Fair Blows the Wind (1978)

by L'amour, Louis - Talon-Chantry

  But first I must sell what I had already written.

  With morning I donned my best and went forth, to seek out Richard Field or some other printer, carrying with me the roll of foolscap on which I had writtenThe Merry Damber.

  Field was young. He had but lately married the widow of the man to whom he had been apprenticed and was ambitious as well as shrewd. If I failed with him, there were others. All belonged, as indeed they must, to the Stationers’ Company, incorporated in 1557, and none was allowed to practice the art of printing unless he was of that organization. Each publication must be licensed by the government, and strict control was maintained over what was published.

  Field’s shop was in Blackfriar’s and I made the best of my way there. He was opening the door when I arrived. Young though I knew he was, I was startled by the fact that he was scarce older than I. He looked quickly at me and then glanced at the roll of manuscript under my arm. “You are early about,” he said, not unpleasantly.

  “Some call upon heaven when they arise,” I replied cheerfully, “I call upon Field.”

  “What is it then?”

  “An account of cozenage and chicanery along the highroads,” I said.

  He opened the door and waved me inside. “And have you knowledge of such things? You look the gentleman.”

  “I have some experience of swords,” I said, “and one teacher was a gypsy. He told many a tale. Others come from people along the way.”

  “Sit you.” He glanced at me. “Will you have a glass?” Then shrewdly he said, “You are Irish?”

  “I am lately from the Hebrides,” I said. “I am sometimes taken for Welsh.”

  “No matter,” he said pleasantly. He picked up my manuscript and glanced at it. “Well, you waste no time. Into the story at once.”

  He read on, and I offered no comment, and did not interrupt. “Perhaps,” he said, after a bit, “perhaps.” He looked up at me, suddenly, sharply. “Who directed you to me?”

  “I believe it was Robin Greene … or perhaps Tosti Padget.”

  “Ah, Tosti,” he shook his head, “much talent but no perseverance, and that is the truth of it. He writes well but finishes very little. He chops and changes.” He looked up at me. “My old master, George Bishop, used to say that writing was not only talent, but it was character, the character of the writer. Many are called, he would say, but few are chosen, and it is character that chooses them. In the last analysis it is persistence that matters.”

  He put down the manuscript. “There is something here we can use. It is light, gay, witty, and it smacks of the road.” He looked at me sharply. “You say you know the road?”

  “Somewhat.”

  “Ah? Yes, I suppose so. I am myself from Stratford. I often watched the gypsies there, and the peddlers.” He tapped my manuscript. “This rings true.”

  “You will buy it then?”

  “A moment! Do not hasten too swiftly. You need money?”

  I shrugged. “I do not need money, not at the moment. I dowant money. Much money.”

  He smiled. “There is not much in this. Writers about London are a starveling lot. A good playwright such as Master Robert Greene, whom you mentioned, he will get but five or six pounds for a good play. And he, along with Kyd, is at the top of them.”

  “I was not thinking of continuing a writer, yet I have some other things. Do you know Rafe Leckenbie?”

  He sat back and stared hard at me. “Aye, and who does not who knows aught of the streets? I know him not, but of him … yes.”

  “I know him. What would you say to a complete revelation of his activities? All the plots and machinations of the man.”

  “You know whom you deal with? Leckenbie is no catch-penny rogue but a thoroughgoing rascal. He’s into river piracy and the lot.”

  “And a devil of a fine swordsman, too.”

  “Ah? I have heard of that, but doubted it. There is a rumor that he killed a gentleman in a duel shortly after he first appeared in London, and another one in Kent.”

  “I know nothing of that, but he is a superlative swordsman.”

  “You speak from experience?”

  “I do.”

  “Yet you live?”

  “That was long ago, and in another place than this. I was not as skillful then as I now am … yet I narrowly escaped.”

  “I see … yet you would dare this? He would set his men upon you. Not upon me, for I am of the company and no man would be such a fool. Yet I fear for you.”

  “Let that be my worry.”

  Field tapped his fingers on the manuscript. “Very well then. Two pounds for this, four pounds for the Leckenbie story—if it is true or nearly so. But do not think I shall pay so much again, for there are not many stories of the likes of Rafe Leckenbie.”

  “I understand.”

  He paid me two pounds and I took it gratefully. It was a goodly sum for the time, and evidence that he thought well of what I had written. Yet I was not misled, for the stories I had written down had been told and retold by generations of Irishmen and belonged to all who heard them. They had stood the test of time. Yet never had they been in print, for the Irish were not permitted to publish. They were tales told in taverns. I might do another as well, for there were many such stories, but that would probably be the end of it unless I could enrich my knowledge by talking to road people and gypsies.

  Where was Kory, I wondered. I could use him now, and could pay him, too.

  Tucking away the two pounds with my small store, I went back to the inn, loitering along the way. I saw nothing of anyone I knew, yet I did see a rogue or two who seemed to be following me.

  Were they Cutting Ball’s men? Those of Leckenbie? Or both?

  For a week I loitered about the White Hart, the Red Lion, the Mermaid, the Three Tuns, the Golden Lion, King Harry Head, as well as the Bear and the Ragged Staff. I went from one tavern to the next, buying a glass here, or just sitting and watching, sharing a drink with some wandering rascal. But I was listening all the while.

  Usually, Ijust listened. If the soil seemed fertile I might drop the seed of Leckenbie’s name, and then sit back to hear what might be said. It was a way to learn, and I learned much.

  Soon I learned that Leckenbie directed the affairs of threestalling kens, or places where stolen goods might be sold, each in a different quarter of London. He also had several stables where horses might be let to pads, as highwaymen were called. He had a fist into everything, and he was making enemies all over London. Cutting Ball was not alone in disliking Leckenbie or his ways. It was simple to see that he was a master scoundrel.

  Swiftly then, I wrote. It was not the whole story, certainly, but it was enough. I entitled itRafe Leckenbie, Thieves’ Master And Master Thief. Then I hastened to Blackfriar’s and put it into the hands of Master Field.

  He looked at it, swore a little, and pressed on to read further. “I will take it,” he said at last, “but do you look to yourself, Tatton Chantry. Once this is on the street your life will be worth next to nothing.” He snapped his fingers. “Not that!”

  “Four pounds,” I said, “and I’ll wear a loose blade.”

  “You will have it,” he said, “but I fear for you.”

  And in truth, I feared for myself.

  20

  Now that I had come upon a means of earning a bit I did not neglect the pen, but my next two attempts failed of acceptance. These had neither the wit nor the novelty of my first successes. Yet it was about this time that the Leckenbie piece was published abroad. In a day it became the talk of the town. When I went to the tavern below, the place was abuzz with it, and not knowing who might be the author, they were of one mind: that he had but a short life left to him, once Leckenbie saw the piece.

  Cutting Ball came hurriedly to the tavern. “What, Tatton Chantry! Is it you who has done this thing? You have destroyed him!”

  “That was my purpose, but we do not know yet what may happen. We can but wait and see.”

  “All
London will be about his ears,” Ball insisted. “And to think that you have done this! A mere lad! And with a pen, too, and with no sword or mob or soldiers!”

  Yet that day went slowly by and nothing happened, nor were any of Leckenbie’s men seen about, nor on the second day. There was no move against him by the Queen’s men: there was only talk. On the third day, well armed and with Ball’s men about, I ventured into the street.

  This time I was bound for Blackfriar’s with another tale of theMerry Damber, which had proved successful. I sold the piece to Masterfield for a pound, and turned about, planning to go at once to my own tavern.

  Suddenly I found myself face to face with Leckenbie!

  He stopped upon the street before me. My hand went to my sword. “If it is to be, let it be here,” I said.

  He laughed. “You mean then to fight me?” he roared, laughing the while. “Do not be a fool! You have done me only the greatest service! Why, had I ordered the piece written it could not have been better!”

  He was chuckling and cheerful. I stared at him incredulously. “Take your hand from your sword!” he said. “I shall certainly kill you one day, be sure of that. But not today, when you have just done for me what I could not do for myself!”

  “What do you mean?”

  He chuckled again. “Come! I’ll split a bottle with you, and a haunch of beef as well! Don’t you see? You have made me sound so powerful, so evil, so revengeful that my enemies are trembling! A dozen thieves have come to my stalling kens whom I never laid eyes on before, although I knew them well by reputation. Suddenly I have gained respect in quarters where there was little before! At one fell swoop you have made me the strongest man in London! And to think that was all it needed! I am a fool, Chantry, a double-dyed fool! Now I have no need to destroy enemies who believed themselves o’ermatched and have come to me, pleading the wish to join me! What I could not have done in months, you have done in an instant! It is magic!”

  We sat down across the table from each other. The confusion in my thoughts cleared. In believing I was destroying a monster, I had created a worse one. In speaking of his strength, I had made him seem more fearful than he was, and frightened all who would oppose him.

  He bought good wine and filled a glass for me, and the beef we had was the best, the tenderest cut of all. He served me from his own blade and laughed, his face flushed from wine and laughter.

  “Oh, you have done it, Chantry! There’s a string of bawdy houses that I’ve long wanted. Ill-kept places, but fat with profits. Now they have asked my protection, and they shall have it. Oh, they’ll have it, all right, and a fat payment through the nose for it, too!

  “Come! Drink up, Chantry! And be rid of those men of Cutting Ball’s! You’ll not need them more. And as for him, this will destroy him, too, or nearly so!”

  As we ate he ticked off the things the unwonted publicity had brought to him. There were some men he had threatened who had not been convinced of his strength, yet before he needed to prove it, my piece had appeared and done the task even better.

  “Much thanks, Chantry! By the Lord Harry, I am glad I did not kill you!” He reached into his sash and tossed a sack of gold upon the table. “There! Have that! It is little enough for what you have done!”

  “Keep it,” I replied shortly. “I’ll have none of it, for I meant to destroy you.”

  He laughed again, his eyes bright with malice. “Of course you did! Think you I do not know that? But bother the reason! It is the effect that matters, and the payment there is small enough for what you have done.”

  There was nothing to do but put a good face on it and think of what I should do next. Cheerful as he was, I could only doubt what he believed, for whatever effect this might have upon evildoers, it was sure to result in some sort of action by those in authority. Unless, of course, they were too occupied with Ireland and worried about Spain to bother with the evil at their doors?

  “I have also readThe Merry Damber!” Leckenbie said. “It is a good piece, too! You had some tricks there even I had not thought of! Stay about London, Chantry, do! For you will only make things the better.”

  He gnawed on a bone, then put it aside. “Look you, Chantry, I am no fool. I know this dodge will not last forever, but by the time it has worn itself out I shall be rich. Yes, rich! And I shall have those about who need me but who are themselves in power. I will buy an estate, I will hire some such a one as you to say that all your words are balderdash, and will show myself a respectable gentleman. I will keep a carriage—for such will soon be the fashion, believe me—and I shall ride to the hounds and be knighted. You will see! My poor father was a country squire, and a good man, most of the time, but he was never knighted or noticed by anyone.

  “And two years hence, Tatton Chantry, I will no longer be heard of as such I now am. Two years I shall lie quiet while all this is managed by others. Then I shall reappear, hang a few of those who still oppose me, and within the third year I shall be received at court.

  “I have plotted well the route I shall take, and a better one can’t be found. I tell you this now so you can see it begin to happen. Unfortunately,” he smiled, “you’ll not be about to witness the climax. Although I shall miss you. I shall, indeed.”

  “You will never do it, Leckenbie,” I said quietly. “Before then I will show you up for the villain you are.”

  He chuckled. “Do what you will, the result will not be changed. Not one whit. Besides, what can it get you? A few shillings here, a few shillings there. Trifling sums, and the poorest of livings. Whilst I shall be rolling in wealth.”

  He leaned over the table toward me. “Already I have friends! I have power! There are those who sit high in the land who will pull strings for me! Do you think I can be taken? That I shall ever end in Newgate or Tyburn? I am too much needed. When they need something done, I see that it is done, whether here or across the water.

  “At this time I am a tool to them, to be used. But soon I shall change positions with them. Then they shall be the tools and I the user.”

  “You are ambitious,” I said, “and ambition may destroy you.”

  “Aye. ‘Tis a gamble, is it not?” The humor was gone from his eyes. “I know well the chance that I take, and the need they have of me. I must take each step with care. But you yourself have helped me, for they will read what you have written and measure my usefulness against what you have claimed for me. Now they will need more money when they come to me.”

  He pushed the gold toward me again. “Take it. Gold is a useful servant that never talks back. Had I hired you this could have gone no better, nor come at a better time.”

  He rested his powerful forearms on the table. His wrists were the thickest I had ever seen and his hands gave a sense of awful power. He was, in his own brutal way, a handsome man. His face suggested power and strength.

  He motioned to the waiter. “A bottle of sack,” he said. “Your best!”

  “Look you,” he said suddenly. “I like you not, nor you me, but yet you could help me. You are shrewd, and you fight well. Not well enough,” he added, “but well. Join me. I do not plan that you should become a thief, but rather an agent.”

  “A tool?” I suggested wryly.

  “We are all tools in one way or another.” He leaned toward me. “England is changing. Any man with his eyes and ears open knows it. We are coming to power. You shall see.

  “Spain is all-powerful now, but Spain has come upon wealth in the wrong way—too much, too quickly. It will destroy her. Slow growth builds caution into a man or a nation, but sudden wealth is a spoiler. Now gold comes to her by every ship, and the living is easy. The great fighting men who graduated from the ranks of the army that fought the Moors will disappear. The politicians and the courtiers will take over—the gentle ones, the conniving ones! They will rook the fighters out of all they have won. Men like Cortez, Pizarro, Alvarado, and De Soto will disappear, and in their place the weak ones, the ones grown fat on easy wealth, will come to po
wer.

  “We are a young country, yet very old. We have the men and we have the ships and we will win. There are ships to be built, and equipment to be supplied to the ships. The press gangs will be after men and more men.”

  “What has all that to do with you?”

  He shrugged, smiling. “I shall control it. The supplies will be bought from me or through me. As for the press gangs, I shall direct them.”

  “You?”

  He laughed. “Who else? Who could do it better? Of course, if we should happen to press into service a few of the gentry who did not want to go … we can always make an arrangement.”

  “And I?” I asked. “What role have you planned for me?”

  “To write when I need something written. You have made me out to be a king of thieves. Now I wish another broadside turned out. This one will deny that I am a thief, but will imply that I am a man of great but mysterious power. That I merely have a wide knowledge of what takes place and have been able to recover stolen goods from time to time. Protest that I am a good man but one who has great power in many quarters.”

  “I see. The thieves and the bawds have already had their message. Now you want to clean up the picture of yourself while implying you have still greater power.”

  “Exactly. And of course, when people come to me to recover their stolen goods, I shall recover them … for a price. I am sorry about the cost, but the man who reaches the thieves must be paid.”

  “And you will have it both ways. A friend to the thieves and a recoverer of stolen goods, and well paid by both.”

  He laughed with genuine amusement. “See how easy it is? In the end I shall be knighted and perhaps will stand for Parliament.

  “For you see, I shall also be serving Her Majesty. Even now there is talk in Spain of a great fleet of ships, an armada to sail against England. My spies tell me this, and I pass it on to those close to Her Majesty so that she also knows.”