The Story of Francis Cludde

by Stanley John Weyman

  CHAPTER XVII.

  A LETTER THAT HAD MANY ESCAPES.

  "Hoity, toity!" the Duchess cried again, looking from one to anotherof us when Anne had disappeared. "What has come to the little fool?Has she gone crazy?"

  I shook my head, too completely at sea even to hazard a conjecture.Master Bertie shook his head also, keeping his eyes glued to the door,as if he could not believe Anne had really gone.

  "I said nothing to frighten her!" my lady protested.

  "Nothing at all," I answered. For how should the announcement that myreal name was Cludde terrify Mistress Anne Brandon nearly out of hersenses?

  "Well, no," Master Bertie agreed, his thoughtful face more thoughtfulthan usual; "so far as I heard, you said nothing. But I think, mydear, that you had better follow her and learn what it is. She must beill."

  The Duchess sat down. "I will go by-and-by," she said coolly, at whichI was not much surprised, for I have always remarked that women haveless sympathy with other women's ailments, especially of the nerves,than have men.

  "For the moment I want to scold this brave, silly boy here!" shecontinued, looking so kindly at me that I blushed again, and forgotall about Mistress Anne. "To think of him leaving his home to become awandering squire of dames merely because his father was a--well, notquite what he would have liked him to be! I remember something abouthim," she continued, pursing up her lips, and nodding her head at us."I fancied him dead, however, years ago. But there! if every one whosefather were not quite to his liking left home and went astraying,Master Francis, all sensible folk would turn innkeepers, and maketheir fortunes."

  "It was not only that which drove me from home," I explained. "TheBishop of Winchester gave me clearly to understand----"

  "That Coton was not the place for you!" exclaimed my lady scornfully."He is a sort of connection of yours, is he not? Oh, I know. And hethinks he has a kind of reversionary interest in the property! Withyou and your father out of the way, and only your girl cousin left,his interest is much more likely to come to hand. Do you see?"

  I recalled what Martin Luther had said about the cuckoo. But I havesince thought that probably they both wronged Stephen Gardiner inthis. He was not a man of petty mind, and his estate was equal to hishigh place. I think it more likely that his motive in removing me fromCoton was chiefly the desire to use my services abroad, in conjunctionperhaps with some remoter and darker plan for eventually devoting theCludde property to the Church. Such an act of piety would have beenpossible had Sir Anthony died leaving his daughter unmarried, andwould certainly have earned for the Chancellor Queen Mary's lastingfavor. I think it the more likely to have been in his mind because hisinability to persuade the gentry to such acts of restitution--KingHarry had much enriched us--was always a sore point with the Queen,and more than once exposed him to her resentment.

  "The strangest thing of all," the Duchess continued with alacrity,"seems to me to be this: that if he had not meddled with you, he wouldnot have had his plans in regard to us thwarted. If he had not drivenyou from home, you would never have helped me to escape from London,nor been with us to foil his agents."

  "A higher power than the Chancellor arranged that!" said Master Bertieemphatically.

  "Well, at any rate, I am glad that you are you!" the Duchess answered,rising gayly. "A Cludde? Why, one feels at home again. And yet," shecontinued, her lips trembling suddenly, and her eyes filling withtears as she looked at me, "there was never house raised yet on noblerdeed than yours."

  "Go! go! go!" cried her husband, seeing my embarrassment. "Go and lookto that foolish girl!"

  "I will! Yet stop!" cried my lady, pausing when she was half wayacross the floor, and returning, "I was forgetting that I have anotherletter to open. It is very odd that this letter was never openedbefore," she continued, producing that which had lain in my haversack."It has had several narrow escapes. But this time I vow I will seeinside it. You give me leave?"

  "Oh, yes," I said, smiling. "I wash my hands of it. Whoever theMistress Clarence to whom it is addressed may be, it is enough thather name is Clarence! We have suffered too much at his hands."

  "I open it, then!" my lady cried dramatically. I nodded. She took herhusband's dagger and cut the green silk which bound the packet, andopened and read.

  Only a few words. Then she stopped, and looking off the paper,shivered. "I do not understand this," she murmured. "What does itmean?"

  "No good! I'll be sworn!" Master Bertie replied, gazing at hereagerly. "Read it aloud, Katherine."

  "'To Mistress A---- B----. I am advertised by my trusty agent, MasterClarence, that he hath benefited much by your aid in the matter inwhich I have employed him. Such service goeth always for much, andnever for naught, with me. In which belief confirm yourself. For thepresent, working with him as heretofore, be secret, and on no accountlet your true sentiments come to light. So you will be the morevaluable to me, even as it is more easy to unfasten a barred door fromwithin than from without.'"

  Here the Duchess broke off abruptly, and turned on us a face full ofwonder. "What does it mean?" she asked.

  "Is that all?" her husband said.

  "Not quite," she answered, returning to it, and reading:

  "'Those whom you have hitherto served have too long made a mockery ofsacred things, but their cup is full and the business of seeing thatthey drink it lieth with me, who am not wont to be slothful in thesematters. Be faithful and secret. Good speed and fare you well.--Ste.Winton."

  "One thing is quite clear!" said Master Bertie slowly. "That you and Iare the persons whose cup is full. You remember how you once dressedup a dog in a rochet, and dandled it before Gardiner? And it is ourmatter in which Clarence is employed. Then who is it who has beencooperating with him, and whose aid is of so much value to him?"

  "'Even as it is easier,'" I muttered thoughtfully, "'to unfasten abarred door from within than from without." What was it of which thatstrange sentence reminded me? Ha! I had it. Of the night on which wehad fled from Master Lindstrom's house, when Mistress Anne had beenseized with that odd fit of perverseness, and had almost opened thedoor looking upon the river in spite of all I could say or do. It wasof that the sentence reminded me. "To whom is it addressed?" I askedabruptly.

  "To Mistress Clarence," my lady answered.

  "No; inside, I mean."

  "Oh! to Mistress A---- B----. But that gives us no clew," she added."It is a disguise. You see they are the two first letters of thealphabet."

  So they were. And the initial letters of Anne Brandon! I wondered thatthe Duchess did not see it, that she did not at once turn hersuspicions toward the right quarter. But she was, for a woman,singularly truthful and confiding. And she saw nothing.

  I looked at Master Bertie. He seemed puzzled, discerning, I fancy,how strangely the allusions pointed to Mistress Anne, but not daringat once to draw the inference. She was his wife's kinswoman bymarriage--albeit a distant one--and much indebted to her. She had beenalmost as his own sister. She was young and fair, and to associatetreachery and ingratitude such as this with her seemed almost toohorrible.

  Then why was I so clear sighted as to read the riddle? Why was I thefirst to see the truth? Because I had felt for days a vague andill-defined distrust of the girl. I had seen more of her odd fits andcaprices than had the others. Looking back now I could find aconfirmation of my idea in a dozen things which had befallen us. Iremembered how ill and stricken she had looked on the day when I hadfirst brought out the letter, and how strangely she had talked to meabout it. I remembered Clarence's interview with, not Dymphna,--as Ihad then thought,--but, as I now guessed, Anne, wearing her cloak. Irecalled the manner in which she had used me to persuade Master Bertieto take the Wesel instead of the Santon road; no doubt she had toldClarence to follow in that direction, if by any chance we escapedhim on the island. And her despair when she heard in the church porchthat I had killed Clarence at the ford! And her utter abandonment tofear--poor guilty thing!--w
hen she thought that all her devices hadonly led her with us to a dreadful death! These things, in the lightin which I now viewed them, were cogent evidences against her.

  "It must have been written to some one about us!" said the Duchess atlength. "To some one in our confidence. 'On our side of the door,' ashe calls it."

  "Yes, that is certain," I said.

  "And on the wrapper he styles her Mistress Clarence. Now who----"

  "Who could it have been? That is the question we have to answer,"Master Bertie replied dryly. Hearing his voice, I knew he had come atlast to the same conclusion to which I had jumped. "I think you maydismiss the servants from the inquiry," he continued. "The Bishop ofWinchester would scarcely write to them in that style."

  "Dismiss the servants? Then who is left?" she protested.

  "I think----" He lost courage, hesitated, and broke off. She looked athim wonderingly. He turned to me, and, gaining confirmation from mynod, began again. "I think I should ask A---- B----," he said.

  "A---- B----?" she cried, still not seeing one whit.

  "Yes. Anne Brandon," he answered sternly.

  She repeated his words softly and stood a moment gazing at him. Inthat moment she saw it all. She sat down suddenly on the chair besideher and shuddered violently, as if she had laid her hand unwittinglyupon a snake. "Oh, Richard," she whispered, "it is too horrible!"

  "I fear it is too true," he answered gloomily.

  I shrank from looking at them, from meeting her eyes or his. I felt asif this shame had come upon us all. The thought that the culprit mightwalk into the room at any moment filled me with terror. I turned awayand looked through the window, leaving the husband and wife together.

  "Is it only the name you are thinking of?" she muttered.

  "No," he answered. "Before I left England to go to Calais I sawsomething pass between them--between her and Clarence--which,surprised me. Only in the confusion of those last days it slipped frommy memory for the time."

  "I see," she said quietly. "The villain!"

  Looking back on the events of the last week, I found many things madeplain by the lurid light now cast upon them. I understood how MasterLindstrom's vase had come to be broken when we were discussing theletter, which in my hands must have been a perpetual terror to thegirl. I discerned that she had purposely sown dissension betweenmyself and Van Tree, and recalled how she had striven to persuade usnot to leave the island; then, how she had induced us to take thatunlucky road; finally, how on the road her horse had lagged and laggedbehind, detaining us all when every minute was precious. The thingsall dovetailed into one another; each by itself was weak, but togetherthey formed a strong scaffold--a scaffold strong enough for thehanging of a man, if she had been a man! The others appealed to me,the Duchess feverishly anxious to be assured one way or the other. Thevery suspicion of the existence of such treachery at her side seemedto stifle her. Still looking out of the window I detailed the proofs Ihave mentioned, not gladly, Heaven knows, or in any spirit of revenge.But my duty was rather to my companions who had been true to me, thanto her. I told them the truth as far as I knew it. The whole wretched,miserable truth was only to become known to me later.

  "I will go to her," the Duchess said presently, rising from her seat.

  "My dear!" her husband cried. He stretched out his hand, and graspingher skirt detained her. "You will not----"

  "Do not be afraid!" she replied sadly, as she stooped over him andkissed his forehead. "It is a thing past scolding, Richard; past loveand even hope, and all but past pity. I will be merciful as we hopefor mercy, but she can never be friend of ours again, and some onemust tell her. I will do so and return. As for that man!" shecontinued, obscuring suddenly the fair and noble side of her characterwhich she had just exhibited, and which I confess had surprised me,for I had not thought her capable of a generosity so uncommon; "as forthat man," she repeated, drawing herself up to her full height, whileher eyes sparkled and her cheek grew red, "who has turned her into avile schemer and a shameless hypocrite, as he would fain have turnedbetter women, I will show him no mercy nor grace if I ever have himunder my feet. I will crush him as I would an adder, though I becrushed next moment myself!"

  She was sweeping with that word from the room, and had nearly reachedthe door before I found my voice. Then I called out "Stay!" just intime. "You will do no good, madam, by going!" I said, rising. "Youwill not find her. She is gone."

  "Gone?"

  "Yes," I said quietly. "She left the house twenty minutes ago. I sawher cross the market-place, wearing her cloak and carrying a bag. I donot think she will return."

  "Not return? But whither has she gone?" they both cried at once.

  I shook my head.

  "I can only guess," I said in a low voice. "I saw no more than I havetold you."

  "But why did you not tell me'" the Duchess cried reproachfully. "Sheshall be brought back."

  "It would be useless," Master Bertie answered. "Yet I doubt if it beas Carey thinks. Why should she go just at this time? She does notknow that she is found out. She does not know that this letter hasbeen recovered. Not a word, mind, was said of it before she left theroom."

  "No," I allowed; "that is true."

  I was puzzled on this point myself, now I came to consider it. I couldnot see why she had taken the alarm so opportunely; but I maintainedmy opinion nevertheless.

  "Something frightened her," I said; "though it may not have been theletter."

  "Yes," said the Duchess, after a moment's silence. "I suppose you areright. I suppose something frightened her, as you say. I wonder whatit was, poor wretch!"

  It turned out that I was right. Mistress Anne had gone indeed, havingstayed, so far as we could learn from an examination of the room whichshe had shared with Dymphna, merely to put together the few thingswhich our adventures had left her. She had gone out from among us inthis foreign land without a word of farewell, without a good wishgiven or received, without a soul to say God speed! The thought mademe tremble. If she had died it would have been different. Now, to feelsorrow for her as for one who had been with us in heart as well as inbody, seemed a mockery. How could we grieve for one who had moved dayby day and hour by hour among us, only that with each hour and day shemight plot and scheme and plan our destruction? It was impossible!

  We made inquiries indeed, but without result; and so, abruptly andterribly she passed--for the time--out of our knowledge, though oftenafterward I recalled sadly the weary, hunted look which I hadsometimes seen in her eyes when she sat listless and dreamy. Poorgirl! Her own acts had placed her, as the Duchess said, beyond love orhope, but not beyond pity.

  So it is in life. The day which sees one's trial end sees another'sbegin. We--the Duchess and her child, Master Bertie and I--stayed withour good and faithful friends the Lindstroms a while, resting andrecruiting our strength; and during this interval, at the pressinginstance of the Duchess, I wrote letters to Sir Anthony andPetronilla, stating that I was abroad, and was well, and lookedpresently to return; but not disclosing my refuge or the names of mycompanions. At the end of five days, Master Bertie being fairly strongagain and Santon being considered unsafe for us as a permanentresidence, we went under guard to Wesel, where we were received aspeople of quality, and lodged, there being no fitting place, in thedisused church of St. Willibrod. Here the child was christenedPeregrine--a wanderer; the governor of the city and I beinggodfathers. And here we lived in peace--albeit with hearts thatyearned for home--for some months.

  During this time two pieces of news came to us from England: one, thatthe Parliament, though much pressed to it, had refused to acquiesce inthe confiscation of the Duchess's estates; the other, that our jointpersecutor, the great Bishop of Winchester, was dead. This last we atfirst disbelieved. It was true, nevertheless. Stephen Gardiner, whosevast schemes had enmeshed people so far apart in station, and indeedin all else, as the Duchess and myself, was dead at last; had diedtoward the end of 1555, at the height of his power, with England athis feet, and gon
e to his Maker. I have known many worse men.

  We trusted that this might open the way for our return, but we foundon the contrary that fresh clouds were rising. The persecution of theReformers, which Queen Mary had begun in England, was carried on withincreasing rigor, and her husband, who was now King of Spain andmaster of the Netherlands, freed from the prudent checks of hisfather, was inclined to pleasure her in this by giving what aid hecould abroad. His Minister in the Netherlands, the Bishop of Arras,brought so much pressure to bear upon our protector to induce him togive us up, that it was plain the Duke of Cleves must sooner or latercomply. We thought it better, therefore, to remove ourselves, andpresently did so, going to the town of Winnheim in the RhinePalatinate.

  We found ourselves not much more secure here, however, and all ourefforts to discover a safe road into France failing, and the stock ofmoney which the Duchess had provided beginning to give out, we were ingreat straits whither to go or what to do.

  At this time of our need, however, Providence opened a door in aquarter where we least looked for it. Letters came from Sigismund, theKing of Poland, and from the Palatine of Wilna in that country,inviting the Duchess and Master Bertie to take up their residencethere, and offering the latter an establishment and honorableemployment. The overture was unlooked for, and was not acceptedwithout misgivings, Wilna being so far distant, and there being noneof our race in that country. However, assurance of the Polish King'sgood faith reached us--I say us, for in all their plans I wasincluded--through John Alasco, a nobleman who had visited England. Andin due time we started on this prodigious journey, and came safely toWilna, where our reception was such as the letters had led us toexpect.

  I do not propose to set down here our adventures, though they weremany, in that strange country of frozen marshes and endless plains,but to pass over eighteen months which I spent not without profit tomyself in the Pole's service, seeing something of war in hisLithuanian campaigns, and learning much of men and the world, whichhere, to say nothing of wolves and bears, bore certain aspects notcommonly visible in Warwickshire. I pass on to the early autumn of1558, when a letter from the Duchess, who was at Wilna, was brought tome at Cracovy. It was to this effect:

  "Dear Friend: Send you good speed! Word has come to us here of anenterprise Englandward, which promises, if it be truly reported to us,to so alter things at home that there may be room for us at our ownfiresides. Heaven so further it, both for our happiness and the goodof the religion. Master Bertie has embarked on it, and I have takenupon myself to answer for your aid and counsel, which have never beenwanting to us. Wherefore, dear friend, come, sparing neither horse norspurs, nor anything which may bring you sooner to Wilna, and yourassured and loving friend, Katherine Suffolk."

  In five days after receiving this I was at Wilna, and two months laterI saw England again, after an absence of three years. Early inNovember, 1558, Master Bertie and I landed at Lowestoft, having madethe passage from Hamburg in a trading vessel of that place. We stoppedonly to sleep one night, and then, dressed as traveling merchants, weset out on the road to London, entering the city without accident orhindrance on the third day after landing.