_ CHAPTER V. WHY MASTER FAWKES WAS SUMMONED TO ENGLAND
Elinor sat by the fire with a piece of embroidery in her hand. Her thoughts were evidently not upon it, for ever and anon she would lay down the work and sink into deep meditation, which ended in sighs; then, recollecting herself, the busy fingers would once more resume their task. The sound of footsteps echoing in the corridor without, caused her to turn toward the door, through which a man presently entered, who exclaimed in a petulant voice, as he ineffectually endeavored to fasten a sword belt: "Come, my daughter, lay down thy pretty work for a moment, and aid thy father to gird this cursed baldric about him, for the ends be as coy as an old maid and her lover." She arose to comply with his request, and quickly fastened the desired buckle, then inquired, on noting his attire:
"Dost thou go abroad to-night?"
"Verily, I do, if Sir Thomas doth keep his appointment. 'Tis past the hour of nine, and much I marvel that he hath not yet arrived."
"Then I will now bid thee good night," she answered, approaching and about to kiss him, when hearing one coming up the steps caused her to delay.
"There, by St. Paul, he is at last," as a knock sounded on the door. "Run, my daughter, and open to Sir Thomas."
The girl hesitated a moment as if loth to comply, then stepped into the hall and withdrew the bolt. Soon the tones of a man's voice could be heard exclaiming: "A good evening to thee, Mistress Elinor. It is but fitting that an angel should unbar the door of Paradise, for I deem the house naught else wherein thou dwellest." Kissing the reluctant hand which he held, then observing Fawkes, who had advanced to greet him, "Well, well, friend Guido; thou lookest fit for a battle royal, with thy long war rapier girded by thy side. But," he continued with a laugh, "it would ill become thee to go abroad poorly armed in my company, for we do in truth seem to invite attack when together. Did thy father tell thee, Mistress Elinor, of his adventure yester-night, which had for its intent the rescuing me again from dire straits?"
"Nay, he did not; for my father's brave deeds need not his tongue to set them forth, and he is much too modest to narrate his exploits, even though they had so worthy an object as the saving of thy life," she replied with a little courtesy.
"Marry," broke in Fawkes, "I was marveling why thou didst not come, and was thinking perchance 'twould be better to go outside and listen for the sound of a distant brawl." Then observing the small court sword which hung by the other's side, he continued, pointing toward it: "Thou art but lightly equipped. I wonder much that thou dost go so poorly prepared; but," he added, loosening his long rapier from its scabbard, "thy purse is safe to-night at least. Wilt come for a moment to the fire, and warm thyself?"
"I cannot, though much I regret that precious time forbids; if thou art ready, methinks we had best depart."
"I am ever at thy service," cried Fawkes, and turning towards his daughter, who had thrown a long cloak over his shoulders, "I'll wish thee a good repose, sweet one, for 'twill be late ere I return." Embracing her, then going toward Winter, he continued: "'Tis most pleasing to have a pretty face on which to kiss a sad good-bye, and know that loving arms await to greet a happy return."
"Aye, that it is," he responded, biting his lip and watching the two; "but we poor single men have no such bliss, and must be content to watch the happiness of others. Still, there is left me the sweet sorrow of saying good night." He extended his hand to the girl, who let hers rest for an instant within his. "Now, if thou art ready, Master Fawkes, I will follow."
The two passed out into the night, both turning, however, when half way down the path to wave a parting adieu to the fair figure standing within the door. For some little distance the men continued on in silence, each engrossed in thought. At length, Winter observing that Fawkes seemed well aware as to the direction they were taking, exclaimed with some little surprise: "Master Guido, one would think the way to my residence an old traveled road to thee, but if I recollect aright, this to my knowledge is the first time thou hast gone over it."
"Marry, but I have a guide, Sir Thomas," pointing to the dome of St. Paul's church, which reared itself dark against the star-studded sky.
"Beshrew my heart, doth some angel of heaven fly before thee?" as just at the moment Fawkes turned sharply down another street leading to their destination.
"Nay, I have not that to point the way, but a friend of thine gave me the direction. I did not think to tell thee the first night of our meeting, for we had other matters of more pointed nature to engross our thoughts," he added with a laugh, striking his sword; "and it did slip my tardy mind that I was the bearer of a message from him to thee."
"I can but illy guess who he may be; but, pray, say on, by what name went he?"
"Giles Martin; and he did wish I would convey his best respects and wishes for thy good welfare."
"By St. Peter! Where didst thou run across the man? I had deemed him long dead, for naught have I seen of him these many years."
"The truth is, Sir Winter, he wished no mention made of his present whereabouts; but I deemed thou hadst a sturdy friend in him, and," continued Fawkes, looking at the other significantly, "he did seem well informed on divers topics concerning these troubled times."
"What dost thou mean, friend Guido?" asked Winter, turning a quick glance toward Fawkes.
"I am but a plain man, and thy outspoken question invites little but a plain reply. Therefore, I'll repeat his words, which were that thou didst stand poorly with those in high places, and, further, the times were such that hot outspoken opinions on certain subjects were apt to be quickly followed by the whistle of an axe flying through the air, and that the King----"
"A truce," Winter broke in, laying his hand upon the other's arm and looking behind with some alarm as the two entered a thoroughfare, which, by the number of people passing up and down, indicated their approach to a central portion of the city; "by holy St. Dunstan, frame not thy speech in such loud words, for it might be illy construed. But here we are at our destination, and when within, thou mayst recite all that Master Martin told."
The two paused in front of an iron railing surrounding a court-yard, on which fronted a residence of no mean pretensions. After unlocking the wicket, Winter, followed by his companion, proceeded up the walk, and passing through the main doorway, entered the house.
"This is the first time, Fawkes, that I've had the honored pleasure of thy company at mine own fireside," exclaimed Winter, when inside, throwing his fur-lined coat upon a chair. Then observing that his companion was already busily engaged in examining a trophy of swords which decorated the wall, he continued: "What, do thy warlike eyes ever seek the implements of thy trade? See, Guido, there is a suit of mail that a valiant ancestor of mine did wear at Crecy," pointing toward a stand of armor.
"Indeed," answered the other, examining it, "he must of necessity have been brave, for, I can but illy see how running could be done, even if the spirit prompted the legs, attired in this heavy harness."
"And now, if thou be ready," exclaimed Winter, evidently anxious to arrive quickly at the task of the evening, "I will conduct thee to a chamber wherein we may hold converse without fear of interruption."
The two proceeded, Winter leading the way to the end of the hall, and passing through a heavy open door, which closed behind them, entered a room well adapted to the discussion of such things as must not fall on untrusted ears. The chamber was one of spacious proportion, but on account of its massive black furniture, seemed to be of medium size. The walls were hung in some dark, unfigured tapestry, which added to the somberness of the apartment, and tended to spread over all an air of gloom. The dimness of the place was in some degree relieved by a crackling fire burning upon the hearth, and two silver candelabrums holding lighted tapers, stood upon an oaken table occupying the middle of the room.
The only window in the place opened down to the floor, leading out upon a balcony overlooking the court-yard, and the interior of the chamber was hidden from those passing by heavy curtains, which now were closely drawn. A divan, several massive black oak cabinets, and three or four high-back chairs completed the furniture of the room, with the exception of a small table, on which stood a large and curiously wrought silver flagon and several tankards.
"Come Master Guy," cried Winter, filling two of the cups, "let us preface dry work with a drink of honest vintage, and then we will to our task."
"With all my heart," replied Fawkes, taking the cup and draining it at a draught.
"And now to business," exclaimed the other, seating himself by the table and motioning his companion to a place opposite. Having settled himself easily in the chair, shading his face from the light of the tapers that he might better watch the countenance of the other, he began in a quiet voice:
"I doubt not but thou didst deem it passing strange I made no reference to the nature of the employment I had to offer thee, and, mayhap," he continued, holding up his hand to silence an interruption from his listener, "there hath arisen in thy mind suspicious thoughts caused by a combination of incidents since thy arrival, which would place me as one with whom to be identified were not as safe as serving in the King's Guard. In point of fact, I refer particularly to the outspoken words of our friend Giles Martin."
"In truth," responded the other, in that quick, brusque manner belonging to his nature, "Master Martin did lay naught at thy door, but what I, or any other righteous man, might deem an honor to a house. Nay," he continued, with some vehemence, "if what he said be true, then I am overjoyed to find employment with one whose faith is his greatest crime."
"What may be the purport of thy words?" inquired Winter, slowly turning a keen glance upon the speaker.
"I mean," exclaimed Fawkes, leaning over the table toward his questioner, "that I would think it no disgrace to serve, or, if need be, fall by the side of one who had the courage to openly or secretly espouse the Catholic cause in these cross-breaking days. Aye, Sir Thomas, I will speak without concealment, for I have guessed at many things, and know full well that the time must soon be ripe when all who have not craven hearts will arise in wrath, and by word of mouth, of mayhap, if need be, by a more violent measure put down those who advise the enactment of laws which have for their intent the uprooting of the Church in this our Kingdom."
"By St. Michael!" exclaimed Winter, surprised that the other should bring to the front so clearly his opinion on a subject upon which, he had feared, it would require no small amount of questioning to elicit anything, "thou dost astonish me with thine ardor; I always knew thee as a brave churchman, but never----"
"Time hath altered my views on many subjects," interrupted Fawkes. "The manners of the Spaniard are not always good, and their breath is oft odorous of garlic; but by my troth, they know full well how to treat a heretic," he added with a decisive nod of his head. "Say on, for by thy manner I judge it is thine object to sound my depth in certain matters. I know not what's afoot; but by St. Peter," continued he, striking the table a blow which made the tapers dance, "if it hath aught to do with those--even though they be kings--whose unholy hands would snuff our altar lights, thou canst count on Master Guy to twist the rack or carry faggots."
During this recital Winter watched the other with keen attention. Knowing Fawkes to be a man of indomitable will, combined with undaunted courage, and one to stop at nothing in gaining ends justified by his conscience, he had not hesitated to recommend him as a valuable adjunct to the cause dear to himself and his companions. Heavily the weight of responsibility rested upon him; it had fallen to his lot that he should be the one to sound this man, and decide as to how great or small a degree of their confidence might be given to him. One error in judgment now might be followed by the death of all their hopes, and by the thud of heads dropping into the axman's basket. Therefore he weighed the matter well before saying:
"I did not over-estimate thy zeal. There are many things I would fain tell thee, the purport of which methinks thou hast already guessed, but which at present must not, for reasons, be spoken of. If thou art willing for a time to remain in darkness, and take service as a gentleman about my household, I can almost promise that the gloom of thy ignorance on many matters may soon be dispelled by a lurid glare which shall be red enough, even to thy liking. I have told thee naught, but the very concealment of some things, to the observing, doth show plainly what is hid. Ask no more, and, for the present, content thyself with suppositions. If the conditions which I have named suit thee, then thou wilt have access to these premises at all times. Further, be my companion when I go abroad; for what is more natural in these purse-cutting days than that a gentleman should desire a lusty swordsman with him? Dost accept, and agree to all?" The last word he pronounced with great emphasis.
"Aye, to all," responded the other grimly, arising and extending his gauntlet.
"And I would further recommend," continued Winter, drumming on the table with his fingers, "that thou say but little about this meeting, even," looking narrowly at Fawkes, "to thy pretty daughter; for I have remarked there is sometimes a certain visitor at thy house who, if the report did reach his ears that two or three gentlemen of the Catholic persuasion were closeted together, might denounce the assembling as a conspiracy,--which would be most unjust--and bring the King's Guard with small courtesy. Dost follow me, friend Guido?"
"That I do; but there's naught to fear; I know your meaning. Heretics will no more darken my door."
"That is well, and I hope, truly spoken," replied Winter, nodding his head in approval, and rising from his chair with an air of relief that the business of the evening was settled. "Let us," he continued, filling up the cups, "drink success to our compact."
"Ah!" cried Fawkes, pointing to the wine as it flowed from the flagon's mouth, "A most fitting color be the draught;" then, as he raised the tankard to his lips, "A toast, Sir Thomas, I will offer thee. May we be as willing to give our blood when asked, as this good flagon to yield its red cheer to us! And now I must set out for home, and 'tis with a lighter heart than when I came. Dost thou wish my presence here to-morrow?" he inquired as they reached the door.
"Thou mayst call on the stroke of ten, or thereabouts. Until then, farewell."
The host watched the form of his guest disappear in the darkness, and shutting the door, returned with a thoughtful step to the chamber wherein they had been sitting. Filling a cup with wine and raising it on high, he exclaimed with a laugh: "Troth, Master Fawkes, I did drink to thy health awhile ago; now I will quaff a flagon to thy daughter. Here is to one, Mistress Elinor, the fairest, the sweetest wench in all England, and for one warm kiss from whose lips Sir Thomas Winter would right gladly face grim death. Marry," he mused, setting down the cup, "thou hast done, mayhap, a good stroke for the cause, in bringing this bloodhound Fawkes from out of Spain, but young Monteagle, beware; for if I be judge, the Spanish treatment of a heretic leaves but little for the burial." _