CHAPTER III
THE KING'S MARRIAGE CONTRACT
Bidding the woman be seated, and going straight to the room we calledthe library, I knocked at the door.
"Who is there?" asked my father.
"It is I, Roland."
My father opened the door, and looked at me questioningly. I saw thatthe woman Katharine Harcomb was standing by the chair on which she hadsat during the time I had been in the room; but the hard defiant look inher eyes had gone. Rather I thought I saw fear, almost amounting toterror in them. Evidently my father had been speaking about matterswhich moved her mightily. She no longer bore the expression of one whowould make her own terms, but rather as one who lived under the shadowof a great fear.
"You are back soon Roland," said my father, "it is not an hour since youleft us."
"Nay," I replied, "but I met an old woman from St. Paul's Cross who wascoming hither, who declared she must see Katharine Harcomb."
The woman gave a start as I spoke.
"Where is she?" she cried, "let me see her without delay."
"Tarry a little," said my father; "tell me more of this, Roland."
So without more ado I told him of my meeting with the dame, and of whathad passed between us.
"I would speak to her, I would speak to her alone!" cried KatharineHarcomb, like one bereft of her senses, and she made for the doorway asif to pass me. But my father closed the door quickly and seemed to bedeep in thought. A moment later I saw that he had made up his mind.
"Have any of the kitchen wenches seen her?" he asked.
"Nay," I replied. "I myself opened the door, and she is waiting in thehall."
"Then do you bring her here, Roland, and afterward do you leave usagain."
I have no doubt I showed my disappointment at this, for I was eager tounderstand the meaning of it all. My father took but little heed,however, so doing his bidding I went to the hall, where the woman wasstill sitting.
It was at this time I called to mind that I had not heard her name, sowithout first telling her to follow me where my father was I saidquietly, "What is your name, good dame?"
"Name," she replied, "when Katharine Harcomb knows that Mistress Waltersis here she will not keep me waiting."
"That is well," I replied; "will you follow me?" But although I spokequietly my heart beat quickly, for I felt sure that she was in some wayconnected with Lucy Walters, whose son, Katharine Harcomb said, was thenext heir to the throne of England.
No sooner had the library door opened than I saw the two women exchangeglances, but I had no opportunity of noticing more, for my father gaveme a look which told me that I must leave them alone, which I did muchto my impatience.
I did not go far away, however. It is true I left the house, for cool asthe night had become the air seemed stifling, so I stepped on to thegrass outside, and began to walk up and down in the light of the window,behind which I knew my father and the two women were. How long I stayedthere I know not, but it must have been more than an hour, for I noticedthat the moon which stood high in the heavens when I went out haddropped behind the trees. In a sense the time seemed long. To a ladbarely twenty-three, to be kept away from the knowledge of a secretwhich promised to vitally affect his future, was calculated to multiplyevery minute into five. Nevertheless I had so much to think about, thatI thought but little of the time, and that in spite of my impatience.The mystery of the box containing the marriage contract between the newking and Lucy Walters, and the woman's request that I should go on avoyage of discovery kept me wondering so much, that at times I almostforgot that I knew very little of the whole business, and that my fatherwas even then talking about these things with the two women who had insuch an unaccountable way entered my life.
The moon had sunk far behind the trees when I was startled by the loudnoises of those within the house. A minute later I heard my father'svoice.
"Roland, my son."
I entered the house again, and soon found myself in the room where I hadleft the two women. I could see that something of importance had passedbetween them. The woman Katharine Harcomb seemed much wrought upon,while in her eyes was a look which might mean anger or terror.
I looked from one to the other questioningly, for I was eager to knowwhat had been said.
"Roland, my son," said my father, "you have long complained of idleness.You will have no need to complain longer."
I did not speak, although many questions came into my mind.
"Ay," cried the old woman, "and what is done must be done quickly and insecret, for remember the Duke of York is already at work. He knows thatmy grandson will be the lawful heir to the throne, and if he can findthe marriage contract, my poor Lucy's child will be kept out of hisrights."
"You mean the new king's brother?" I asked, for I was somewhat takenback by the vehemence of the dame's speech.
"Ay, who else?" she replied. "If Charles dies, will he not claim thecrown? Already it is said that he speaks of what he will do when he iscrowned."
"As to that," I made answer, "are not his chances small? He is but threeyears younger than the king, and may not live as long. Besides, Charlesmay marry again."
"He will," cried the dame, "he will, but there will be no children."
"How do you know?" I asked.
"I do know, and that is enough," she replied. "Charles will never have achild which shall be heir to the throne of England save only the son ofmy daughter Lucy."
I took but little notice of this speech, although the dame uttered itwith much warmth. I imagined that in spite of the severe measures whichhad been taken with witches, and those who professed to foretell thefuture, she had either consulted some of these people, or was perchanceherself a "wise woman." Not that I paid much heed to these things, formy father, although he denied not that some had it in their power toreveal the future, had generally made light of their professions, andhad taught me to treat them with scorn.
"Be that as it may," I said, "you have it that the new king married yourdaughter."
"Ay, I hold to that," she cried, "and poor and humble as I seem to be, Isay that I am grandmother to him who should be king of England when hisfather dies."
"That remains to be proved," I said, for I was eager to get back to thequestion which had been broached by Katharine Harcomb when first we hadmet earlier in the evening.
"Ay, that remains," replied the dame, angrily I thought; "and it is byyou, Master Roland Rashcliffe, that this is to be done."
"But why have you chosen me?" I asked, for young though I was, ay andeager to undertake any work which meant movement, and romance, I couldnot help asking why I among all others should be chosen for this work.
"You shall know some day Roland," said my father. "It is enough for youto know now you have a great work to do, a work which if successfullydone will make you a power in England."
"But what is it?" I asked somewhat impatiently, for it seemed to me thatI was asked to do something the nature of which was hidden from myeyes.
"To bring hither the marriage contract," he replied.
"Ay, but where is it?"
"It is in England," replied Katharine Harcomb, and then she looked at mewith keen, searching eyes.
At this I doubt not I made an impatient gesture, for truly they seemedto regard me as a child who might not be trusted.
"Nay, be not angry," said my father, almost gently I thought. And thissurprised me, for although I was a man in years he had not ceased toexpect absolute and unquestioning obedience from me. In truth he heldstrongly that every man should be complete master in his house, and thatno one should dare to dream of questioning his will.
But if I was not angry I was impatient. I had been on the tip-toe ofexpectation for hours, I had been told that I had a great work to do andyet I had only received hints as to how that work was to be done. For tobe told that the marriage contract was in England was to tell menothing, as any one can see. Still I held my peace and waited, wonderingwhat was to come next.
; "The marriage took place at a place called The Hague," said the old damewith downcast eyes, "away across the sea in that outlandish countrycalled Holland. It was performed in secret by a Papist priest. Thepriest had to swear that he would never reveal the marriage,nevertheless my daughter Lucy, for the sake of her good name, so cajoledthe priest that he drew up the contract and gave it to her, unknown tothe king. For fear it should be taken from her she determined to placeit in safe keeping."
At this the woman ceased speaking, while I, who had been waiting forsome news which would give me something like a reason for action, feltas though she were conjuring up a story.
"This showed," she went on presently, "that my daughter was not foolishas some have said, neither was she careless of her good name."
"But to whom did she give this precious document?" I asked, "and whereis it now?"
"She gave it one in whom she trusted," said the dame sourly. "But hebetrayed her trust. He found out the value of the paper, and brought itto England. Since then it hath changed hands again; but KatharineHarcomb hath discovered where it is now."
"Where?" I asked eagerly.
"It is at the house of Master Elijah Pycroft, who lives within fivemiles of Folkestone town," said Katharine Harcomb.
"How do you know?" I asked.
"I have been told by one who knows," she replied mysteriously.
"And who is Master Elijah Pycroft?" I asked again, for the wholebusiness seemed to be as unsubstantial as a vapour cloud.
"Ah, it is easy to tell you who he is, but difficult to say what he is,"replied the woman. "But there be many stories told about him. Some sayhe hath sold himself to the devil, others that he is at the head of agang of highwaymen, and that although he never appears among them, it ishe who gives them information and shelters them when they are in danger.I have also been told that he is a Papist who is a servant of the Pope,and is plotting to bring England back to Popery again. But it is he whohath the contract, and it is he who will make use of it, if it be nottaken from him. Some have it that the priest who married Lucy Walters toKing Charles is in league with him."
Now this seemed to be a cock-and-bull story, and yet it had enough ofmeaning to set my nerves a-tingling again.
"What is the name of the priest?" I asked. "Is his home at The Hague?Because he is the man to find out first of all. If he confesses to themarriage, then----"
"Do you dare to doubt that my Lucy was a lawful wedded wife?" cried theold dame angrily. "She that is dead now, poor child. Why think ye thatthe young King's mother, the old dowager queen, would have taken the boyif there was no marriage?"
"Still it would be well to find him out," I urged. "Do you know hisname?"
"That I do," cried she. "He is a French priest, and was in Holland onlyby stealth, seeing that the people who live in Holland do hate thepriests so much owing to their past sufferings. But Lucy told me hisname, she did, ay, she told me when she was in England before they puther in the Tower. For my Lucy was a Catholic at heart, being brought tothat way of thinking while she was in those foreign parts. He told herhis name, and told her where he lived."
"Ah," I said, "that is better. Tell me, good dame."
"He lives at Boulogne," said the woman, "and his name is Father PierreRousseau, and I have been told that his church is the Church of St.Antony; but of that I am not sure."
But here at last was something definite to go upon. Boulogne was only afew hours' sail from English shores, and if Father Pierre Rousseau livedthere he could be easily found out. I imagined that it would be easy tofind out whether the woman's story were true or false, and upon thisdiscovery a plan of action could be formed.
After this we fell to talking again, but beyond what I have writtendown, little of import could be gathered. I saw that much heed was paidto old wives' stories if they agreed with the desires of the women, butas to well proved facts there seemed nothing besides these two things.Still this was something. I could quickly find out whether Father PierreRousseau were flesh and blood, while the discovery of Master ElijahPycroft should also be easy.
Had I been older, and known more of the ways of the world, I should, Idoubt not, have asked many more questions, but by this time my mind wasall aflame with the prospect of something to do, while the nature of mywork was all that a youth might ask for. Neither did I trouble much asto why I should be chosen. My father had told me that I should know someday, and with this I was fain content. I had a work to do, and that wasenough.
"It may be that this priest knows more than he has told you," I cried atlength; "my first business therefore will be to go to Boulogne, andafter that to seek out Master Elijah Pycroft."
My father nodded his head approvingly, and yet I thought I saw doubt inhis eyes.
"But what about the coming of the king?" I went on. "You told me onlyto-day that we must go to Dover to meet him, and if he comes to Englandsoon, there will be no time for me to set out on my journey beforeseeing him."
"The king will not arrive for two weeks," replied my father.
"Two weeks?" I said questioningly.
"Ay, two weeks. This dame hath it, that according to messages which havebeen received in London town he will not come until the twenty-seventhor the twenty-eighth day of the month. There will therefore be time, iffortune favours you, to do much of your work before he comes hither."
Now being hot of blood, and not being aware of the many things whichmight hinder me, I was content with this reply, and determined not tofail being at Dover when the king should land.
Without wasting time by retailing what was said further, I hasten on tosay that by break of day on the following morning I was on my horse'sback, clad in my best attire, on my way to Folkestone town, whither Ihoped to get a passage to the coast of France. I was in gay spirits. Ihad pistols in my holsters, a sword by my side, and more money in mypouch than I ever hoped my father would give. Servant I had none, andthat for two reasons. The first was, there was no man in my father'shouse who was fitted for such a post, even although I were rich enoughto keep him; but more than this, it was deemed best that I should goquietly and alone, so that no one should suspect what my business mightbe. Servants, as all the world knows, have a way of talking about theirmasters' business, and if I had one he might unwittingly endanger me inmy work.
My father had spoken gaily and confidently to me on my departure.
"I shall be at Dover on the twenty-sixth day of the month," he said. "Ishall make my way to the _Fox and Hounds Inn_, and thither you must comeand meet me, if your affairs allow you."
To this I gladly assented, thinking of the things I might have to tellhim by that time.
"And mark you, Roland," continued my father earnestly, "be wary and boldin this matter. If you succeed, you will have such power at yourcommand that even the new king will not be able to deny you what youask. But be bold, my lad, and be wary. Speak but few words, and when youspeak impart but as little information as possible. Ask questionswithout seeming to ask them, and ask them in such a way as to befoolthose you ask. Never allow want of courage to keep you from obtainingwhat you desire. If you have to strike, strike hard. Be careful of yourcompanions. Trust no man with your secrets. Remember that in ninety-ninetimes out of a hundred every man hath his own ends to serve, and if youare not eager and brave another will outdo you. Don't expect gratitude,and never trust any party or faction. Had I acted upon the advice I amgiving you now, I should not be called 'landless Rashcliffe,' and youwould not be a poor man's son. God be with you."
It was with these words ringing in my ears that I set my face towardsLondon town on a bright May morning, and although it lay fully twelvemiles from my home, I saw St. Paul's Church before seven o'clock, soearly was I in the starting.
My heart was strangely light, I remember, for although I was much in thedark concerning my mission, its very nature stirred my blood, and mademe fearless at coming difficulties. Nay, I rejoiced in them: who wouldnot, when the fate of the country depended on my success? To find theking's marr
iage contract, and thus alter the succession to the crown ofEngland! Surely that were enough to give nerve to a letterlessploughboy, much less the only son of the bravest gentleman in the countyof Essex.
So early was I in London town that I had to wait fully an hour before Icould get breakfast, but this I presently obtained at an inn which stoodclose by Ludgate, and within sight of Fleet Prison.
I found that the talk of every one was concerning the coming of the newking, and every man seemed to be on the tip-toe of expectationconcerning the revelries which were to take place when he appeared.
"Ay," said the innkeeper to me, "I know that Old Nol made the Englishfeared the world all o'er, while never such an army was ever known ashe led to battle; but what of that? He wanted to turn the whole landinto Independent meeting houses. He wanted every man to turnpsalm-singer, and would have none about him but those who spoke thePuritan cant. If ever a man loved to see a cock-fight, or a bull baited,he was treated like a murderer, while no man dared to drink as anEnglishman should drink. But that is all over now. The king loves hiswine and his pleasure even as a king should. That's why he could not dowith the sour-faced Scots. When he comes we shall be able to drinkagain, and these psalm-singing chaps will have to bark at back doors.Old Drury will have its fun, and a man will be able to speak to a prettywoman without being placed in the lock-up."
"Think you that aught will be done to those who fought against the newking's father?" I asked.
"Ay, that is what people say. Men have it that every Puritan will bedragged out of his house, and every man who fought against his sacredMajesty's person will be hanged. As for these Independents, well,already they who carried their heads so high be slinking along back wayslike whipped dogs. Ah well, it is right. Let us live a merry life, andGod save the king!"
Presently, as I went towards the river, I found out that the man hadspoken truly: I saw men clad in sober-coloured garments talking one toanother, as though some calamity were near. And this was no wonder, forpresently, as the number of the people in the streets increased I sawthat these same men were howled at by the mob. Some pointed to theBibles which hung from their girdles, and called out "Pharisees,hypocrites!" Others again cried out "Psalm-singing rogues!" while othersthreatened them with the stocks and the pillory when the king came.
"It becomes worse each day," I heard one of these sober-clad men say toanother.
"Ay the Scriptures be fulfilled; and the devil is unloosed."
"The people of God will fare badly, methinks."
"Nevertheless, the new king hath promised that every man shall beforgiven for what he hath done."
"The new king! The son of Charles Stuart, a traitor and a liar whom ourgreat Oliver beheaded! As well expect mercy from a wolf."
"Hush, man! If we be heard we shall be taken note of. Let us be wise asserpents and harmless as doves."
And this kind of thing I found everywhere as I rode through Londonstreets. On the one hand was a kind of lawless joy, which prevailedgreatly; and on the other fearful foreboding as to the coming days.
But I stayed not long in London, for I was eager to make my way toFolkestone. The wedding contract hidden in the black box was more to methan the rejoicings of the Royalists, or the fears of the Separatists.
It took me two days to reach Folkestone; indeed, I did not reach thistown till the evening of the second day. Moreover, the second day of myjourney had been rainy, and I was both wet and tired when I reached the_Barley Sheaf Inn_, which looked homely and comfortable, for the which Iwas very thankful. As the evening was rainy, I thought I shouldperchance be the only traveller; but no sooner had the ostler taken myhorse from me than I saw two persons ride up, which interested megreatly. Perhaps this was because they both seemed anxious to hide theirfaces. The one was, as far as I could judge, a strongly-built man, butof what age I could not judge; the other was a woman, clad from head tofoot in a long cloak. Moreover, she wore a hood, which almost hid herface. Nevertheless, I caught one glimpse of it as she passed in at thedoor. It was as pale as death, while her eyes were full of terror.
"Private rooms," said the man, "and that without delay."
After they had passed out of sight I fell to wondering who they were;but I never dreamed then that their fate would be linked with mine insuch a wondrous way.
The Coming of the King Page 3