Sir Ludar

by Talbot Baines Reed

  CHAPTER NINETEEN.

  HOW I WAS CONCERNED IN TREASON AND LOVE.

  The first words of the letter left me in no doubt as to who the writermight be.

  "To a certain Hollander, once my servant, and honoured still to live inmy memory. Know, my son of Neptune, fledgeling of the Nymphs, and half-brother to the Tritons, that he whom thou knewest once in Parnassus'grove (whither he himself led thy halting feet), respireth still insighs for beauty and exhalations of sweet verse. Know, too, that hehath of late composed a notable and admirable epic in praise of the Sun,which, if it please Heaven to bring him, ere the year fall, to London,thou mayest have the high honour of setting in print, thereby assistingat the birth of an immortal.

  "Know further, that after many bufferings from the jade Fortune, andtossing, such as ships ne'er endured on thy brawling element, myHollander, I am here in Chester, beloved of the Muse, yet ill-beholdento the men of the place, who, as the Mantuans their Maro, clapped me inward because forsooth I stirred the rabble with my moving measures. Themoon hath not kissed the golden locks of Galatea four times since I waslet out. Now is no zephyr freer than I--or emptier. Yet hath heavenneed of her needy sons, and the meanest of Olympus, denizens hath hispart to play amidst the earthlings. Know, then, that on the second dayafter I had ceased to eat my bread at her Majesty's cost, I met, ineager haste, a certain Irish Achilles who knoweth more of war thanverse, and whose arm is more terrible with the sword than is my handwith the pen. This Sir Ludar--such is gratitude and reverence!--_Otempora! O mores_!--would have given me the go-by, had I not stoodboldly in his way, that he might at least see how great an honour heavoided. When he saw me, to be brief, my Hollander, he honoured himselfby seeing in me the god Mercury, who beareth messages to the dim regionsof the earth. He bade me tell thee, by a means the receipt hereof willapprise thee, that the cause goeth perilously. What cause, I know not;but, be it what it may, it taketh him hence, on what, perchance, may behis last journey. He biddeth you remember your oath, and would have meadvertise you that one Merriman hath been heard of in these parts,travelling for London, with a party, of whom one is the lady of thecastle on the river, with her ward. He is a dark mysterious man, thisIrish wolf-hound of thine, my Hollander, and, did I not suspect him tohave a secret tooth for the olives of Parnassus, I had not thuscondescended to act as go between you. When I enquired of himconcerning her, that incomparable swan, that bright and shining star,that white snowflake, that Cupid's elder sister, my lady-love--to servewhom I counted as nought the perils of a certain fell voyage you wotof--when I enquired him of her, he asked me back, Did I desire toflounder in the castle moat? By which talk it appeared to me much carehath weakened his mind, and I misdoubt me his present journey bodes nogood. My Hollander, I beg not any man's bread, yet am I hard put to itto show the world that heaven doth not desert her favourites. If thepity of a 'prentice can reach from you to Chester, lend it me, I prayyou, as I sit here gazing into the empyrean for my next meal. If I may,I shall shorten the space betwixt us. Meanwhile, count for thyself alodging in at least one poetic breast, which is that of thy patron andfriend, Thomas Graves.

  "_Post Scriptum_: I have overtook my messenger--a poor country carrier--to tell thee strange news. This Ludar hath returned suddenly from hisjourney in the custody of a troop. I saw him marched through thestreets but just now, amid cries of 'Treason!' 'Away with him!' 'Hanghim!' sad to hear. The talk runneth that he is party in some greatconspiracy against her glorious Majesty, whose foes may Heaven confound!If it be true, then is our Achilles wounded in the heel, and is likeenough to journey from here to Tyburn free of charges. Farewell, fromthy well-wisher."

  This letter cast me into terrible woe; for it was plain by it that Ludarwas in mortal peril, and without a friend to help him. I could donaught, for I knew not where he was taken, or if I did, what could I,outside a stone wall, do for him within? Besides, the message about themaiden put a service on me I was bound to fulfil. Yet what could I do?

  Jeannette saw my trouble and shared it; and, being a shrewd lass,advised me to go to Will Peake and hear what was this news of a new-discovered treason, and who were in it?

  So I went and found the Bridge (Sunday as it was), in a flutter. WillPeake I could not see, but from another gossip I heard that news wascome of a terrible plot to murder her sacred Majesty and place on herthrone, with the help of Spanish rogues, the upstart Mary of Scotland.Many wild stories were afloat concerning the business. One, that not afew of her Majesty's trusted advisers were mixed in it; others, that theScotchwoman herself was prime mover; another, that it was the work ofthe Spanish king, whose armies were on the coast waiting the signal toland.

  But as we stood, there came a mighty shouting from the Tower Hill, and,running thither, we saw a man in a cart being conducted by twentyhorsemen to the prison. He was clad as a papist priest--yet, when Ilooked at him, I seemed to know his face.

  "Who goes there?" I asked of one who stood near.

  "The head and front of it all," said he; "a renegade priest, Ballard byname."

  "Who hath travelled," said another, "on this accursed business in thegarb of a soldier by the name of Captain Fortescue."

  "Fortescue!" cried I. "Why, to be sure, it was he! I knew I had seenhim."

  "You saw him, where? what know you of this?" asked several personsround, suspiciously. "If you be a friend of his, get you up on the cartbeside him."

  I had a mind to make a rush that way, if haply I might get a single wordwith the traitor as to where Ludar was. But I might as soon have triedto get within hail of the Scotch Queen herself, so closely was he fencedin.

  "He is no friend," growled I, "but a vile enemy and traitor, whom Iwould to God I had run through the body when I had the chance atCarlisle, months since."

  Then to avoid more questions and get away from the rabble, I hastenedback and told all to Jeannette. She was very grave. "What think younow?" she asked.

  "I can think nothing," said I, "save that, whatever has befallen Ludar,he could not knowingly be guilty of plotting against the life of awoman, even if she be the Queen herself. Jeannette," said I, "I couldno more believe that than I would believe you to be unkind or untrue."

  She smiled at that and said she, too, could not think so ill of thisLudar of mine.

  As the days passed, news came in thick and fast. The plot, we heard,was a devilish one to murder the Queen and her ministers, and giveEngland up to the heretic Spaniard. Men stood aghast as they heard ofit. Presently came word that the worst of the traitors were in hidingin London, being mostly young gentlemen of the Court, who had fed at thetable of the very Lady they plotted to slay. Try all I would, I couldhear nothing of Ludar. Nor durst I name him to my comrades, for fear Ishould bring him mischief thereby.

  One day in the middle of August it was, a man came into our shop in hothaste to tell Master Walgrave that the company had been taken, hidden ina barn in Harrow. Never shall I forget the joy of the City as the newsspread like wildfire through the wards. No work did we 'prentices dothat day. We marched shouting through the streets, calling forvengeance on the Queen's enemies, and waiting till they should bebrought in, on their way to the Tower.

  As for me, my joy was mingled with strange trouble; for, if Ludar shouldbe among them--

  "The leader of them is one Babington," said Will Peake, "and besides himare half-a-dozen dogs as foul--English, all of them."

  "Save one," said another, "who I hear is Irish."

  "Irish!" cried I, as white as paper. "What is his name?"

  "Not Dexter," said the fellow, looking at me in amaze. "Why, man, whatails you?"

  "Tell me his name, as you love me," said I.

  "How should I know the name of every cowardly hound that walks thestreets? Go and ask them that can tell you."

  I walked away miserable, and waited at the Aldersgate to see theprisoners come by.

  When at last the cry was raised, I scarcely durst look up, for fear thatamong the
m should tower the form of Ludar. But when I lifted my eyesand saw only six hang-dog men, who held their hands to their ears tokeep out the yelling of the mob, and shrunk closer to their guards tosave them from a worse fate than the hangman's, the beating of my hearteased. For he was not amongst them. So joyful was I that I could evenlend my voice for a while to the general cry, and, when night fell,bring my torch to the flaming barrels that blazed on Finsbury Fields.

  Yet I came home that night ill at ease. Fresh news had arrived alreadythat other men had been taken in the country--amongst them, certain whohad been in attendance on the Scotch Queen. Yet, ask all I would, neveronce could I hear of Ludar by name, or of any man resembling him.

  A month later we 'prentices had another holiday, this time to witnessthe end of that terrible business on Tyburn Hill. 'Twas a horriblesight--I would I could forget it--to see those traitors die, foul astheir crime had been. Yet what sickened me the most was to think thatLudar perchance might presently follow to the same fate, if indeed hehad not already shared it.

  But no news came. The weeks slipped by. Men ceased to talk ofBabington, and spoke rather of the coming trial of the Scotch Queen forher life. And presently a time came when they even ceased to speak ofthat. And all the while, never a whisper came to me of Ludar.

  Now you are not to think that all this time I had forgot the messagecontained in the poet's letter concerning Captain Merriman and themaiden. Far from it. I haunted Whitehall after work hours in the hopeof seeing or hearing something of them. But all in vain. It would havebeen easier to hear of Ludar, I think, than to get any news of an Irishmaiden and her step-dame at Court, or of a swaggering captain.

  "What is that to thee?" said most whom I asked; and others pricked meout of their company with their swords.

  But late in the year, chance put in my way what all my pains had failedto procure.

  I remember, it was that same day that the news came to town that MaryQueen of Scots was condemned to die. London went mad with joy at thenews. For our pity of the woman was swallowed up in joy that the evildestiny of our country was mastered, and that our gracious Queen was tobe freed at one stroke from all her enemies. Be that as it may, weburned bonfires that night in Moorfields, and I had my mistress' leaveto take Jeannette with me to see the sport. For by this time the sweetmaid's lameness was nearly cured, and, like a prisoner newly uncaged,she loved to spread her wings a bit and go abroad.

  Had the arm she leaned on been that of Peter Stoupe instead of mine, Iwondered if she would have mended as fast as she did? I was a vaincoxcomb those days, and thought, no. Yet, for anything she said to meor I to her, we were still 'prentice and young mistress. Only, the dutyI owed her was my great joy; and the service she had a right to claim ofme, she sometimes prettily asked as a gift.

  'Twas a wild, weird scene--those hundreds of citizens lit up by thefierce glare of the bonfires, whose roar mingled with the shoutings, andwhose heat was less than the loyal fires which blazed in our bosoms. Icould feel Jeannette's hand tighten on my arm as the rabble surgedcloser round; and presently, seeing her tired and frightened, I made away for her through the crowd.

  As we reached the skirts there reeled against us a drunken man who, hadI not caught him in my arm, would have fallen against my young mistressand done her some hurt. He was not so drunk but that, when I set him onhis feet and gave him a kick or two, he was able to stand upright andtalk. And at the first word he uttered, I recognised the voice of myold acquaintance, Tom Price, the Captain's man; whom I had seen lastwith his master the day Alexander McDonnell fell outside Dunluce.

  So dark was it away from the fire, that but for his voice I might nothave known him. Certainly he, as he then was, could hardly know me.

  "Patience," whispered I to Jeannette, "here is a man can give us somenews. He shall not hurt you; only I must speak with him. Hold close tome."

  And to guard her better, I put an arm around her, while I parleyed withthe sergeant.

  "Come, comrade," said I, concealing my voice as best I could, "'tis timeyou were in quarters. The Captain will be calling for thee."

  "Captain me no captains. Stand thee still, steady--when came he--ugh?"

  "He'll be here to look for thee I warrant, an thou go not home."

  "Got back? what for? when came-- Harkee, comrade--keep it snug--he'llnot find her--he, he! he'll not find her."

  "Not he," said I, making a guess. "We know where she is, though. Eh,Tom?"

  "He, he! do we! So doth that other varlet. But, keep it mum, comrade--the wall is none too high, but my Captain may climb it."

  "Ay," said I, "but he must needs find it first. Eh? That will troublehim, eh? honest Tom."

  "Honest! thou art right, comrade. Ere he learn where she be I'll--I'll--harkee, friend I like not that other varlet. What needs she withtwo of us? Am not I man enough? eh? thou and I, without him? By mysoul, comrade, I will slay him."

  "So, he is there, too, where she is?"

  "Ho, he! Jack Gedge in a convent? ho, he! Ne'er such luck for him, orthee, or me; eh? ho, ho! Jack in a convent? No, but, comrade," here hetook my arm and whispered, "he ne'er quitteth the city, and no man canget at her but he knows it. 'Tis a very bulldog. Hang him, comrade,hang him, I say."

  "Ay, I am with you there," said I. "What right hath he to stand betwixther and honest folk like you and me?"

  "Harkee, friend. This varlet, they say, was appointed to the service byone--hang the name of him--an Irish knave that made eyes at her. Youknow him--"

  "Ay, ay," said I. "Lubin, or Ludar, or some such name."

  "Thou hast it. Ludar. Well, as I told thee, this varlet is appointedto the charge by this Lu-- Say it again, comrade."

  "Ludar," said I.

  "Ay, Ludar. Well, this varlet, as I--"

  "And where is the villain now?"

  "Why, as I told thee, dullard, he lurks in Canterbury city hard by theconvent--and though 'twas I helped her there--I or thou, I forget ifthou didst assist--I say, though 'twas I--or I or thou--or I and thou--helped her there, this dog now keepeth guard like a very bulldog."

  "Well," said I, trembling to have so much news, "may be he doeth noharm. The lady oweth more to thee than him."

  "Ay--'twas a deft trick, spiriting her thither--and the Captain littleknows 'twas honest Tom Price baulked him. Not but--harkee,"--here hewhispered again--"not but the lady did not make it worth the while, eh?I have a noble of it left still, comrade. As I told thee, the Captainknoweth naught. He! he! he hath followed her hither and thither. But,mercy on us, he'd as soon look in the Fleet Ditch as in Canterbury.Harkee, comrade, that other varlet is a knave. Hang him, I say. 'Twasthou and I helped her there--he knew naught till--how a plague found heus out? Honest friend, I pray thee slay me this dog."

  "Where in Canterbury shall I find him?" said I.

  "Thou knowest a certain tavern, or inn, or hostel by the sign of theOriflame, neighbour. Well, 'tis but a stone's-throw from the convent;and I warrant the sot will be not far away. Fetch me his head, comrade;and I vow thou shalt share my noble. Get thee gone."

  That moment Jeannette gripped my arm and pointed to a figure whichslouched away from us towards the fire. I got but one glimpse of him.He may have been anyone; for the crowd was spreading fast. YetJeannette and I both fancied the form was like that of Peter Stoupe,whom we had already seen once in the crowd that evening.

  "Poor Peter," said I, "no doubt he envies me my charge of you,Jeannette."

  She disengaged herself from my arm, and put her hand on my sleeve.

  "Let us begone," said she, uneasily. "I am sorry I came here."

  So I left Tom Price sitting on the grass, singing to himself; and fullof my great news, yet troubled at Jeannette's speech I walked with hersilently homewards.

  As we neared Temple Bar, I could not refrain from questioning her.

  "You are silent, Jeannette?" said I.

  "The better company for you," said she.

&nbs
p; "Are you tired?"

  "Yes."

  "And vexed?"

  "Yes."

  "Because Peter--if it was Peter--saw me with my arm around thee?"

  "He would not know that it was only because I feared the drunken man,"said she.

  "He would suspect me, instead, of being thy sweetheart?" asked I.

  "Ay," said she, "Peter hath a long tongue."

  "What if he suspect me aright, Jeannette?"

  I felt the hand on my arm give a little start, as she dropped her eyes,and quickened her flagging steps.

  She said nothing. But you might have heard the beating of my heart, asI looked down at her, and laid my hand on hers.

  "If Peter guessed aright," repeated I, "what then, Jeannette?"

  This time her hand lay very quiet, and her footsteps grew slower, tillat last they stood still.

  Then she lifted her head and looked me in the face.

  "Then, Humphrey, I should not mind what anybody said."

  So all was peace betwixt us two; and we were sorry when our walk wasended.