Kenilworth

by Walter Scott

  CHAPTER IV.

  Not serve two masters?--Here's a youth will try it-- Would fain serve God, yet give the devil his due; Says grace before he doth a deed of villainy, And returns his thanks devoutly when 'tis acted,--OLD PLAY.

  The room into which the Master of Cumnor Place conducted his worthyvisitant was of greater extent than that in which they had at firstconversed, and had yet more the appearance of dilapidation. Large oakenpresses, filled with shelves of the same wood, surrounded the room, andhad, at one time, served for the arrangement of a numerous collectionof books, many of which yet remained, but torn and defaced, covered withdust, deprived of their costly clasps and bindings, and tossed togetherin heaps upon the shelves, as things altogether disregarded, andabandoned to the pleasure of every spoiler. The very presses themselvesseemed to have incurred the hostility of those enemies of learning whohad destroyed the volumes with which they had been heretofore filled.They were, in several places, dismantled of their shelves, and otherwisebroken and damaged, and were, moreover, mantled with cobwebs and coveredwith dust.

  "The men who wrote these books," said Lambourne, looking round him,"little thought whose keeping they were to fall into."

  "Nor what yeoman's service they were to do me," quoth Anthony Foster;"the cook hath used them for scouring his pewter, and the groom hath hadnought else to clean my boots with, this many a month past."

  "And yet," said Lambourne, "I have been in cities where such learnedcommodities would have been deemed too good for such offices."

  "Pshaw, pshaw," answered Foster, "'they are Popish trash, every oneof them--private studies of the mumping old Abbot of Abingdon. Thenineteenthly of a pure gospel sermon were worth a cartload of suchrakings of the kennel of Rome."

  "Gad-a-mercy, Master Tony Fire-the-Fagot!" said Lambourne, by way ofreply.

  Foster scowled darkly at him, as he replied, "Hark ye, friend Mike;forget that name, and the passage which it relates to, if you would nothave our newly-revived comradeship die a sudden and a violent death."

  "Why," said Michael Lambourne, "you were wont to glory in the share youhad in the death of the two old heretical bishops."

  "That," said his comrade, "was while I was in the gall of bitterness andbond of iniquity, and applies not to my walk or my ways now that Iam called forth into the lists. Mr. Melchisedek Maultext compared mymisfortune in that matter to that of the Apostle Paul, who kept theclothes of the witnesses who stoned Saint Stephen. He held forth on thematter three Sabbaths past, and illustrated the same by the conduct ofan honourable person present, meaning me."

  "I prithee peace, Foster," said Lambourne, "for I know not how it is, Ihave a sort of creeping comes over my skin when I hear the devil quoteScripture; and besides, man, how couldst thou have the heart to quitthat convenient old religion, which you could slip off or on as easilyas your glove? Do I not remember how you were wont to carry yourconscience to confession, as duly as the month came round? and when thouhadst it scoured, and burnished, and whitewashed by the priest, thouwert ever ready for the worst villainy which could be devised, like achild who is always readiest to rush into the mire when he has got hisSunday's clean jerkin on."

  "Trouble not thyself about my conscience," said Foster; "it is a thingthou canst not understand, having never had one of thine own. But letus rather to the point, and say to me, in one word, what is thy businesswith me, and what hopes have drawn thee hither?"

  "The hope of bettering myself, to be sure," answered Lambourne, "as theold woman said when she leapt over the bridge at Kingston. Look you,this purse has all that is left of as round a sum as a man would wish tocarry in his slop-pouch. You are here well established, it would seem,and, as I think, well befriended, for men talk of thy being under somespecial protection--nay, stare not like a pig that is stuck, mon;thou canst not dance in a net and they not see thee. Now I know suchprotection is not purchased for nought; you must have services to renderfor it, and in these I propose to help thee."

  "But how if I lack no assistance from thee, Mike? I think thy modestymight suppose that were a case possible."

  "That is to say," retorted Lambourne, "that you would engross thewhole work, rather than divide the reward. But be not over-greedy,Anthony--covetousness bursts the sack and spills the grain. Look you,when the huntsman goes to kill a stag, he takes with him more dogs thanone. He has the stanch lyme-hound to track the wounded buck over hilland dale, but he hath also the fleet gaze-hound to kill him at view.Thou art the lyme-hound, I am the gaze-hound; and thy patron will needthe aid of both, and can well afford to requite it. Thou hast deepsagacity--an unrelenting purpose--a steady, long-breathed malignity ofnature, that surpasses mine. But then, I am the bolder, the quicker, themore ready, both at action and expedient. Separate, our properties arenot so perfect; but unite them, and we drive the world before us. Howsayest thou--shall we hunt in couples?"

  "It is a currish proposal--thus to thrust thyself upon my privatematters," replied Foster; "but thou wert ever an ill-nurtured whelp."

  "You shall have no cause to say so, unless you spurn my courtesy," saidMichael Lambourne; "but if so, keep thee well from me, Sir Knight, asthe romance has it. I will either share your counsels or traverse them;for I have come here to be busy, either with thee or against thee."

  "Well," said Anthony Foster, "since thou dost leave me so fair a choice,I will rather be thy friend than thine enemy. Thou art right; I CANprefer thee to the service of a patron who has enough of means to makeus both, and an hundred more. And, to say truth, thou art well qualifiedfor his service. Boldness and dexterity he demands--the justice-booksbear witness in thy favour; no starting at scruples in his service why,who ever suspected thee of a conscience? an assurance he must have whowould follow a courtier--and thy brow is as impenetrable as a Milanvisor. There is but one thing I would fain see amended in thee."

  "And what is that, my most precious friend Anthony?" replied Lambourne;"for I swear by the pillow of the Seven Sleepers I will not be slothfulin amending it."

  "Why, you gave a sample of it even now," said Foster. "Your speechtwangs too much of the old stamp, and you garnish it ever and anon withsingular oaths, that savour of Papistrie. Besides, your exterior man isaltogether too deboshed and irregular to become one of his lordship'sfollowers, since he has a reputation to keep up in the eye of the world.You must somewhat reform your dress, upon a more grave and composedfashion; wear your cloak on both shoulders, and your falling bandunrumpled and well starched. You must enlarge the brim of your beaver,and diminish the superfluity of your trunk-hose; go to church, or, whichwill be better, to meeting, at least once a month; protest only uponyour faith and conscience; lay aside your swashing look, and never touchthe hilt of your sword but when you would draw the carnal weapon in goodearnest."

  "By this light, Anthony, thou art mad," answered Lambourne, "and hastdescribed rather the gentleman-usher to a puritan's wife, than thefollower of an ambitious courtier! Yes, such a thing as thou wouldstmake of me should wear a book at his girdle instead of a poniard, andmight just be suspected of manhood enough to squire a proud dame-citizento the lecture at Saint Antonlin's, and quarrel in her cause with anyflat-capped threadmaker that would take the wall of her. He must ruffleit in another sort that would walk to court in a nobleman's train."

  "Oh, content you, sir," replied Foster, "there is a change since youknew the English world; and there are those who can hold their waythrough the boldest courses, and the most secret, and yet never aswaggering word, or an oath, or a profane word in their conversation."

  "That is to say," replied Lambourne, "they are in a trading copartnery,to do the devil's business without mentioning his name in the firm?Well, I will do my best to counterfeit, rather than lose ground in thisnew world, since thou sayest it is grown so precise. But, Anthony, whatis the name of this nobleman, in whose service I am to turn hypocrite?"

  "Aha! Master Michael, are you there with your bears?" said Foster, witha grim smile; "and is this the knowledge you pr
etend of my concernments?How know you now there is such a person IN RERUM NATURA, and that I havenot been putting a jape upon you all this time?"

  "Thou put a jape on me, thou sodden-brained gull?" answered Lambourne,nothing daunted. "Why, dark and muddy as thou think'st thyself, Iwould engage in a day's space to see as clear through thee and thyconcernments, as thou callest them, as through the filthy horn of an oldstable lantern."

  At this moment their conversation was interrupted by a scream from thenext apartment.

  "By the holy Cross of Abingdon," exclaimed Anthony Foster, forgettinghis Protestantism in his alarm, "I am a ruined man!"

  So saying, he rushed into the apartment whence the scream issued,followed by Michael Lambourne. But to account for the sounds whichinterrupted their conversation, it is necessary to recede a little wayin our narrative.

  It has been already observed, that when Lambourne accompanied Fosterinto the library, they left Tressilian alone in the ancient parlour. Hisdark eye followed them forth of the apartment with a glance of contempt,a part of which his mind instantly transferred to himself, for havingstooped to be even for a moment their familiar companion. "These are theassociates, Amy"--it was thus he communed with himself--"to whichthy cruel levity--thine unthinking and most unmerited falsehood, hascondemned him of whom his friends once hoped far other things, and whonow scorns himself, as he will be scorned by others, for the basenesshe stoops to for the love of thee! But I will not leave the pursuit ofthee, once the object of my purest and most devoted affection, thoughto me thou canst henceforth be nothing but a thing to weep over. I willsave thee from thy betrayer, and from thyself; I will restore thee tothy parent--to thy God. I cannot bid the bright star again sparkle inthe sphere it has shot from, but--"

  A slight noise in the apartment interrupted his reverie. He lookedround, and in the beautiful and richly-attired female who entered atthat instant by a side-door he recognized the object of his search. Thefirst impulse arising from this discovery urged him to conceal his facewith the collar of his cloak, until he should find a favourable momentof making himself known. But his purpose was disconcerted by the younglady (she was not above eighteen years old), who ran joyfully towardshim, and, pulling him by the cloak, said playfully, "Nay, my sweetfriend, after I have waited for you so long, you come not to my bowerto play the masquer. You are arraigned of treason to true love and fondaffection, and you must stand up at the bar and answer it with faceuncovered--how say you, guilty or not?"

  "Alas, Amy!" said Tressilian, in a low and melancholy tone, as hesuffered her to draw the mantle from his face. The sound of his voice,and still more the unexpected sight of his face, changed in an instantthe lady's playful mood. She staggered back, turned as pale as death,and put her hands before her face. Tressilian was himself for a momentmuch overcome, but seeming suddenly to remember the necessity of usingan opportunity which might not again occur, he said in a low tone, "Amy,fear me not."

  "Why should I fear you?" said the lady, withdrawing her hands from herbeautiful face, which was now covered with crimson,--"Why should I fearyou, Master Tressilian?--or wherefore have you intruded yourself into mydwelling, uninvited, sir, and unwished for?"

  "Your dwelling, Amy!" said Tressilian. "Alas! is a prison yourdwelling?--a prison guarded by one of the most sordid of men, but not agreater wretch than his employer!"

  "This house is mine," said Amy--"mine while I choose to inhabit it. Ifit is my pleasure to live in seclusion, who shall gainsay me?"

  "Your father, maiden," answered Tressilian, "your broken-hearted father,who dispatched me in quest of you with that authority which he cannotexert in person. Here is his letter, written while he blessed his painof body which somewhat stunned the agony of his mind."

  "The pain! Is my father then ill?" said the lady.

  "So ill," answered Tressilian, "that even your utmost haste may notrestore him to health; but all shall be instantly prepared for yourdeparture, the instant you yourself will give consent."

  "Tressilian," answered the lady, "I cannot, I must not, I dare not leavethis place. Go back to my father--tell him I will obtain leave to seehim within twelve hours from hence. Go back, Tressilian--tell him I amwell, I am happy--happy could I think he was so; tell him not to fearthat I will come, and in such a manner that all the grief Amy has givenhim shall be forgotten--the poor Amy is now greater than she dare name.Go, good Tressilian--I have injured thee too, but believe me I havepower to heal the wounds I have caused. I robbed you of a childishheart, which was not worthy of you, and I can repay the loss withhonours and advancement."

  "Do you say this to me, Amy?--do you offer me pageants of idle ambition,for the quiet peace you have robbed me of!--But be it so I came notto upbraid, but to serve and to free you. You cannot disguise it fromme--you are a prisoner. Otherwise your kind heart--for it was once akind heart--would have been already at your father's bedside.--Come,poor, deceived, unhappy maiden!--all shall be forgot--all shall beforgiven. Fear not my importunity for what regarded our contract--it wasa dream, and I have awaked. But come--your father yet lives--come, andone word of affection, one tear of penitence, will efface the memory ofall that has passed."

  "Have I not already said, Tressilian," replied she, "that I will surelycome to my father, and that without further delay than is necessary todischarge other and equally binding duties?--Go, carry him the news;I come as sure as there is light in heaven--that is, when I obtainpermission."

  "Permission!--permission to visit your father on his sick-bed, perhapson his death-bed!" repeated Tressilian, impatiently; "and permissionfrom whom? From the villain, who, under disguise of friendship, abusedevery duty of hospitality, and stole thee from thy father's roof!"

  "Do him no slander, Tressilian! He whom thou speakest of wears a swordas sharp as thine--sharper, vain man; for the best deeds thou hastever done in peace or war were as unworthy to be named with his, as thyobscure rank to match itself with the sphere he moves in.--Leave me!Go, do mine errand to my father; and when he next sends to me, let himchoose a more welcome messenger."

  "Amy," replied Tressilian calmly, "thou canst not move me by thyreproaches. Tell me one thing, that I may bear at least one ray ofcomfort to my aged friend:--this rank of his which thou dost boast--dostthou share it with him, Amy?--does he claim a husband's right to controlthy motions?"

  "Stop thy base, unmannered tongue!" said the lady; "to no question thatderogates from my honour do I deign an answer."

  "You have said enough in refusing to reply," answered Tressilian;"and mark me, unhappy as thou art, I am armed with thy father's fullauthority to command thy obedience, and I will save thee from theslavery of sin and of sorrow, even despite of thyself, Amy."

  "Menace no violence here!" exclaimed the lady, drawing back from him,and alarmed at the determination expressed in his look and manner;"threaten me not, Tressilian, for I have means to repel force."

  "But not, I trust, the wish to use them in so evil a cause?" saidTressilian. "With thy will--thine uninfluenced, free, and natural will,Amy, thou canst not choose this state of slavery and dishonour. Thouhast been bound by some spell--entrapped by some deceit--art nowdetained by some compelled vow. But thus I break the charm--Amy, in thename of thine excellent, thy broken-hearted father, I command thee tofollow me!"

  As he spoke he advanced and extended his arm, as with the purpose oflaying hold upon her. But she shrunk back from his grasp, and utteredthe scream which, as we before noticed, brought into the apartmentLambourne and Foster.

  The latter exclaimed, as soon as he entered, "Fire and fagot! whathave we here?" Then addressing the lady, in a tone betwixt entreatyand command, he added, "Uds precious! madam, what make you here out ofbounds? Retire--retire--there is life and death in this matter.--Andyou, friend, whoever you may be, leave this house--out with you, beforemy dagger's hilt and your costard become acquainted.--Draw, Mike, andrid us of the knave!"

  "Not I, on my soul," replied Lambourne; "he came hither in mycompany, and he is safe from me by
cutter's law, at least till we meetagain.--But hark ye, my Cornish comrade, you have brought a Cornish flawof wind with you hither, a hurricanoe as they call it in the Indies.Make yourself scarce--depart--vanish--or we'll have you summoned beforethe Mayor of Halgaver, and that before Dudman and Ramhead meet." [Twoheadlands on the Cornish coast. The expressions are proverbial.]

  "Away, base groom!" said Tressilian.--"And you, madam, fare youwell--what life lingers in your father's bosom will leave him at thenews I have to tell."

  He departed, the lady saying faintly as he left the room, "Tressilian,be not rash--say no scandal of me."

  "Here is proper gear," said Foster. "I pray you go to your chamber, mylady, and let us consider how this is to be answered--nay, tarry not."

  "I move not at your command, sir," answered the lady.

  "Nay, but you must, fair lady," replied Foster; "excuse my freedom, but,by blood and nails, this is no time to strain courtesies--you MUST go toyour chamber.--Mike, follow that meddling coxcomb, and, as you desireto thrive, see him safely clear of the premises, while I bring thisheadstrong lady to reason. Draw thy tool, man, and after him."

  "I'll follow him," said Michael Lambourne, "and see him fairly outof Flanders; but for hurting a man I have drunk my morning's draughtwithal, 'tis clean against my conscience." So saying, he left theapartment.

  Tressilian, meanwhile, with hasty steps, pursued the first path whichpromised to conduct him through the wild and overgrown park in which themansion of Foster was situated. Haste and distress of mind led his stepsastray, and instead of taking the avenue which led towards the village,he chose another, which, after he had pursued it for some time with ahasty and reckless step, conducted him to the other side of the demesne,where a postern door opened through the wall, and led into the opencountry.

  Tressilian paused an instant. It was indifferent to him by what road heleft a spot now so odious to his recollections; but it was probablethat the postern door was locked, and his retreat by that pass renderedimpossible.

  "I must make the attempt, however," he said to himself; "the only meansof reclaiming this lost--this miserable--this still most lovely and mostunhappy girl, must rest in her father's appeal to the broken laws of hiscountry. I must haste to apprise him of this heartrending intelligence."

  As Tressilian, thus conversing with himself, approached to try somemeans of opening the door, or climbing over it, he perceived there wasa key put into the lock from the outside. It turned round, the boltrevolved, and a cavalier, who entered, muffled in his riding-cloak, andwearing a slouched hat with a drooping feather, stood at once withinfour yards of him who was desirous of going out. They exclaimed atonce, in tones of resentment and surprise, the one "Varney!" the other"Tressilian!"

  "What make you here?" was the stern question put by the stranger toTressilian, when the moment of surprise was past--"what make you here,where your presence is neither expected nor desired?"

  "Nay, Varney," replied Tressilian, "what make you here? Are you cometo triumph over the innocence you have destroyed, as the vulture orcarrion-crow comes to batten on the lamb whose eyes it has first pluckedout? Or are you come to encounter the merited vengeance of an honestman? Draw, dog, and defend thyself!"

  Tressilian drew his sword as he spoke, but Varney only laid his handon the hilt of his own, as he replied, "Thou art mad, Tressilian. I ownappearances are against me; but by every oath a priest can make or a mancan swear, Mistress Amy Robsart hath had no injury from me. And in truthI were somewhat loath to hurt you in this cause--thou knowest I canfight."

  "I have heard thee say so, Varney," replied Tressilian; "but now,methinks, I would fain have some better evidence than thine own word."

  "That shall not be lacking, if blade and hilt be but true to me,"answered Varney; and drawing his sword with the right hand, he threw hiscloak around his left, and attacked Tressilian with a vigour which,for a moment, seemed to give him the advantage of the combat. But thisadvantage lasted not long. Tressilian added to a spirit determined onrevenge a hand and eye admirably well adapted to the use of the rapier;so that Varney, finding himself hard pressed in his turn, endeavouredto avail himself of his superior strength by closing with his adversary.For this purpose, he hazarded the receiving one of Tressilian's passesin his cloak, wrapped as it was around his arm, and ere his adversarycould, extricate his rapier thus entangled, he closed with him,shortening his own sword at the same time, with the purpose ofdispatching him. But Tressilian was on his guard, and unsheathing hisponiard, parried with the blade of that weapon the home-thrust whichwould otherwise have finished the combat, and, in the struggle whichfollowed, displayed so much address, as might have confirmed, theopinion that he drew his origin from Cornwall whose natives are suchmasters in the art of wrestling, as, were the games of antiquityrevived, might enable them to challenge all Europe to the ring. Varney,in his ill-advised attempt, received a fall so sudden and violent thathis sword flew several paces from his hand and ere he could recover hisfeet, that of his antagonist was; pointed to his throat.

  "Give me the instant means of relieving the victim of thy treachery,"said Tressilian, "or take the last look of your Creator's blessed sun!"

  And while Varney, too confused or too sullen to reply, made a suddeneffort to arise, his adversary drew back his arm, and would haveexecuted his threat, but that the blow was arrested by the grasp ofMichael Lambourne, who, directed by the clashing of swords had come upjust in time to save the life of Varney.

  "Come, come, comrade;" said Lambourne, "here is enough done and morethan enough; put up your fox and let us be jogging. The Black Beargrowls for us."

  "Off, abject!" said Tressilian, striking himself free of Lambourne'sgrasp; "darest thou come betwixt me and mine enemy?"

  "Abject! abject!" repeated Lambourne; "that shall be answered with coldsteel whenever a bowl of sack has washed out memory of the morning'sdraught that we had together. In the meanwhile, do you see,shog--tramp--begone--we are two to one."

  He spoke truth, for Varney had taken the opportunity to regain hisweapon, and Tressilian perceived it was madness to press the quarrelfurther against such odds. He took his purse from his side, and takingout two gold nobles, flung them to Lambourne. "There, caitiff, isthy morning wage; thou shalt not say thou hast been my guideunhired.--Varney, farewell! we shall meet where there are none to comebetwixt us." So saying, he turned round and departed through the posterndoor.

  Varney seemed to want the inclination, or perhaps the power (for hisfall had been a severe one), to follow his retreating enemy. But heglared darkly as he disappeared, and then addressed Lambourne. "Art thoua comrade of Foster's, good fellow?"

  "Sworn friends, as the haft is to the knife," replied Michael Lambourne.

  "Here is a broad piece for thee. Follow yonder fellow, and see where hetakes earth, and bring me word up to the mansion-house here. Cautiousand silent, thou knave, as thou valuest thy throat."

  "Enough said," replied Lambourne; "I can draw on a scent as well as asleuth-hound."

  "Begone, then," said Varney, sheathing his rapier; and, turning hisback on Michael Lambourne, he walked slowly towards the house. Lambournestopped but an instant to gather the nobles which his late companion hadflung towards him so unceremoniously, and muttered to himself, while heput them upon his purse along with the gratuity of Varney, "I spoke toyonder gulls of Eldorado. By Saint Anthony, there is no Eldorado formen of our stamp equal to bonny Old England! It rains nobles, byHeaven--they lie on the grass as thick as dewdrops--you may have themfor gathering. And if I have not my share of such glittering dewdrops,may my sword melt like an icicle!"