by G. A. Henty
“You are right, Ulf; I had not thought of that. That is indeed a difficulty, and one that I do not see how you can get over. Are you sure that he has not passed out by the main gate?”
“I have marked his walk and carriage closely, my lord. He steps along with a long stride, and unless he be a better mummer than I judge him to be, I should know him whether in a monk’s gown or a servitor’s cloak. It is no easy thing to change a knight’s stride into the shuffle of a sandalled monk, or the noiseless step of a well-trained servitor in a bishop’s palace.”
“You are a shrewd lad indeed, Ulf,” Wulf said warmly; “and I feel that you will fathom this matter if there be aught at the bottom. But, as you say, you cannot watch more than one place.”
“The other entrance is not altogether unwatched, my lord. The first day you gave me my orders I went to one of my cronies, who has shared with me in many an expedition when our master deemed that we were soundly asleep. Without, as you may be sure, giving any reason, I told him that I had come to believe that the Norman I pointed out to him was in the habit of going out in disguise, and that I was mightily curious to find whither he went and why, and therefore wanted him to watch, at the entrance behind the palace. I bade him mark the walk of the persons that went out, and their height, for the Norman is tall, and to follow any who might come out of lofty stature, and with a walk and carriage that seemed to accord ill with his appearance. So each evening, as soon as his house was closed and the lights extinguished, he has slipped out, as he knows how, and has watched till ten o’clock at the gate. It seemed to me that that would be late enough, and indeed the doors are closed at that hour.”
“You have done well, Ulf; but has not the boy questioned you as to your reasons for thus setting a watch on the Norman?”
“I have told him nought beyond what I have said, my lord. He may guess shrewdly enough that I should not myself take so much trouble in the matter unless I had more reason than I have given; but we are closely banded together, and just as I should do, without asking the reasons, any such action did he propose it to me, so he carried out my wishes. I cannot feel as sure as if I had watched him myself that Fitz-Urse has not passed out in disguise unnoticed, but I have a strong belief that it is so. At any rate, my lord, you can go away with the assurance that all that is possible shall be done by us, and that even if he pass out once or twice undiscovered there is good hope that we shall at last detect him.”
After again commending the boy, Wulf returned to the palace with Osgod.
“I feel half ashamed of having entertained a suspicion of Fitz-Urse on such slight grounds, Osgod.”
“I think you have done quite right, my lord. You know how the fellow gave a false report to the bishop of that quarrel with you. At any rate, should nothing come of it, no harm will have been done. As to the boys, so far from regarding it as a trouble, I feel sure that they view it as an exciting pleasure, and are as keenly anxious to detect the Norman going out in a disguise as you yourself can be. When they get tired of it they will give it up.”
Ulf, at any rate, was determined not to relax his watch during the absence of the king. The more he thought of it the more certain he felt that if Walter Fitz-Urse went out on any private business after nightfall he would use one or other of the entrances at the rear of the palace, and accordingly next day he arranged that one friend should watch the front entrance of an evening, while he himself took post behind. As soon as it was dark he lay down by the wall close to the entrance at which the servitors generally passed in and out. The moon was up but was still young, and the back of the palace lay in deep shadow; a projecting buttress screened him to a great extent from view, while by peeping round the corner he could watch those who came out and see them as they passed from the shadow of the building into the comparatively light space beyond.
Many came in and out. The evening was bitterly cold, and his teeth chattered as he lay, cautiously putting his head beyond the edge of the stonework every time he heard any one leaving the palace. The heavy bell had just struck eight, when a man wrapt up in a cloak passed out. He differed in no respect from many of those who had preceded him, save that he was somewhat taller. The hood of the cloak was drawn over his head. Ulf raised himself to his knees and gazed after the figure. The man was walking more slowly than the others had done, for most of them had hurried along as if in haste to get their errands finished and to be in shelter again from the keen wind.
“If that is Fitz-Urse, he is walking so as to avoid the appearance of haste in case anyone should be looking after him,” Ulf muttered to himself. “At any rate I will follow him, he is more like the Norman than anyone I have yet seen, though he carries his head forwarder and his shoulders more rounded.” As he watched him, the boy saw that as he increased the distance from the palace the man quickened his pace, and when he came into the moonlight was stepping rapidly along.
“That is my man,” Ulf exclaimed. “He knows well enough that no one is likely to be standing at the door, and thinks he need no longer walk cautiously.” Feeling sure that even if the man looked back he would not be able to see him in the shadow, he started forward at a run, paused before he reached the edge of the moonlight, and then, as soon as the figure entered a lane between some houses, ran forward at the top of his speed. The man was but a hundred yards in front of him when Ulf came to the entrance of the lane. Just as he turned into it the man stopped and looked round, and Ulf threw himself down by the side of a wall.
“That settles it,” he said to himself. “No one who had not a fear of being followed would turn and look round on such a night as this.”
Ulf was barefooted, for although he generally wore soft shoes which were almost as noiseless as the naked foot, he was dressed in rags, and a foot covering of any sort would have been out of place. Always keeping in the shade, having his eyes fixed on the man he was pursuing, and holding himself in readiness to leap into a doorway or throw himself down should he see him turn his head, he lessened the distance until he was within some fifty yards of the other. The man took several turns, and at last entered a long street leading down to the river. As soon as Ulf saw him enter it he darted off at full speed, turned down another lane, and then, when he got beyond the houses, and on to the broken ground that lay between them and the river, ran until he was nearly facing the end of the street which he had seen the man enter, and then threw himself down.
He had scarcely done so when he saw the figure issue from the street and strike across the open ground towards the water. Crawling along on his stomach Ulf followed him, until he halted on the bank. The man looked up and down the river, stamped his foot impatiently, and then began to walk to and fro. Presently he stopped and appeared to be listening; Ulf did the same, and soon heard the distant splash of oars. They came nearer and nearer. Ulf could not see the boat, for it was close under the bank, which was some twenty yards away from him, but presently when the boat seemed almost abreast of him the man on the bank said, “Where do you come from?”
“From fishing in deep water,” a voice replied.
“That is right, come ashore.”
The words were spoken by both in a language Ulf could not understand, and he muttered a Saxon oath. The thought that any conversation Fitz-Urse might have with a Norman would naturally be in that tongue had never once occurred to him. Three men mounted the bank. One shook hands with Fitz-Urse, the others had doffed their caps and stood listening bareheaded to the conversation between their superiors. It was long and animated. At first the stranger stamped his foot and seemed disappointed at the news Fitz-Urse gave him, then as the latter continued to speak he seemed more satisfied.
For fully half an hour they talked, then the men got into the boat and rowed away, and Fitz-Urse turned and walked back to the palace.
Ulf did not follow him. The meeting for which Fitz-Urse had come out had taken place, he would be sure to go straight back to the palace. Ulf lay there for some time fairly crying with vexation. He had done something,
he had discovered that Fitz-Urse was indeed engaged in some undertaking that had to be conducted with the greatest secrecy; but this was little to what he would have learned had he understood the language. His only consolation was that both Wulf and Osgod had likewise forgotten the probability that the conversations he was charged to overhear might be in Norman.
Had Wulf still been in London he could have gone to him for fresh instructions, but he had started at daybreak, and the king’s party would assuredly ride fast. There was no time to be lost. These men had a boat, and probably came from a ship in the port. Were there really a conspiracy against the king they might sail north and land in the Humber, though it seemed more probable that they would wait for his return, for on his journey he would be surrounded by his housecarls, and there would be far less chance of finding him alone and unguarded than in London. Had it been their intention to sail at once for the North, Walter Fitz-Urse would probably have rowed away with them without returning to the palace. At any rate it was too important a matter for him to trust to his own judgment, and he determined to take counsel with his master.
He had not been near the forge since he had begun the search, and was supposed to have gone down to stay with his family, who lived near Reading. He had hidden away his apprentice dress beneath some stones in a field half a mile from Westminster, and he presented himself in this at the forge in the morning.
“You are back sooner than I expected, Ulf,” Ulred said as he entered. “I did not look for you for another week to come. Is all well at home?”
“All is well, master; but I have a message to deliver to you concerning some business.”
The armourer saw that his apprentice wished to speak to him in private. He knew nothing of the reason for which Osgod had asked him to release the boy from his work at the forge for a time, but had quite understood that the wish to pay a visit to his family was but a cloak, and that the boy was to be employed in some service for Wulf. Guessing, therefore, that the message was one that should be delivered in private, he bade the boy follow him from the forge and took him into the room above.
“What is it you would say to me, Ulf? Mind, I wish to hear nothing about any private matter in which you may be engaged either by Wulf or Osgod. They are both away and may not return for a month or more. I judged the matter was a private one, as Osgod said nought of it to me.”
“The matter is a private one, master, but as they are away I would fain take your counsel on it.”
The armourer shook his head decidedly. “I can listen to nought about it, boy. It can be no business of mine, and unless he has given you license to speak I would not on any account meddle with the affairs of the young thane, who is a good lord to my son.”
“That he has not done, sir; but I pray you to hear me,” he added urgently as the armourer was turning to leave the room. “It is a matter that may touch the safety of our lord the king.”
The armourer stopped. “Art well assured of what you say, Ulf?”
“For myself I can say nothing, master, but the young thane told me that he had fears that some attempt or other might be made from the other side of the sea against the king’s life, and that although he had no strong grounds, he thought that Walter Fitz-Urse, who had just returned here, might be concerned in it, he having reasons for enmity against the king. Therefore he appointed me to watch him.”
He then related the scene he had witnessed on the river bank the evening before.
“It is a strange story indeed, Ulf, and whatever it may mean, this meeting can have been for no good purpose. The secrecy with which it was conducted is enough to prove it. It is indeed unfortunate that you did not understand what was said, for much may depend upon it. Well, this is a grave affair, and I must think it over, Ulf. You have done well in telling me. Has any plan occurred to you?”
“I thought that you might accompany me, master.”
“That would I willingly, but though I have picked up enough of their tongue to enable me to do business with the Normans at the king’s court when they come in to buy a dagger or to have a piece of armour repaired, I could not follow their talk one with another. We must obtain someone who can speak their language well, and who can be trusted to be discreet and silent. Why, were it but whispered abroad that some Normans are plotting against the life of the king, there would be so angry a stir that every Norman in the land might be hunted down and slain. Do not go down to the forge, I will tell my wife to give you some food, and you had best then go up to the attic and sleep. You will have to be afoot again tonight, and it were well that you kept altogether away from the others, so as to avoid inconvenient questions. I will come up to you when I have thought the matter over.”
“Is aught troubling you, Ulred?” the armourer’s wife asked when breakfast was over and the men had gone downstairs again to their work. “Never have I seen you sit so silently at the board.”
“I am worried about a matter which I have learned this morning. It matters not what it is now. Some time later you shall hear of it, but at present I am pledged to say no word about it. I want above all things to find one who speaks the Norman tongue well, and is yet a true Englishman. I have been puzzling my brains, but cannot bethink me of anyone. Canst thou help me?”
“Except about the court there are few such to be found, Ulred. If Wulf of Steyning had been here he could doubtless have assisted you had it been a matter you could have confided to him; for Osgod said that although he himself had learned but little Norman his master was able to talk freely with the Norman nobles.”
“Ay, he learnt it partly when a page at court. But what you say reminds me that it was but yesterday afternoon his friend Beorn came into my shop. He had just arrived from his estate, and said how disappointed he was at finding that Wulf had left London. I will go to the palace and see him at once. I know but little of him save that I have heard from Osgod that he is Wulf’s firmest friend, and they fought together across in Normandy and again against the Welsh. He has been here several times to have weapons repaired, and knows that Osgod is Wulf’s man. I wonder I did not think of him, but my thoughts were running on people of our own condition.”
Ulred at once put on his cap and proceeded to the palace, where he found Beorn without difficulty.
“You have not come to tell me that the blade I left with you yesterday cannot be fitted with a new hilt, Master Ulred? It is a favourite weapon of mine, and I would rather pay twice the price of a new one than lose it.”
“I have come on another matter, my Lord Beorn. It is for your private ear. May I pray you to come with me to my house, where I can enter upon it without fear of being overheard?”
“Certainly I will come, Ulred, though I cannot think what this matter may be.”
“It concerns in some way the Thane of Steyning, my lord, and others even higher in position.”
“That is enough,” Beorn said. “Anything that concerns Wulf concerns me, and as he is in the matter you can count on me without question.”
Upon reaching his house Ulred left Beorn for a moment in the room upstairs, and fetched Ulf down from the attic.
“This is an apprentice lad of mine,” he said, “and as it is he who has been employed by the Thane of Steyning in this affair, it were best that he himself informed you of it.”
When Ulf had finished his story Beorn exclaimed, “I will go at once, and will put such an affront upon this Walter Fitz-Urse that he must needs meet me in mortal combat.”
“But even if you slay him, my lord, that may not interfere with the carrying out of this enterprise, in which, as we know, another of equal rank with him is engaged.”
“That is true, master armourer, and I spoke hastily. I thought perhaps it was for this that you had informed me of the matter.”
“No, my lord; it seemed to me that the first thing was to assure ourselves for a certainty that the affair is really a plot against the king’s life, of which we have as yet no manner of proof, but simply the suspicion entertained by my son�
��s master. The first necessity is to find out for a truth that it is so, and secondly to learn how and when it is to be carried out; and this can only be by overhearing another conversation between the plotters. As you have heard, Ulf could have learnt all this if he had but understood the Norman tongue. Could I have spoken it well enough to follow the conversation I would not have troubled you, but it seemed to me that at their next meeting it needed that one should be present who could speak Norman well. After considering in vain how to find one who should at once know the Norman tongue and be a true and trustworthy Englishman, my thoughts fell upon you, of whom I have always heard my son speak as the companion and friend of his master, and I made bold to come and lay the matter before you, thinking that you might either take it in hand yourself or name one suitable for it.”
“Certainly I will take it in hand myself,” Beorn said, “and right glad am I that you came to me. A matter in which the king’s life is concerned I would trust to no one but myself. And now, how think you shall we proceed? for it may well be that these plotters may not meet again for some time, seeing that the king is away.”
“So it seems to me,” the armourer said; “and, moreover, they may in their talk last night have appointed some other place of meeting.”
“What think you, Ulf?” Beorn said, turning to the boy. “Wulf would not have chosen you for this business had he not had a good opinion of your shrewdness; and, indeed, you have shown yourself well worthy of his confidence.”