fear of France? My word upon it, good Monteagle, that calm thought will quell thy doubts. Of this Thomas Winter I know something; a reminder of the luckless Essex, a gentleman whose zeal doth warp his reason, and who, should he presume too far, will feel the axe, I warrant. Thou sayest he is again in England; perchance he builds a castle which the sight of a line of soldiers will scatter to the winds. Again I thank thee for thy counsel, my lord, nor will I neglect such matters as pertain to the safety of the King. If it come to thee, that these dissatisfied Catholics grow too bold in speech, for I fear not other signs of treason, lay it before me, that I may stop their tongues, ere evil thoughts be planted in the minds of them who cry 'amen' to any wind of speech delivered in the market place."
Monteagle arose, for he perceived 'twas useless to speak further of ill-defined plots and perchance groundless fears of treason against the King.
"I but considered it my duty as an English gentleman to look to the welfare of----" he began.
"Thou hast my confidence," interrupted Salisbury, "and though I seem to treat lightly thy suspicions they will be most carefully heeded should occasion arise. There be certain chambers in the Tower, where those too zealous in their faith may pass the time in prayer, thanking God the King is merciful, and stays the axe."
Monteagle bowed and left the room. "It may be," he muttered, "that my mind doth dwell too much upon this matter, but I know Sir Thomas Winter well, and there be certain of the Jesuits yet in England." _