The Story of Francis Cludde

by Stanley John Weyman

  CHAPTER V.

  MISTRESS BERTRAM.

  "Ding! ding! ding! Aid ye the poor! Pray for the dead! Five o'clock anda murky morning."

  The noise of the bell, and the cry which accompanied it, roused mefrom my first sleep in London, and that with a vengeance; the bellbeing rung and the words uttered within three feet of my head. Wheredid I sleep, then? Well, I had found a cozy resting-place behind someboards which stood propped against the wall of a baker's oven in astreet near Moorgate. The wall was warm and smelt of new bread, andanother besides myself had discovered its advantages. This was thewatchman, who had slumbered away most of his vigil cheek by jowl withme, but, morning approaching, had roused himself, and before he waswell out of his bed, certainly before he had left his bedroom, hadbegun--the ungrateful wretch--to prove his watchfulness by disturbingevery one else.

  I sat up and rubbed my eyes, grinding my shoulders well against thewall for warmth. I had no need to turn out yet, but I began to think,and the more I thought the harder I stared at the planks six inchesbefore my nose. My thoughts turned upon a very knotty point; one thatI had never seriously considered before. What was I going to do next?How was I going to live or to rear the new house of which I have mademention? Hitherto I had aimed simply at reaching London. London hadparaded itself before my mind--though my mind should have knownbetter--not as a town of cold streets and dreary alleys and shops openfrom seven to four with perhaps here and there a vacant place for anapprentice; but as a gilded city of adventure and romance, in which ayoung man of enterprise, whether he wanted to go abroad or to rise athome, might be sure of finding his sword weighed, priced, and boughtup on the instant, and himself valued at his own standard.

  But London reached, the hoarding in Moorgate reached, and five o'clockin the morning reached, somehow these visions faded rapidly. In thecold reality left to me I felt myself astray. If I would stay at home,who was going to employ me? To whom should I apply? What patron had I?Or if I would go abroad, how was I to set about it? how find a vessel,seeing that I might expect to be arrested the moment I showed my facein daylight?

  Here all my experience failed me. I did not know what to do, thoughthe time had come for action, and I must do or starve. It had been allvery well when I was at Coton, to propose that I would go up toLondon, and get across the water--such had been my dim notion--to theCourtenays and Killigrews, who, with other refugees, Protestants forthe most part, were lying on the French coast, waiting for bettertimes. But now that I was in London, and as good as an outlaw myself,I saw no means of going to them. I seemed farther from my goal than Ihad been in Warwickshire.

  Thinking very blankly over this I began to munch the piece of breadwhich I owed to the old dame at Tottenham; and had solemnly gotthrough half of it, when the sound of rapid footsteps--the footstepsof women, I judged from the lightness of the tread--caused me to holdmy hand and listen. Whoever they were--and I wondered, for it wasstill early, and I had heard no one pass since the watchman leftme--they came to a stand in front of my shelter, and one of themspoke. Her words made me start; unmistakably the voice was agentlewoman's, such as I had not heard for almost a week. And at thisplace and hour, on the raw borderland of day and night, a gentlewomanwas the last person I expected to light upon. Yet if the speaker werenot some one of station, Petronilla's lessons had been thrown awayupon me.

  The words were uttered in a low voice; but the planks in front of mewere thin, and the speaker was actually leaning against them. I caughtevery accent of what seemed to be the answer to a question. "Yes, yes!It is all right!" she said, a covert ring of impatience in her tone."Take breath a moment. I do not see him now."

  "Thank Heaven!" muttered another voice. As I had fancied, there weretwo persons. The latter speaker's tone smacked equally of breedingwith the former's, but was rounder and fuller, and more masterful; andshe appeared to be out of breath. "Then perhaps we have thrown him offthe trail," she continued, after a short pause, in which she seemed tohave somewhat recovered herself. "I distrusted him from the first,Anne--from the first. Yet, do you know, I never feared him as I didMaster Clarence; and as it was too much to hope that we should be ridof both at once--they took good care of that--why, the attempt had tobe made while he was at home. But I always felt he was a spy."

  "Who? Master Clarence?" asked she who had spoken first.

  "Ay, he certainly. But I did not mean him, I meant Philip."

  "Well, I--I said at first, you remember, that it was a foolhardyenterprise, mistress!"

  "Tut, tut, girl!" quoth the other tartly--this time the impatience laywith her, and she took no pains to conceal it--"we are not beaten yet.Come, look about! Cannot you remember where we are, nor which way theriver should be? If the dawn were come, we could tell."

  "But with the dawn----"

  "The streets would fill. True, and, Master Philip giving the alarm, weshould be detected before we had gone far. The more need, girl, tolose no time. I have my breath again, and the child is asleep. Let usventure one way or the other, and Heaven grant it be the right one!"

  "Let me see," the younger woman answered slowly, as if in doubt. "Didwe come by the church? No; we came the other way. Let us try thisturning, then."

  "Why, child, we came that way," was the decided answer. "What are youthinking of? That would take us straight back into his arms, thewretch! Come, come! you loiter," continued this, the more masculinespeaker, "and a minute may make all the difference between a prisonand freedom. If we can reach the Lion Wharf by seven--it is like to bea dark morning and foggy--we may still escape before Master Philipbrings the watch upon us."

  They moved briskly away as she spoke, and her words were alreadygrowing indistinct from distance, while I remained still, idly seekingthe clew to their talk and muttering over and over again the nameClarence, which seemed familiar to me, when a cry of alarm, in which Irecognized one of their voices, cut short my reverie. I crawled withall speed from my shelter, and stood up, being still in a line withthe boards, and not easily distinguishable. As she had said, it was adark morning; but the roofs of the houses--now high, now low--could beplainly discerned against a gray, drifting sky wherein the first signsof dawn were visible; and the blank outlines of the streets, which metat this point, could be seen. Six or seven yards from me, in themiddle of the roadway, stood three dusky figures, of whom I judged thenearer, from their attitudes, to be the two women. The farthest seemedto be a man.

  I was astonished to see that he was standing cap in hand; nay, I wasdisgusted as well, for I had crept out hot-fisted, expecting to becalled upon to defend the women. But, despite the cry I had heard,they were talking to him quietly enough, as far as I could hear. Andin a minute or so I saw the taller woman give him something.

  He took it with a low bow, and appeared almost to sweep the dirt withhis bonnet. She waved her hand in dismissal, and he stood back stilluncovered. And--hey, presto! the women tripped swiftly away.

  By this time my curiosity was intensely excited, but for a moment Ithought it was doomed to disappointment. I thought that it was allover. It was not, by any means. The man stood looking after them untilthey reached the corner, and the moment they had passed it, hefollowed. His stealthy manner of going, and his fashion of peeringafter them, was enough for me. I guessed at once that he was doggingthem, following them unknown to them and against their will; and withconsiderable elation I started after him, using the same precautions.What was sauce for the geese was sauce for the gander! So we went,two--one--one, slipping after one another through half a dozen darkstreets, tending generally southward.

  Following him in this way I seldom caught a glimpse of the women. Theman kept at a considerable distance behind them, and I had myattention fixed on him. But once or twice, when, turning a corner, Iall but trod on his heels, I saw them; and presently an odd pointabout them struck me. There was a white kerchief or something attachedapparently to the back of the one's cloak, which considerably assistedmy stealt
hy friend to keep them in view. It puzzled me. Was it asignal to him? Was he really all the time acting in concert with them;and was I throwing away my pains? Or was the white object which sobetrayed them merely the result of carelessness, and the lack offoresight of women grappling with a condition of things to which theywere unaccustomed? Of course I could not decide this, the more as, atthat distance, I failed to distinguish what the white something was,or even which of the two wore it.

  Presently I got a clew to our position, for we crossed Cheapside closeto Paul's Cross, which my childish memories of the town enabled me torecognize, even by that light. Here my friend looked up and down, andhung a minute on his heel before he followed the women, as ifexpecting or looking for some one. It might be that he was trying tomake certain that the watch were not in sight. They were not, at anyrate. Probably they had gone home to bed, for the morning was growing.And, after a momentary hesitation, he plunged into the narrow streetdown which the women had flitted.

  He had only gone a few yards when I heard him cry out. The nextinstant, almost running against him myself, I saw what had happened.The women had craftily lain in wait for him in the little court intowhich the street ran and had caught him as neatly as could be. When Icame upon them the taller woman was standing at bay with a passionthat was almost fury in her pose and gesture. Her face, from which thehood of a coarse cloak had fallen back, was pale with anger; her grayeyes flashed, her teeth glimmered. Seeing her thus, and seeing theburden she carried under her cloak--which instinct told me was herchild--I thought of a tigress brought to bay.

  "You lying knave!" she hissed. "You Judas!"

  The man recoiled a couple of paces, and in recoiling nearly touchedme.

  "What would you?" she continued. "What do you want? What would you do?You have been paid to go. Go, and leave us!"

  "I dare not," he muttered, keeping away from her as if he dreaded ablow. She looked a woman who could deal a blow, a woman who could bothlove and hate fiercely and openly--as proud and frank and haughty alady as I had ever seen in my life. "I dare not," he mutteredsullenly; "I have my orders."

  "Oh!" she cried, with scorn. "You have your orders, have you! Themurder is out. But from whom, sirrah? Whose orders are to supersedemine? I would King Harry were alive, and I would have you whipped toTyburn. Speak, rogue; who bade you follow me?"

  He shook his head.

  She looked about her wildly, passionately, and I saw that she was ather wits' end what to do, or how to escape him. But she was a woman.When she next spoke there was a marvelous change in her. Her face hadgrown soft, her voice low. "Philip," she said gently, "the purse waslight. I will give you more. I will give you treble the amount withina few weeks, and I will thank you on my knees, and my husband shall besuch a friend to you as you have never dreamed of, if you will only gohome and be silent. Only that--or, better still, walk the streets anhour, and then report that you lost sight of us. Think, man, think!"she cried with energy--"the times may change. A little more, and Wyatthad been master of London last year. Now the people are fuller ofdiscontent than ever, and these burnings and torturings, theseSpaniards in the streets--England will not endure them long. The timeswill change. Let us go, and you will have a friend--when most you needone."

  He shook his head sullenly. "I dare not do it," he said. And somehow Igot the idea that he was telling the truth, and that it was not theman's stubborn nature only that withstood the bribe and the plea. Hespoke as if he were repeating a lesson and the master were present.

  When she saw that she could not move him, the anger, which I thinkcame more naturally to her, broke out afresh. "You will not, youhound!" she cried. "Will neither threats nor promises move you?"

  "Neither," he answered doggedly; "I have my orders."

  So far, I had remained a quiet listener, standing in the mouth of thelane which opened upon the court where they were. The women had takenno notice of me; either because they did not see me, or because,seeing me, they thought that I was a hanger-on of the man before them.And he, having his back to me, and his eyes on them, could not see me.It was a surprise to him--a very great surprise, I think--when I tookthree steps forward, and gripped him by the scruff of his neck.

  "You have your orders, have you?" I muttered in his ear, as I shookhim to and fro, while the taller woman started back and the youngeruttered a cry of alarm at my sudden appearance. "Well, you will notobey them. Do you hear? Your employer may go hang! You will do justwhat these ladies please to ask of you."

  He struggled an instant; but he was an undersized man, and he couldnot loosen the hold which I had secured at my leisure. Then I noticedhis hand going to his girdle in a suspicious way. "Stop that!" I said,flashing before his eyes a short, broad blade, which had cut many adeer's throat in Old Arden Forest. "You had better keep quiet, or itwill be the worse for you! Now, mistress," I continued, "you candispose of this little man as you please."

  "Who are you?" she said, after a pause; during which she had stared atme in open astonishment. No doubt I was a wild-looking figure.

  "A friend," I replied. "Or one who would be such. I saw this fellowfollow you, and I followed him. For the last five minutes I have beenlistening to your talk. He was not amenable to reason then, but Ithink he will be now. What shall I do with him?"

  She smiled faintly, but did not answer at once, the coolness andresolution with which she had faced him before failing her now,possibly in sheer astonishment, or because my appearance at her side,by removing the strain, sapped the strength. "I do not know," she saidat length, in a vague, puzzled tone.

  "Well," I answered, "you are going to the Lion Wharf, and----"

  "Oh, you fool!" she screamed out loud. "Oh, you fool!" she repeatedbitterly. "Now you have told him all."

  I stood confounded. My cheeks burned with shame, and her look ofcontempt cut me like a knife. That the reproach was deserved I knew atonce, for the man in my grasp gave a start, which proved that theinformation was not lost upon him. "Who told you?" the woman went on,clutching the child jealously to her breast, as though she saw herselfmenaced afresh. "Who told you about the Lion Wharf?"

  "Never mind," I answered gloomily. "I have made a mistake, but it iseasy to remedy it." And I took out my knife again. "Do you go on andleave us."

  I hardly know whether I meant my threat or no. But my prisoner had nodoubts. He shrieked out--a wild cry of fear which rang round the emptycourt--and by a rapid blow, despair giving him courage, he dashed thehunting-knife from my hand. This done he first flung himself on me,then tried by a sudden jerk to free himself. In a moment we were downon the stones, and tumbling over one another in the dirt, while hestruggled to reach his knife, which was still in his girdle, and Istrove to prevent him. The fight was sharp, but it lasted barely aminute. When the first effort of his despair was spent, I cameuppermost, and he was but a child in my hands. Presently, with my kneeon his chest, I looked up. The women were still there, the youngerclinging to the other.

  "Go! go!" I cried impatiently. Each second I expected the court to beinvaded, for the man had screamed more than once.

  But they hesitated. I had been forced to hurt him a little, and he wasmoaning piteously. "Who are you?" the elder woman asked--she who hadspoken all through.

  "Nay, never mind that!" I answered. "Do you go! Go, while you can. Youknow the way to the Wharf."

  "Yes," she answered. "But I cannot go and leave him at your mercy.Remember he is a man, and has----"

  "He is a treacherous scoundrel," I answered, giving his throat asqueeze. "But he shall have one more chance. Listen, sirrah!" Icontinued to the man, "and stop that noise or I will knock out yourteeth with my dagger-hilt. Listen and be silent. I shall go with theseladies, and I promise you this: If they are stopped or hindered ontheir way, or if evil happen to them at that wharf, whose name you hadbetter forget, it will be the worse for you. Do you hear? You willsuffer for it, though there be a dozen guards about you! Mind you," Iadded, "I have nothing to lose myself, for I am desperate already."


  He vowed--the poor craven--with his stuttering tongue, that he wouldbe true, and vowed it again and again. But I saw that his eyes did notmeet mine. They glanced instead at the knife-blade, and I knew, evenwhile I pretended to trust him, that he would betray us. My real hopelay in his fears, and in this, that as the fugitives knew the way tothe wharf, and it could not now be far distant, we might reach it,and go on board some vessel--I had gathered they were flying thecountry--before this wretch could recover himself and get together aforce to stop us. That was my real hope, and in that hope only I lefthim.

  We went as fast as the women could walk. I did not trouble them withquestions; indeed, I had myself no more leisure than enabled me tonotice their general appearance, which was that of comfortabletradesmen's womenfolk. Their cloaks and hoods were plainly fashioned,and of coarse stuff, their shoes were thick, and no jewel or scrap oflace, peeping out, betrayed them. Yet there was something in theircarriage which could not be hidden, something which, to my eye, toldtales; so that minute by minute I became more sure that this wasreally an adventure worth pursuing, and that London had kept a rewardin store for me besides its cold stones and inhospitable streets.

  The city was beginning to rouse itself. As we flitted through thelanes and alleys which lie between Cheapside and the river, we metmany people, chiefly of the lower classes, on their way to work. Yetin spite of this, we had no need to fear observation, for, though themorning was fully come, with the light had arrived such a thick,choking, yellow fog as I, being for the most part country-bred, hadnever experienced. It was so dense and blinding that we had adifficulty in keeping together, and even hand in hand could scarcelysee one another. In my wonder how my companions found their way, Ipresently failed to notice their condition, and only remarked thedistress and exhaustion which one of them was suffering, when shebegan, notwithstanding all her efforts, to lag behind. Then I sprangforward, blaming myself much. "Forgive me," I said. "You are tired,and no wonder. Let me carry the child, mistress."

  Exhausted as she was, she drew away from me jealously.

  "No," she panted. "We are nearly there. I am better now." And shestrained the child closer to her, as though she feared I might take itfrom her by force.

  "Well, if you will not trust me," I answered, "let your friend carryit for a time. I can see you are tired out."

  Through the mist she bent forward, and peered into my face, her eyesscarcely a foot from mine. The scrutiny seemed to satisfy her. Shedrew a long breath and held out her burden. "No," she said; "you shalltake him. I will trust you."

  I took the little wrapped-up thing as gently as I could. "You shallnot repent it, if I can help it, Mistress----"

  "Bertram," she said.

  "Mistress Bertram," I repeated. "Now let us get on and lose no time."

  A walk of a hundred yards or so brought us clear of the houses, andrevealed before us, in place of all else, a yellow curtain of fog.Below this, at our feet, yet apparently a long way from us, was astrange, pale line of shimmering light, which they told me was thewater. At first I could hardly believe this. But, pausing a momentwhile my companions whispered together, dull creakings and groaningsand uncouth shouts and cries, and at last the regular beat of oars,came to my ears out of the bank of vapor, and convinced me that wereally had the river before us.

  Mistress Bertram turned to me abruptly. "Listen," she said, "anddecide for yourself, my friend. We are close to the wharf now, and ina few minutes shall know our fate. It is possible that we may beintercepted at this point, and if that happen, it will be bad for meand worse for any one aiding me. You have done us gallant service, butyou are young; and I am loath to drag you into perils which do notbelong to you. Take my advice, then, and leave us now. I would I couldreward you," she added hastily, "but that knave has my purse."

  I put the child gently back into her arms. "Good-by," she said, withmore feeling. "We thank you. Some day I may return to England, andhave ample power----"

  "Not so fast," I answered stiffly. "Did you think it possible,mistress, that I would desert you now? I gave you back the child onlybecause it might hamper me, and will be safer with you. Come, let uson at once to the wharf."

  "You mean it?" she said.

  "Of a certainty!" I answered, settling my cap on my head with perhapsa boyish touch of the braggart.

  At any rate, she did not take me at once at my word; and her thoughtfor me touched me the more because I judged her--I know not exactlywhy--to be a woman not over prone to think of others. "Do not bereckless," she said slowly, her eyes intently fixed on mine. "I shouldbe sorry to bring evil upon you. You are but a boy."

  "And yet," I answered, smiling, "there is as good as a price upon myhead already. I should be reckless if I stayed here. If you will takeme with you, let us go. We have loitered too long already."

  She turned then, asking no questions; but she looked at me from timeto time in a puzzled way, as though she thought she ought to knowme--as though I reminded her of some one. Paying little heed to thisthen, I hurried her and her companion down to the water, traversing astretch of foreshore strewn with piles of wood and stacks of barrelsand old rotting boats, between which the mud lay deep. Fortunately itwas high tide, and so we had not far to go. In a minute or two Idistinguished the hull of a ship looming large through the fog; and afew more steps placed us safely on a floating raft, on the far side ofwhich the vessel lay moored.

  There was only one man to be seen lounging on the raft, and theneighborhood was quiet. My spirits rose as I looked round. "Is thisthe _Whelp?_" the tall lady asked. I had not heard the other open hermouth since the encounter in the court.

  "Yes, it is the _Whelp_, madam," the man answered, saluting her andspeaking formally, and with a foreign accent. "You are the lady who isexpected?"

  "I am," she answered, with authority. "Will you tell the captain thatI desire to sail immediately, without a moment's delay? Do youunderstand?"

  "Well, the tide is going out," quoth the sailor, dubiously, lookingsteadily into the fog, which hid the river. "It has just turned, it istrue. But as to sailing----"

  She cut him short. "Go, go! man. Tell your captain what I say. And letdown a ladder for us to get on board."

  He caught a rope which hung over the side, and, swinging himself up,disappeared. We stood below, listening to the weird sounds which cameoff the water, the creaking and flapping of masts and canvas, the whirof wings and shrieks of unseen gulls, the distant hail of boatmen. Abell in the city solemnly tolled eight. The younger woman shivered.The elder's foot tapped impatiently on the planks. Shut in by theyellow walls of fog, I experienced a strange sense of solitude; it wasas if we three were alone in the world--we three who had come togetherso strangely.