"Now, cry you mercy, Mr. Denis!" said Idonia, "for indeed I guessed not that affairs of trade were to be in debate between us."
But so confused as I was by her laughter, I could neither deny nor confirm that saying, but stood before her very hot in the face and, I make no question, as sour to look upon as she was merry to see me so.
"I had thought you had forced your way hither," she continued, setting her head a little aside, "in order to rid me of such dangers as might beset me here, albeit I know of none."
"And knew you of any," said I, pretty desperate by this, "my sword should make it none, if you would."
Perhaps it was the bitter tone I used, or the knowledge that I spoke not in mere idle boastfulness; but upon the sudden her manner changed wholly and she was pleading with me in so tender and deep a voice as it thrilled me through to hear it.
"Ah, Mr. Denis," said she, coming close and laying her hand on my arm, "we be friends surely, or if we be not, I know not where I am to seek for a friend as true hearted, nor one that would venture as far to aid me. I meant no harm, indeed I did not, though my tongue played my meaning false, as it doth, alas! too often. If I laughed, 'twas to fend off weeping, for once I fall to that, I know not when I should be done."
"Yet you said you had no especial trouble," I returned.
"Nay, if I did, I lied," said Idonia, "for I am beset with troubles here."
"I thought no less," said I, "and 'twas for that very reason, and in despite of your refusal to admit me awhile since, that I sought out other ways to come to you."
She smiled when she heard this honest confession. "So much trade as that comes to, Mr. Denis, will hardly satisfy your father's debts, I think."
"I gave myself this one day more," I told her, "but to-morrow I must necessarily seek employment, though the doing of it I can scarce abide to think of."
"Having but an half-handful of shillings," said she, "poor lad! there seemeth nought else to do, unless indeed you steal."
"Steal!" cried I.
"And wherefore not?" said Idonia, with a little hard laugh, "seeing we all do worse than steal here, or if we do not all so, yet do we stand by permissively while others do. Oh, sir," she cried, "I warned you this very morning I was not worth your thought of me, and 'twas truth, or less than the truth, I told, who live amongst evil folk in this place and secret men that whisper as they come and go."
She hid her face in her hands so overcome was she by the horror she had waked, and how to comfort her I knew not.
"Of what quality be these men you speak of?" I demanded, thinking perhaps they were the thieves beyond the partition wall, who overran into this place too. "I will lay information against them, before the magistrate if you will."
Idonia looked at me with a sort of wonder.
"But you know them not," said she, "nor where they bide, when they leave us."
"Is it not yonder then?" I asked her, and pointed to the little door aloft in the wall.
"They—poor folk!" she cried. "A pitiful lean company; would they were no worse I ope the gate to! ... If you had known, when you would have had me admit you, Mr. Denis.... But they be gone for this while ... oh, I fear them!" said she, and fell again to weeping.
'Twas evident she dared not be open with me as touching the business nor estate of those she consorted with, nor, I found, dared give over this life she led amongst them, for all the fear and horror she had of it. So, notwithstanding I returned again and again to the question, she put me off with a manifest dismay.
"No, no," she would cry. "Even so much as I have already let fall is haply more than wise for me to speak and you to hear. But now," in conclusion she said, "let us return to your own affairs, in the which it may chance I may assist you."
She conceived from the first an infinite admiration of my father, bidding me tell over again the tale of his renouncing all his wealth in order to the ending his brother's supposed confinement, as well as to pay that added debt which I had so foolishly incurred. Idonia drew in her breath sharply when I had done, and then looking me full in the face, said—
"Whatever may befall you to do, Mr. Denis, 'twill be less than he hath the right to exact of you; although I believe that the least you will do he will give you thanks for it."
'Twas my father's nature just, and none could have bettered the character.
"What can you do?" she demanded briefly, and bade me sit (for we had both stood this while); she sitting too, on a bundle of folded sails that lay by the wall.
I hesitated to reply, for leaving the few scraps of Latin and logick that Master Jordan had been at such pains to drive into me and I had as easy let slip again, my studies had been woefully neglected, or rather I had profited by them so little, that there was nothing I knew anyways whole. I stammered out at last that what I could do, I doubted would scarce earn me a scavenger's wages, and looked (I suppose) so glum, that Idonia laughed outright.
"Come, there be books of account," said she, "can you not make shift to cast moneys in figure?"
I told her I thought I might compass that if I were given time enough; though for that matter I did not see how I was like greatly to profit the merchant that should employ me.
But without replying by so much as a word, Idonia went over to an oaken press by the stair, presently returning with a soiled leathern volume clasped with a deal of brass and so heavy as to be hardly portable. This she set open before me saying it was a record of trade done, and had belonged to one Mr. Enos Procter, whom she knew, and bade me read in it.
"Lord!" said I, very grave, for I had never seen so intricate and mysterious a labyrinth of words and cyphers as she then discovered. "If Dives the rich man got his wealth that way, I suppose his life to have been something less easy than our divines would have us believe."
"It is a ledger-book," said Idonia.
"Let it be what it will," said I, "it is more than I bargained for."
"Nay, but observe this superscription," she went on, eagerly, "where it commenceth as is customary: Laus Deo in London, and so following." She ran her finger along the line commenting with a facility that astonished me. "This is the accompt of one Mendoza, as you see, a wool-stapler of Antwerp, and as the Jews ever be, a punctual man of his money. Look you, now, how differently this other sets to work, Jacob Hornebolt of Amsterdam, and with what gross irregularity he transmitteth his bills of exchange ... nay, here, I mean, upon the Creditor side," cried she, for my eyes ran hither and thither, up and down the page, like any Jack-apparitor, in quest of her accursed Dutch Jacob and his pestilent bills.
"Oh, a truce to this," quoth I, "or else turn o'er to a page where a man's doings be set down in fair Queen's English, and not in such crabbed and alchemist terms as one must have gone to school to the Black Witch that should understand 'em. You point me here and you point me there, and there's Creditor this and Debitor that, with an whole history between them, good lack! mistress, but it makes my head reel to hear tell of."
"I had thought you understood me," said she very simply.
"Then 'tis time you understood I did not," said I, roundly, "and what's more I think you should not neither. It is not maidenly reading;" and indeed I was staggered that so much of a man's actions should lie open to any girl's eye that had the trick of cyphers, to peruse them.
Idonia lifted her eyebrows pretty high, hearing me speak so, but presently shut up the book, and putting it by, said a little wearily—
"I had meant to help you, Denis, but you are over-dull, I find; or if you be apt 'tis not in learning. Some lads there be think to get a living other ways, though other ways I know not to be so honest, though haply as easy."
'Twas on my tongue to retort upon her with a speech in the same kind, but I had to confess I could not frame one half so wittily, and therefore said very tragical—
"I stay not where I am not welcome," and taking up my cap, bowed very low to Idonia, who for her part, paid no heed to me, and although I halted once or twice on my way to the door, stood averse from me, as being careless whether I stayed or went.
"I am not reckoned over-dull at sword play," I muttered, when I had got as far as I could, without departing altogether.
"Oh, if you think to fence for a living, sir," said Idonia, over her shoulder, "I pity your father."
"He needs none of your pity, mistress," cried I.
"I know not where better to bestow it," she replied, "unless it be upon a boy with twelve shillings and no wit to add to them."
Now, how one I had so handsomely benefited could yet run into this excess of obstinacy as she did, I stood astonished to consider, and in my heart called her a thankless wench, and myself a preposterous ass to remain there any longer. Notwithstanding had I had the sense to read the account between us whole, I doubt Mistress Avenon owed not a whit more to me than I to her; although in my resentment she seemed then a very Jacob Hornebolt, and as gross a defaulter upon the balance as that dilatory Hollander.
"Then I leave you to better companionship," said I, having run my length, "and to such as have at the least the wit to please you, which I have not, all done."
What she would have said to that I cannot guess, for before she could speak there came a thundering rattle at the door and a voice calling upon her to open in the Queen's name.
"Dear God!" whispered the girl. "'Tis the soldiers come," and stood facing me, distraught and quaking.
"Is it you they seek?" I asked, quick, but could not hear what she answered me, for the knocking drowned all.
"Up the ladder," I bade her. "Go, and draw it after. I will abide the event."
'Twas this advice steadied her, although she refused it. Instead, she shook off my hand that would have led her, and going to the ladder by which I had descended, drew it away from the trap in the wall and laid it along the floor.
"They would but use the same means to follow me," she said, and so without more ado went to the door and opened it. A score of halberdiers burst into the hall.
"What is your will, masters?" demanded Idonia; and her pride I had before denounced I found commendable enough, now she directed it against these intruders.
One that seemed to be their Captain stepped forth, and having slightly saluted her with a hand to his morion, turned leisurely to his following, and bade them shut the gate; which done, he posted them, some before the ways accessible to the hall, and the rest under a sergeant, in the rooms above it, that he commanded them strictly to scrutinize. The soldiers had no sooner obeyed him than he drew forth a paper largely sealed, which he told us, with a great air, was Her Grace's commission and gave warrant to search this messuage of Petty Wales for any such as might seem to be obnoxious to the Queen's peace, there harbouring.
The Captain was a tall, ill-favoured youth, of a behaviour quite lacking of courtesy, yet well enough matched to the task he had in hand; for he spoke in a slow and overbearing voice that betokened as much doubt of another's honesty, as satisfaction for the power given him to apprehend all that should withstand him. Idonia and I stood some distance apart, and after a swift glance at me, the Captain addressed himself to the girl solely, and with so evident a mistrust of her, as it maddened me to hear him.
"Your name, mistress?" said the Captain.
"Idonia Avenon," she replied carelessly, though I could not but grieve to note how pale she continued.
"And your father, he lives here with you?"
"He is dead," said she.
"Who inhabits here, then, besides yourself?"
"A many," replied Idonia, "though I have not their names."
The Captain turned aside to his lieutenant with some whispered word of offence that made the fellow smile broadly; and at that I could no further refrain myself.
"Stay within the limits of your commission, sir," said I hotly, "and keep your jests for other seasons."
He troubled not so much as to turn his head my way, but took up his examination of Idonia again.
"Nor you know not their trades either, I suppose?" said he with a sneer.
"Saving this man's here present," replied the girl, "who keeps the books of accompt in a great merchant's counting-house."
You may judge whether I gasped at that, or no; and perhaps the Captain noted my alarm, for he inquired at once who the merchant might be I served.
"'Tis Mr. Edward Osborne," said Idonia, "unless I mistake."
"It is," said I, and remembering Mr. Nelson's words, added boldly that he was Governor of the Turkey Company; but inwardly I said, "Whither doth this lying tend?"
"And what purposeth he in this house?" demanded the soldier, somewhat taken aback by our credible answers.
"What, but to learn me in the keeping of accompts?" replied she.
"Ah, an apt scholar, I doubt not," cried the other, raising his chin insolently.
"I think I am not so backward for a maid," said Idonia modestly, and reached forth her hand to the great ledger-book I had so maligned; the which I now saw turned to an engine of our salvation; for opening it at the former place she continued:
"He instructs me that herein is set down the merchant's commerce with one Mendoza, a wool-stapler of Antwerp, and a Jew, who despite the scandal of his unbelief, is, as appeareth plainly, an honest man. I pray you, sir, follow me," said she, and directed him to the page, "to the end you may correct me if I be in error."
I never saw a man's countenance fall so as the Captain's did then; who having formerly stood so stiff upon his right, was now ready to compound upon almost any terms; only Idonia would not, but interrupted his pish's, and his well-well's, and go-to's, with a clear exposition of the whole matter of wool, the while I, her supposed tutor, stood by with open mouth and a heart charged with admiration of her wit.
"Enough," shouted the Captain, at last. "I came not hither for this, as you know, mistress, who are either the completest accountant or else the prettiest wanton this side Bridewell Dock. Halberdiers, have a care!" cried he, and so returning to them with a curse, marshalled them into a body and would have withdrawn them forthwith, when a cry from one of the chambers aloft suddenly sounding out, he ordered them again to stand to their arms and ran forward to the foot of the stairs. I chanced to look at Idonia then, and blessed Heaven that her examination was done, and all eyes save mine averted from her, for she shook like one in a palsy and staggered backward to the wall. I had bare leisure to follow her thither and support her, before the whole troop of those that had gone above returned down, bearing along with them in their midst a man whom they held, or rather dragged along with them, so without strength was he, and all aghast.
"A good capture," said the Captain in his slow, cruel voice, and bade the guard stand back from the abject fellow, but be ready to prevent his escape. "I thought not to have had so fair a fortune," said he, "although our information was exact enough that you lay here, Master Jesuit, whom I believe to be (and require you to answer to it) that notorious Jacques de Courcy, by some called Father Jacques, a Frenchman and plotting Jesuit."
"I am a poor schoolmaster of Norfolk," said the man, very humbly.
"Do you deny you are this Courcy, and a devilish Papist?" asked the Captain again.
The prisoner looked around wildly, as if he hoped even now to get free, but the ring about him was too close for that, and the pikes all levelled at his breast. Something of the dignity which despair will throw over a man that hath come into the extreme of peril, sustained him mercifully then, so that he who was before but a pitiful shrinking coward, became (and so remained to the end) a figure not all unmeet to the part he played.
"Were I to recite my creed," said he very low, "you would but make mock of it; while for yourself, I see you be already minded to work your will upon me."
"We go no further than our Prince commands us," said the other loftily.
"And I, no further than my Prince hath enjoined long since," said the Jesuit.
"Pish! words!" replied the Captain. "Do you still persist in denying that you are Jacques de Courcy?"
But the prisoner stood silent. Then one of the soldiers that stood behind him went forward and took him something roughly by the collar, bidding him answer; but the Jesuit turning about to see who it was detained him thus, his coat burst open, and we saw he wore a little leaden crucifix about his neck. A shout of laughter greeted the discovery. "To the Tower with him, march!" cried the Captain. But ere they could seize the man he had leapt forward upon the pikes, and by main force taking one of the pike-heads into his two hands he thrust it deep under his shoulder.
After that I thank Heaven that I saw no more, for Idonia swooned away, and I almost, in horror of that poor hunted man's death. The halberdiers bore the body off with them, nor paid the least regard to us twain, but left us where we were, Idonia prone upon the cold flags of the hall, and me above her, tending her.
Take a town for all in all, in its sadness and pleasure, the shows that pass through it, the proclamations of kings, the tolling of the great bell, marshallings of men-at-arms and sermons of clerks; whatever it be distracts or engages it, I say you will find, take all in all, full the ten twelfths of a town's business to lie in the mere getting of wealth.
And in the exercise of this its proper office, I think that government, whether good or bad, interfereth less than is supposed; for at the best, that is, when the merchants and retailers be let alone (as would to Heaven some great Councillors I could name did understand the matter so), 'tis then that the interchange of goods and money is most readily and happily effected; but at the worst, that is, when some untoward imposition or restriction is laid upon the trade of a city, it results not that men labour any the less at their buying and selling, but that their lawful and expected profits be diverted, in part, into other men's pockets. Which for all it is wrong enough, yet it makes not, I am bold to say, one single vessel to go lacking her cargo, nor one merchant to break upon Change. So a fig for Westminster! this way or that, trade holds; and men bend their thoughts thereto, howe'er the wind blow.
Now, I am no philosopher (my father having exhausted the philosophy of our family), yet no man may live in London (as I had now done, for above three months) but certain considerations must needs thrust themselves upon him, and though he be no great thinker I suppose that everybody knows when he is hungry; and being so, goes the best way he can to remedy that daily disease.
And so it came to pass that, greatly as I detested to confine myself to the weary commerce of trade, I nevertheless did so, and for the plain reason that I could not help myself, having no money left, and not being willing to remain any longer with the good folk on the Bridge, at their charges. How I was received by Mr. Edward Osborne into his counting-house I will tell later, but received I was, and there strove to acquit myself honestly, so that within about a month (I think) I could cast up the moneys of his great Day Book with but a two-three errors to each sum total; the which, considering my inexperience, I held to be not amiss.
It was while I was thus employed in the narrow wainscoted business room where Mr. Osborne did the most of his business, in Chequer Lane off Dowgate, it was then, I say, that I came to perceive the magnitude and staggering quality of the City's negotiation and traffick; so that I came near to rehearsing the Bridge warden's eulogy upon the London merchants, as also his expressed contempt for all such dignities as did not issue from the fount of trade. Nay, I went further, for neglecting the current rumours and plain news even, that all stood not well with the State, I applied myself to my accompts and disbursements, deriding Mr. Secretary Cecil and the Queen's Council for a parcel of busybodies, and reducing the policy of England to the compass of a balance sheet.
And yet, had I had the wit to know it, we were at that season come into a crisis where bills of lading availed little, and the petty laws of invection and navigation seemed like to be rudely set aside for the sterner laws of conquest and foreign tyranny. Already, even, and before I had left the Combe, there had been that business of the signing of the National Bond and the imprisoning of many that favoured the overthrow of Her Majesty; the which had been followed and confirmed by such other acts and precautions as imported no easy continuance in our old way, but rather the sure entering into that narrow passage and race of fortune, whence the outlet is to so infinite and clouded a sea, as a people's help therein lieth solely in God and their own clear courage. Queen Mary of Scotland was yet alive, poor scheming desperate woman! and lay a guarded danger in the land. The Dutch States, moreover, that ought to have been our firm ally, we had done our best to alienate and set at variance against us, who should have helped them at all adventures; we being of one Faith together, and hating alike the encroaching cruelties of Spain. To these considerations there was added the fear of treason in our midst, and the increasing evidence of the Jesuits' part therein, which the Queen's advisers sought upon all occasions to discover and trample out; as indeed I had myself been witness to, in that unhappy self-murder of Jacques de Courcy in the secret dark mansion of Petty Wales.
It had been a little subsequent upon that dreadful affair, and when the soldiers had left us, that I said to Idonia—
"In Heaven's name, mistress, what is this house used for then?" For I was all wan and trembling with that sight of sudden death, else I should not have spoken so harshly to the girl, who was in like case with myself, and clung to me piteously for comfort. But at my words she seemed to recover herself, and loosing her arms from my neck, she cried—
"And what have I to do with other men's takings, that you question me thus? If aught displease you, so! I cannot better it. And ... and ... oh, Mr. Denis, what a face of pity did he show!"—she covered her eyes as she spoke—"and when he fell ... Oh, these things are not rightly done; they stifle me. They wrench my faith. They leave out God."
I did what I could, but it was with her own strength she must fight down the terror, I knew, and so after awhile desisted. When she had her full reason again she thanked me that I had not confused her with many words.
"For I know not to what excess I should have run otherwise," she said. "You have a quiet spirit, and are no talker, Master Denis. But there be some things I cannot bear to see, and one is the sight of a single man, even a malefactor, so overcome and brought to his death.... But now," assuming a resolute cheerfulness she added, "now we must converse awhile upon your own affairs, before you go. For look you, sir, I have named you already of Mr. Osborne's service, and must make it good. Else that stark-limbed Captain may hear of it, and discovering we lied, make us smart for it."
"But how shall I prevail with Mr. Osborne to take me into his service," said I, "who know not an invoice from a State paper?"
"Everything hath a beginning," replied Idonia, "and if Rome was not builded in a day, it is not likely we shall make an accountant of you presently."
"No, nor in less time than it took to build Rome in, I doubt," quoth I, pretty rueful. "But tell me how came yourself to be so proficient in that study of cyphering?" For indeed the thought had puzzled me not a little.
"By the good offices of one I purpose shall now assist you," said Idonia; and told me that it was a certain scrivener named Enos Procter that had lived a great while in Genoa, where they greatly affect the putting of their negotiations into ledger-books and have well-nigh perfected that invention.
"This Procter returning home after many years," she proceeded, "suffered shipwreck, and was cast away upon the coast of Spain, whence he was fortunate to escape half dead, and with the loss of all his goods, saving only that monstrous ledger-book, which he would by no means relinquish. He then coming to land here, at the Galley Quay, besought us to harbour him and give him food and dry clothing, for which he offered to pay us out of his wages when he was able. This we did, and he, being a man of his word, repaid all that he owed, and more, for he taught me something of his reckoning in cypher, and of the distributing of every item of receipt or payment, this side and that of an accompt, according to the practice of the great merchants of Genoa."
And thus it came about that the day following Idonia did as she had promised, and wrought so with Mr. Enos Procter that I was immediately taken into his employment upon my faithful promise to serve the lawful occasions of the Governor and Merchants of the Turkey Company, and (implicitly) those of Mr. Enos Procter, their principal clerk and accountant.
With this worthy gentleman I spent, as was natural, the greatest part of my time, and under his dark sidelong eye I managed my untrained quill. He was a spare small man of an indomitable quick-silver nature, that by long sojourning in the South, had become half Italian. When he worked (which was always) he had a habit of warping his face into the most diabolical grin, while he rolled upon his stool, back and forward, with the motion of one rowing in a boat, muttering of a thousand foreign curses with which was oddly mingled the recital of the particular matter he had in hand. Thus, "Corpo di Baccho," would he cry, "these bills mature not until the fifteenth day of June, and there is scarce ... a million devils! Master Cleeve, had I formed my sevens that gait in Genoa I had been sent to the galleys for a felon.... Of Cartagena, say you? There be none but knaves there, and none but fools to trust them. 'Tis an overdue reckoning, with thirty-five, forty, forty-five thousand ducats, eh! forty-six thousand, Signor, Don Cherubin of Cartagena, whom the Devil disport!"
But whatever the frailties of Mr. Procter, he was a kind and forbearing tutor, and even succeeded in imparting to me also some portion of his own extravagant affection for his great leather-bound books of account; for he loved them so, as no man ever perceived more delicate beauties in his mistress than this fever-hot scrivener did in the nice adjustment of Debit to Credit; with all the entries, cross entries, postings and balancings (to use his own crabbed language) that went to it. He was, in sooth, a very Clerk-Errant, that ran up and down a paper world, detecting errors, righting wrongs, spitting some miscreant discount on his lance of goose-quill, or tearing the cloak from some dubious monster of exchange. I could not but admire him, and the way in which he regarded all things as mere matter for bookkeeping.
"They talk of their philosophies," he would say, "but what do they come to more than this, and what ethick goes beyond this: that every right hath a duty corresponding, and every fault its due reward? Ay, is it so? and what do we poor scribes, but set down each accident of our trading first on the left side and after on the right side, the one to countervail the other, and all at the end to appear justly suspended in the balance? We have no preferences, we accountants, we neither applaud nor condemn, but evenly, and with a cold impartiality, set down our good and bad, our profits and losses, our receipts and disbursements, first as they affect ourselves and our honourable Company, and after as they affect our neighbour. For consider," he would proceed, leaping about on his stool, with the excitement that a defence of his art always engendered, "consider this very item of the silk bales, upon which my pen chances at this moment to rest—you have it here to the credit of Mr. Andrea of Naples, seventy-nine pounds in his tale of goods sold to this house. But is the matter so disposed of? I trow not. For turn me to the accompt of goods purchased during this year of our Redemption, and what have you? Seventy-nine pounds upon the debtor. Philosophy, boy! There is nought beyond that, I say, nor, for conciseness of statement, aught to equal it. Mr. Andrea's rights become, transposed, our duties; and for the silk bales you wot of, they be a load of debt to us, to account for to our masters, and likewise a strengthening of the credit of this honest Neapolitan as any man may read.
"Notwithstanding, there be some," said he in conclusion, with a sigh, "and they divines of the Church, that call in question the avarice and hard-dealing of us that live by barter and the negotiation of merchandize! Yet where will you find (to ask but this one question, Mr. Denis), where do you find written more clearly than in these ledger-books of ours, that oft-disguised truth that what we own we do also and necessarily owe?"
In such mingling of high discourse and plain work, then, I continued with Mr. Procter a great while, in the dusty and ill-lighted counting-house in Chequer Lane; earning my small wages, and upon the whole not ill content with the changed life I now led, for all 'twas so far removed from the course I had planned, now many months past, but had already half forgotten. Sometimes my duties would take me to the wharves where a great barque or brigantine would be lying, about to leave upon our Company's business for Turkey or Barbary; or else some other vessel would be returning thence to London Pool, whither I repaired to the captain and supercargo to receive their schedules and sealed papers. It was this last employment I especially delighted in, and indeed I can scarce conceive any pleasure greater than I found going very early in the morning to one of the quays upon the River or as far as to Wapping Stairs, where I would watch the great ship slowly coming up upon the tide, between the misted grey banks and dim roofs of Limehouse and Rotherhithe; and could hear the rattle of the chains, and the joyful cries of the mariners that were now, after their perilous and long voyage, safely arrived at home. Then would I take boat and row out into the stream, hailing the master in the Company's name, who presently would let down a ladder by which I climbed aloft upon the deck, where the crew would gather round to hear news and to tell it; which telling of theirs I chiefly delighted in: the thousand adventures they had had, and the accounts of strange lands and mysterious rich cities beyond the seas. Thereafter, when the ship was berthed and our business settled, I would bear off the master and the other officers to Mr. Osborne, to be made welcome, when all was told o'er again, though with more observance paid to such matters as affected profit and loss than formerly I had heard the tale. The black little accountant was had in too, at such times, into Mr. Osborne's privy room, where we all sat round a great table, with Mr. Osborne at one end of it, very handsome and stately in his starched ruff and suit of guarded velvet; and the other principal persons of the Company about him on either side, to listen to what the shipmen related, as I have said.
Then, if the adventure had been profitably concluded (as sometimes it had not, though generally there was a fair sum cleared), oftentimes would the Governor invite us to supper with him, and me with the rest, I know not wherefore, save it were that Master Procter had praised me to him for my diligence in his service. And so we passed many a merry evening.
Yet this so brief summary of that time doth not cover all, nor perhaps the greater part, since it leaves out my thoughts and hopes, which, all said, is more of a man's life than all the other; and by so much the more is noteworthy. And these thoughts of mine, particularly when I lay quiet in bed in my little chamber on the Bridge, were concerned about an infinite number of matters I had no opportunity to consider in the hurry and press of the day. So, I would think of my father, his evil estate, and the increasing pain he suffered, for I had lately received news of him by the hand of Simon Powell, who, honest lad, had bound himself to a smith of Tolland in order to be near his old master and comfort him. Of Idonia, too, you will guess I thought much, and the more that my business hindered our often meeting, though sometimes I saw her when I went early in the morning to meet my ships; for later in the day she begged me not to come to the house, and greatly though this condition misliked me, I accepted it to please her. But, to be open, it was this consideration of all I dwelt upon which most held me in suspense, so that many a night I have slept scarce a wink, admiring what the secret were that compassed Idonia about, and the strangeness that clouded all her affairs.
"What is it goes on in that great still house?" I cried an hundred times, and would con over with myself the half hints I had already received; as of that swaggering Malpas, his attempted entrance; of the concealed Jesuit; of the way of communication between the part of the house Idonia lived in and the den of thieves where I had encountered with Andrew Plat. Then I would fall into a muse, only to be awakened on the sudden by the recollection of Guido Malpas, with his lean and crafty face pressed close against the window of the room I had sat in with Nelson and the Queen's yeoman, or by that older memory of my uncle Botolph who, I was assured, was also Skene the attorney. Why, by how great a rout of shadows was I compassed! and what a deal of infamy lay ready to be discovered upon the lightest hazard or unconsidered word!
Nay, had not my love for Mistress Avenon so wholly possessed me, I doubt I should have found in any the least strict review of her behaviour something covert, and diffident; as indeed she had already imparted from time to time much that a man more suspicious than I might have seized upon to her disadvantage. But such motes as those troubled me not, or rather troubled not the passion of love I cherished for her; though, for the rest, I infinitely desired her removal from circumstances that I could not but fear to be every way perilous.
Now it befell one day, in the early summer, that all London was awakened with the news that the Primrose, Captain Foster, was coming up the Thames with the Governor of Biscay aboard, a prisoner. So admirable tidings had not often of late been ours to receive, and to pother one's head with business upon such a day was not to be thought on, at least not by the younger men; and thus I was soon running down to the Port to learn the whole history of that memorable adventure, wherein the Primrose, of all our shipping that lay upon the Spanish Coast, and that were suddenly seized upon by those Papist dogs without warning or possibility of escape—the Primrose, I say, not only got off free, but in a most bloody fight destroyed the soldiers that had privily got aboard her, and took prisoner their great Viceregent, or (as they call him) Corregidor.
A host of men and women pressed upon Master Foster about the hithe, applauding his so notable courage and triumph, and deriding the poor Corregidor, who nevertheless remained steadfast, nor seemed not to regard their taunts and menaces, but stood very quiet, and, I vow, was as gallant a gentleman to see as any man could be. Now, all this taking place about the Tower steps, whither for convenience the prisoner had been brought, it followed I was but a stone's cast from Idonia's dwelling, which no sooner had I remembered than I utterly forgot her admonition not to see her except early, whereas it was now high noon; but leaving the throng of idle cheering folk, I crept away at once to the desolate house in Thames Street, where I made sure of finding her.
As I went along, the bells were ringing from every steeple, which so filled the air with victory, as I was intoxicated with the sound of them, and on the sudden resolved that, come what would, I would tell Idonia I tired of this sleek clerk's life I led, and would be done with it straightway. Alas! for all such schemes of youth and stirrings of liberty! and yet not altogether alas! perhaps, since 'tis the adverse event of the most of such schemes that prepares and hardens us for bitterer battles to come, when the ranks are thinning and the drums are silent, and the powder is wasted to the last keg....
To my satisfaction I perceived the gate to be open, and as I came up I saw a flutter of white in the dark of the hall, and a moment later the mist of gold which was Idonia's hair.
"Good-morrow!" I bade her laughingly, as I entered and closed the door behind me, "you did not look to have me visit you now, I warrant, when the bells be all pealing without, and a right success of our arms to acclaim!"
Idonia stood, one foot set upon the lowest stair, quite still. Not one word of greeting did she give me, nor was any light of welcome in her eyes, which were wide open and her lips parted as if to speak, though no word said she.
I hung back astonished, not knowing what to think, when I heard a rustle among the stuff beside me, and a man's voice that said very quiet: "How now, master, methinks that is overmuch familiarity to use with one that is under my ward."
I faced about instantly, laying my hand upon my sword, for this untoward interference startled me not a little. Even in the half dark I knew him; for 'twas none other than the attorney, John Skene.
We had stood awhile fronting each other thus, when "By the Mass!" cried Mr. Skene, clapping his open palm upon my shoulder, "'tis Mr. Denis Cleeve or the devil is in it," and so led me forward to the light.
"Are you two acquainted, then?" asked Idonia, her whole countenance of gravity exchanged for a bewildered expectancy. "Oh, why knew I not of this sooner? Oh, I am glad," she said, as she advanced to us, her bosom heaving, and such a light of pleasure in her eyes, as it seemed to lighten the very room itself, that had formerly showed so darksome and sinister.
"But tell me," she went on eagerly, and came so close that I could feel the warmth of her breath on my cheek, "is it a long while you have been friends?"
Now so struck with amazement was I, no less by the suddenness of this recognition than by the satire that Idonia's innocent speech implied, as I could answer nothing; but leaving the handling my sword, I stood resigned to what should follow.
"I think we be hardly friends yet," said Skene, with a laugh of great good nature, "and 'twould be a bolder coroner than I, who should pronounce all enmity dead between us. Am I not in the right, Master Cleeve?" he ended, on a note of some sharpness.
I looked up at that, first at Idonia to see how she took the matter, and then at Skene.
"You are right," said I, "seeing you stole my money."
"I knew your answer before you spoke it," replied Skene, nodding; "but yet I am glad 'tis out, for all that. A hidden grievance is like a dagger worn without a scabbard, that often hurts him that carries it more than him he means to use it against. Nay, I am not angry," he said with a motion of his hand. "Your case seemed to you perfect; I do not blame you. Nor will you me neither, when you shall hear all that hath befallen me 'twixt that and this. As for your money, it is safe enough; and had it passed your mind to inform me of where you lodged after you left Mr. Malt's in Fetter Lane, why, Mr. Cleeve, you could have had it any time for the asking." His tone had changed while he continued to speak, from a certain eagerness to slow reproach.
"But, sir," I began, when he stopped me peremptorily.
"It is ill bickering thus before a girl," he said, and going to the great press whence Idonia had before fetched forth her ledger-book he opened it, and without more ado restored to me my parcels of gold. I could have cried for very shame.
"Count them o'er," he said, with some contempt, but that was the word that sent my blood back into my head again. For I was assured the man was a villain and had meant to rob me, though by his cunning he had put a complexion of honesty upon his dealings, and forced me into the wrong.
"I will do so later," said I, coolly, "but now I would ask of you one further question. What name shall I call you by?" Meaning, should I name him my uncle Botolph or no, and so waited for the effect of that, being sure that by how little soever he should falter upon his reply, I should detect it. What measure of astonishment was mine, then, when he turned to Idonia with a smile.
"You shall reply for me," said he, "since you know me pretty well."
"When my father was killed," said Idonia, looking at me with her eyes all brimmed with tears, "in that affray under John Fox that I have already related to you, my mother dying soon after of grief, she left me a babe and quite friendless save for Mr. Skene, whom if you have anything against, I beseech you put it by for my sake, and because he had pity on me."
Then going a pace or two nearer to Skene she laid a hand on his arm and said—
"Sir, Mr. Cleeve has been kind to me, and protected me once from a man's insolence when you were absent. I had thought you had been friends before, but it seems you were enemies. We have enough of them, God wot! and a plenty of suspicions and hatreds to contend with. Then if it please you, sir, be friends now, you and he, else I know not what shall be done."
Whatever anger I still held, it died down (for that time) at her entreaties, and 'twas with no further thought than to have done with all strife that I offered my hand on the instant to Skene. And although later I did somewhat censure myself for such precipitancy of forgiveness in a case that more concerned my father than myself, yet I silenced my misgivings with the thought that I might take the occasion Skene had himself offered (when he said that I should learn what had befallen to prevent his meeting me on the day appointed in Serjeants Inn), and, if he should then fail to satisfy me, I would take up my quarrel anew.
The attorney took my hand with an apparent and equal openness.
"I thank you," he said, quietly, "and so enough. Much there may be to tell of that hath passed; but 'twill not lose by the keeping."
A burst of ringing from All Hallow's Church, close at hand, seemed to greet our new compact, or truce rather, with a shower of music.
"Why, how merry the world goes!" exclaimed Idonia. "Is it the Queen's birthday, or some proclaimed holiday? For I remember not the like of it."
I told her it was for the victory of the Primrose that had returned with the Governor of Biscay a prisoner.
"And would to God we had more captures in that kind to show," quoth I, "for they be a curse to the land, these Spaniards and black lurking Jesuits."
But no sooner were the words spoken, than I remembered the Jesuit Courcy that had been discovered here in hiding in this house, and so breaking short off I gazed full at Skene. He met my glance without winking.
"You speak very truly," he said, slowly, "and I swear by all I hold most sacred, that had I the ability, I would so deal with that tribe as the Israelites wrought with them beyond Jordan, and utterly destroy them." Now, whether in this sentence the man spoke his true mind, or damnably forswore himself, it remained with the sequel to be made clear.
Idonia gave a little movement the while he was speaking, but whether by way of assent or of a natural shrinking I could not tell. For myself I said nought, but regarded Skene steadfastly, who soon added—
"I have business above, Idonia, which cannot be stayed. It is past dinner time, and if Mr. Cleeve will so honour our poor house, I would have him remain to dinner. I am engaged abroad, an hour hence, and will take my meal then." He smiled. "Mr. Denis I leave to your care, child, and believe you will use him well." He turned on his heel and went upstairs, leaving us alone together in the hall.
To relate all that ensued I think not necessary to the understanding of this history, and also I should find it difficult to set down in writing or by any understood rule of grammar the things that were said, or elliptically expressed, between us. For Syntax helpeth no man at such seasons, nor Accidence any maid; 'tis an ineffable intercourse they use, from which slip away both mood and tense and reason, and the world too ... all which apparatus and tophamper overboard I found it surprisingly easy to convey my meaning; to which Idonia replied very modestly that 'twas her meaning no less, and with that I withdrew my arm and blessed High Heaven for my fortune.
Idonia was a radiant spirit that day. Her hitherto coldness and the backwardness with which she had been constrained to receive me I perceived had been due to no other cause than a fear how her guardian would regard my visits to the house; for despite his kindness to her (which she acknowledged) I saw she stood in awe of the man, and hardly ventured to cross him in the lightest matter.
"Neither doth the company he maintains about him like me overmuch," said she. "But now I care less than a little for such things, who shall soon leave this place for ever; ah! dear heart, but I shall be glad of such leaving, and no man shall ever have had so faithful and loving a wife, nor one," she added swiftly, "so apt at the book-keeping."
I was thinking of her hair, and said so.
"And I was thinking of a long-limbed boy with but three hairs to his beard," quoth Idonia, "and for wits to his skull, not so much as would varnish the back of a beetle. Why, how much doth your worship earn by the week?"
I told her, seven shillings, besides a new suit twice in the year.
"It must be bettered, master," said Idonia, grave at once.
"It shall be better spent," said I.
"But 'tis not enough by the half," quoth she.
"Well, we will eke out the rest by other ways, of which I have a store in my head, that, being happily vacant of wits, hath the more room to accommodate them."
Idonia's answer to this, I, having considered the matter, pass over as foreign to the argument.
'Twas a little after, that starting up, she cried: "Why, bless my dull appetite, we have not dined! And I with a fat hen upon the spit, fresh from the Cheape this morning."
"'Tis not enough by the half," said I, mocking her; but she would not stay longer, saying I must eat, for I had a big body to fill; though for my head, that was another song and a sad one; and ere I could let her, she was gone from me into the great kitchen beyond the stair.
I sat awhile where I was, marvellous happy and free from cares; and saw my love of this maid, like a new Creation arising from the waters, to make a whole world for me where before was nothing; for all seemed to me as nothing in comparison with her, so that I forgot my troubles and losses, my wounds and sickness, my father, my home, my uncle...
"What was that?" said I, sitting up straight, for I had, I think, fallen into a sort of trance, and imagined some noise had disturbed me.
"Hist!" came a whisper from aloft, and I leapt to my feet.
"Who is it speaks?" cried I, searching every corner of the dark hall with narrowed eyes.
"Hist!" said the voice again. "There is danger threatening to the folk of this house."
"What danger is there?" said I, who had now discovered who it was spoke; for there, lurking in the aperture of the wall to which the ladder reached up, I saw Andrew Plat, the lyrick poet, his tawny hair wild about his pale face, and his neck craned forward like a heron's. Yet for all the comick figure that he made I could not neglect the apparent seriousness of his warning, and especially when he added in a hoarse voice—
"Where is Mistress Avenon? O, fair Idonia, hasten hither, if you be within this fated mansion!"
"She is in the kitchen cooking a fowl," said I, pretty short, for this adjuration of his mightily displeased me.
"Cooking!—she!" returned the poet, with a despairing gesture. "Her lily hands! O monstrous indignity, and cruel office of a cook!"
I had thought he would fall headlong down the ladder, so distractedly did he behave himself, and called upon him sharply to tell me wherein lay this danger to Idonia he affected to fear.
"I stand alone against a host," said he with a flourish, "but Love maketh a man sufficient, and will fortify these arms."
"Enough," I shouted, "or I will assuredly call in question the authorship of a certain rascal poem you wot of."
"It is mine own," he screamed, and danced upon the sill for very rage. "There is no resemblance betwixt my verses and that preposterous fellow's—whose name even I know not. I vow there hath been nought, since Catullus, writ with so infinite and original an invention as my Hymn to the Spring," and off he went with his "Fresh Spring, the lovely herald of Great Love," with so great an eagerness of delight in the poor cuckoo-chick words, as I could not but pity him.
By this time our loud and contrary arguments had been overheard, and ere he had done Idonia came running forth from the kitchen, her sleeves above the elbow, and her dress all tucked up; while a little after, Skene called over the stair-rail to inquire out the cause of this disturbance.
"'Tis Mr. Plat, the celebrated poet," I replied, "that says there is a danger threatening this house, though of what nature I cannot learn."
Suddenly recalled by my protest, the poet clapped his hand to his forehead and cried out:
"O, whither hath my Muse rapt me? Return, my soul, and of this tumult tell..."
"Out with it, man!" quoth Mr. Skene, in his usual calm manner of command, that did more than all my attempts to come by the truth.
"They are returning from the Tower," said the poet, "whither they have carried off the Spaniard. They are coming hither, an incredible company with staves and all manner of weapons."
"And wherefore?" demanded Skene.
"Because 'tis constantly affirmed that you have here concealed a sort of plotting Jesuits and base men that would spy out the land, and enslave us. Nay, they go so far as to say that one such was caught here not so long ago in the open light of day, for which they swear to beat the house about your ears and slay you every one.
"Be silent," said the attorney briefly, and we all stood awhile attentive to any sound of menace from without. We had not long to wait, for almost on the instant there came a shuffle and rush of many feet, and that deep unforgettable roll, as of drums, that means the anger of confused and masterless multitudes.
Skene addressed me: "You alone have a sword, sir. You will cover our retreat."
I bowed without speaking, and unsheathing my sword, went to the door, where I clapped to the bolts and made all fast.
"Oh, Denis, Denis!" cried Idonia, who saw it was intended I should remain behind. "Sir," she pleaded with her guardian, "he must come with me where'er you lead me."
"He will follow," said he; and then to Plat—
"Do they compass the whole house, or is there a way of escape beyond?"
"There is yet," he answered, having made espial; "for the attack goes but upon the street side, leaving the lane free. But lose no time, for they be already scattering—ah! 'tis for fuel to lay to the door," cried he, all aghast now and scarce articulate. "Come away after me," and so was gone.
Skene said no more, but cast a quiet glance at me, that I knew meant he trusted me, and for which, more than all I had yet had from him, I thanked him. But hard work had I to refrain myself, when Idonia besought me with tears not to leave her and, when presently her guardian bore her half fainting up the ladder, to appear smiling and confident.
"I will follow you by and by," said I, and then sat down, suddenly sick at heart, upon a wooden grate of ship's goods; for the tumult at the gate was now grown intolerably affrighting.
"You must try another way than this," said Skene, who had now gained the sill, and I comprehended that he was about to draw up the ladder after, in order to mask their way of escape when the door should be forced in or burnt. I nodded, remembering that Idonia had been moved by the same consideration formerly, when the soldiers came with their warrant of search; and so the ladder was drawn up and I left.
It is not fit that I should describe all that followed, for no man can exactly report all, when all is in turmoil and an unchained madness hurrieth through every mind; madness of defiance and that hideous madness of fear. For if ever man gazed into the very eyes of the spectre of fear, it was I then, whom nameless horror possessed, so that more than once, when the hammering upon the gate shook even the flags with which the hall was paven, I shrunk back to the farthest corner in the dark, biting my knuckles till they bled; and even when the door was half down, and I at the breach making play with my sword to fend off the foremost that would enter, I felt my heart turn to water at the sight of that grinning circle of desperate and blood-hungry faces, and at the roar as of starved forest beasts ravening after their prey.
My defence came to an end suddenly; for although I might have made shift awhile longer to avert the danger from the gate (but indeed I was nigh spent with my labours there), I chanced just then to gaze sidelong at the shuttered window upon the left of it, and saw the shutter all splintered, and a fellow with a great swart beard, already astraddle on the ledge. Without a moment's parley I ran my sword half to the hilts into his side, and as he sank down in a huddle, I left the sword sticking where it was, and ran for my life.
How I got free of the house I know not, but it was by a window of the kitchen, I think, or else a hole I burst for myself; but by some venture of frenzy I gained the street, or rather an enclosed court, arched under at the further end by a sort of conduit or channel in the wall; and so, half on my belly shuffling through this filthy bow, I came by good hap into the open street, that I found was Tower Street, where at length I thought it safe to take leisure to breathe, and look about me.
But even here I was deceived of my security; for my passage having been, I suppose, easily discovered, there wanted not a full minute ere I heard an halloo! and a scraping of feet beneath the arched way, by which I perceived I was hotly followed. I stumbled to my feet straightway and fled westward up the street, while in my ears rang the alarm: "Stop thief! Jesuit! Hold, in the Queen's Name!" which, the passengers taking it up, and themselves incontinently joining in the pursuit, made my hopes of safety and my little remnant of strength to shrink together utterly, like a scroll of parchment in the fire.
I knew not how far I had gone, nor whither I had come, for all was strange to my disordered vision, but I know now that I had won nigh to the standard upon Cornhill (having turned to my right hand up Gracechurch Street); and holding my pursuers a little in check by repeated doublings, I found myself free to take refuge within a certain yard giving upon the public way and close against a tavern that is called the Leaden Porch. But fearing to remain openly in this place for any man to apprehend me, I cast about for some means of concealment, for I could go no further; and there being by good hap a cart standing under the arch in the entry (the carter having doubtless betaken himself to the tavern, as is the custom of such men), I got me up into it, painfully crawling beneath the load it carried, which was, methought, something oddly protected by a frame of timber hung about with linen-stuff or such-like, that I skilled not to discover the use of; and here I lay close, until very soon, as well from mere exhaustion as from a despairing indifference to the event, I fell asleep.
No thought of the money I had been so near to recovering disturbed my repose, nor indeed for three full days after did I so much as remember to have left the treasure bags behind me in the hurry of my flight.