CHAPTER III
HOW A BROTHER, HAVING OFFENDED, WAS FORGIVEN
I found my father sitting as his wont was in the high wainscotedbook-room beyond the hall. When I entered he looked up from a pile ofpapers he had been diligently perusing, and smiled upon me pleasantly.I was surprised to note the serenity of his brow, having indeedprepared myself for a worse condition of health in him than Peter Sprothad allowed. But whatever trouble he had he laid it by to bid megood-morrow, and to excuse himself for so hastily summoning me.
"Upon so fine a morning, Denis," he said, "I would not willingly havecut short your pleasure, and do not so for my own business, which issimple enough at most times, as a man's should be who hath ever studiedto be quiet." He paused a small while and cast his eye over an openbook that lay beside him on the table, and I knew it to be the"Discourses of Epictetus." A wonder crept into my mind at this, thatwhile the words of Scripture would oftentimes be in his mouth, hisreading was generally in the heathens, and his way of life moreaccording to the ancient Stoicks (of whom Mr. Jordan had oftendiscoursed), than to the precepts of the Church of England of which henevertheless professed himself a member. Such fancies however beingforeign to the matter, I put them from me, expecting the sequelanxiously, and in the meantime assuring my father that I would neverhave gone thus upon my twilight journey had I known he required me;which was indeed true, and he acknowledged it handsomely.
"I know where to trust and where to doubt, Denis," he said, in hisquiet voice, "and I know likewise that where trust is broken therestands occasion for lenity, though the using of it is hard at alltimes; severity being more aptly come by, and by the vulgar commended."
I knew by this that his thoughts had slid from the present into thatsad channel of the past, and marvelled that he could speak so offorgiveness where his honour had been engaged, and, in the event, mymother's life forfeit.
"'Twas well that Peter had some inkling of your road," my father wenton and in a livelier manner, "else we might still be seeking you o'erhalf Exmoor. But tell me what it was led you to Dunster, lad?" And helooked at me methought somewhat keenly as he spoke.
"I had hoped to meet with Captain Cutts," I returned boldly, though Iwas conscious of the emptiness of the reason, "and to hear of thechance of war."
To my surprise my father appeared relieved by my answer, but presentlyexplained himself.
"It had lain upon me that you were perhaps courting some lass there,Denis; not that I should censure you therefor, but having need of youmyself awhile, I would not suddenly interfere with that is properenough for you to consider of at your age. Well, so much forprologue," he broke off swiftly, and betook himself again to scanningthe papers on his desk.
"So Mr. Cutts having avoided the town before you arrived," he saidpresently, glancing up, "the direct purpose of your errand failed."
I was about to reply when he added: "You have little cause to grieve inthat, Denis, seeing his commission is cancelled and he to beapprehended for malpractices of which I have here the note before me."
"I would all such villains were hanged as soon as apprehended," criedI, in a sudden rage at this disclosed infamy; but my father put up hishand peremptorily to stop me.
"Hast ever heard of thine uncle Botolph?" he asked me presently, andwith the same piercing glance as before.
I told him yes, and that Peter Sprot had related some part of his storyto me.
"That was not altogether well," replied my father with a littlemovement of his brows, "and not what I looked for from his discretion."He set his ruff even and took up his pen as if to write, but sat soawhile without either writing or speaking.
"I forced him to tell me," I said, for I thought he blamed Peter forwhat was truly my own curiosity.
"Tut," said my father, "'tis a small matter, and being known saves manywords to no purpose. I have received a letter from him," he said.
This amazed me, for I had thought him (I know not wherefore) to be dead.
"Why, where is he?" I asked.
"He is in the Tower," said my father.
At these words my blood leapt to my heart in a tumult, for I knew wellenough what this meant, and that in such a time of danger as now welived in, when all was suspicion and betrayal, few men that had oncecome into that foul dungeon ever left it living. Until now I had foundfrequent matter for rejoicing in this very process and summary actionof the Council, being confident that 'twas for the better security ofthe realm, and deriding them that would have accorded an open trial toall, and the means of a man's clearing himself at the law. But nowthat our own family stood thus impeached, I had nothing to say, noraught to think, but upon the terror of it and the disgrace to our houseand ancient name.
"What is the cause?" I inquired, when I had something recovered myself;but my lips were dry and my face (I am assured) as white as paper.
"He has had licence granted to write," returned my father; "which is amark of favour not oftentimes bestowed. He saith he is well treated,though for the rest his chamber is but a mean cold one and evilsmelling, and the ward upon him strict, especially when he is had in tothe Constable for examination, which hath been several times renewed.As for the cause, there would appear by his letter to be little enough,save such as gathers from a host of fears, and from his known devotionto my Lord of Arundel; which indeed was the direct occasion of hisapprehension. Of a former intimacy with that witless Somervillemoreover, he is accused, and the mere supposition of it goes hardagainst him; but upon this head he hath strong hope of his exculpation,having only, as he writes, once met with the man, and then in a publicplace without any the least concealment."
He rose from his seat as he ended speaking, and took a turn or twoabout the room, his hands clasped behind his back and his head bent inthought. I suppose that never before had I observed my father with soclose attention, having ever held him (as I have said) in a kind ofnegligent contempt for his mild and bookish ways. But now I perceiveda nobility of bearing in him which took me strangely, and withal, asecret strength. His scholar's indifference he had quite cast aside,and appeared full of purpose, shrewdly weighing each circumstance ofhis brother's case, and examining the good and bad in it, in order tothe more directly assist him. This unused activity of his so engagedme that for awhile I could do nought but follow him with my eyes, untilthe vision of my father always thus (as thus he might have been, savefor that great weight of sorrow warping him from his natural aptness),this vision, I say, so moved me in his favour and against my uncleBotolph, who was surely now receiving chastisement for his former sin,that I could not contain myself.
"But, sir," I cried, "why should you concern yourself for a man thathath wronged you so basely as my uncle did? And besides that," Ibethought myself to add in order to strengthen our excuse for leavinghim alone, "besides that, there is the unseemliness of your aiding aman that the Queen's Majesty is offended withal. It is very probablehe is implicated in these treasons, who hath brought such treason intohousehold affairs, and the likelier still for his denying it."
Something in my father's countenance stayed me there, else would I havespoken more; for there is nought so easy as to persuade ourselves 'tisright to do nothing in a dangerous pass.
"Ay, ay," said my father slowly, "then your advice is to leave mybrother to perish."
"You are a magistrate, sir," I stammered, "and it surely behoves you toassist in the arrest of traitors."
"Ay, and so it doth, Denis," said he, nodding, "but then, thisgentleman being already arrested, it seems that my poor assistancetherein is rendered in advance superfluous."
"But you are minded to help him, sir," said I, "so far as you be able."
"Leaving that aside," he said, "let us return to your former argument,which was, as I remember, that because he had once badly wronged me soI should not now concern myself on his behalf. Why then do youafterwards bring me in as a magistrate, when you have so potentlyaddressed my prejudice as a man? Nay, Denis," he said, smiling at mydiscomfiture, "
you speak for my ease, I know well, and I thank you; butthis may not be. Nor, indeed, does your uncle desire it to be as youunderstand the case. He prays me here," he struck the open letterlightly, "to gain him fair trial, if such a thing may be come by, andby it he is content to be judged. Were it I, who stood in thisjeopardy, Denis, and not he, would you deny me your offices?"
His grave manner and contempt of the revenge I had held out to him,wrought upon me so that I could not answer him, but going forward Iknelt and kissed his hand. I think now he was the best man I everknew, and one that, without hesitancy, ever chose the untainted course.
We fell to business after that with a will; my father opening with meupon many matters of procedure at the law, in which I was surprised tofind him perfect, and giving me his reasons for supposing that my uncleBotolph would be suffered to stand upon his delivery in open court. Heread me his whole letter too, which I had to confess was very simplywritten and bore the impress of truth.
"You see that he speaks here of councillors to defend him, which isvery needful," my father continued, "though the emoluments of thatoffice be higher than I had hoped to find. He writes that a less sumthan five hundred pounds would avail little, which, if it include thenecessary expenses of seeking out witnesses (of whom he names one inFlanders who must be brought home), if it include this, I say, and theprocuring of documents, that may well be, though I am sorry to findjustice sold at so high a rate."
"But, sir, can you employ so much money in this affair?" I asked, forit sounded an infinite treasure to me.
"I think so," he replied, "though I would it were not so urgent. Imust however encumber the estate for awhile, Denis; as indeed hath beendone before by my grandfather, at the time the Scriptures were printedin English secretly, three score years since; which work he was bold toforward, and spared neither pains nor moneys therein. But thatconcerns thee not, Denis," he broke off, "and for the getting togetherof the ransom, for so it is, I will engage to effect it. Only yourpart will be to convey it to London and deliver it to my brother'sagent and good friend, one Mr. John Skene, an attorney of SerjeantsInn, in Fleet Street, who will use it, as your uncle believes, and Idoubt not, to advantage."
Our conference ended, and my doubts resolved of what it stood me to do,I went away, leaving my father still in his book-room, who had lettersto write to Exeter, about the business of the loan. The discourse Ihad had, and especially the peril imminent over one so near in blood tous, had excited my imagination greatly; so that 'twas a long while ereI could examine each particular soberly, as a merchant doth a bill ofgoods, and, as it were, piece by piece. Everything hung confused in mybrain like a wrack of cloud, which, parting, discloses now one thingand now another but nothing clearly, nor whole. Immersed in suchconsiderations I had wandered a great way, and unawares had begun tomount the steep hill that stands above the Combe Court, and now gazeddown through the trees upon our house, which I had once likened to aplace enchanted, so evenly did all go there and with the regularity ofone breathing in his sleep. The old gabled tower, with the great bellin the clochard or belfry beside it, I had oftentimes laughed at withSimon Powell, as at a thing of more pretence than usage; the alarm nothaving been rung therefrom for nigh a hundred years. But now the sightof it brought tears to my eyes for the very peace which clung about it.For well I knew that I was come at the end of my time of quiet and wasto adventure forth of my old home into regions full as strange anddifficult as any of Simon's uncouth caves and elvish forests. And Ithought of that hero of his which bade them cut off his head and bearit, still sweet, to the White Mount in London, whither I was now going.
Then I looked again down upon the yard before the house, with its finebrick gate upon the road, and behind the house, upon the base courtwith the offices beside it, and the stables beyond, and beyond againthe green bottom of the combe and the cattle feeding. It was a fairestate, and one that no man would encumber in a trivial cause. Butonce before it had been so laid under bond, which was, as my fathersaid, in order to the advancement of the glory of God; and now, thesecond time 'twas so to be for no better purpose than the enlargementof a traitor. A youth argues narrowly perforce, being hedged betweenlack of experience and lack of charity, but the force of hisconclusion, for this very want, I suppose, hath an honest vigour in itwhich is beyond the competence of many an elder man. So I, beingpersuaded of my uncle Botolph's villainy, there on that hillside sworethat, albeit I would faithfully labour for his release, as I was boundto do, yet I would thereafter bring him to book with a vengeance. Andhow I kept my word you shall see.
Idonia: A Romance of Old London Page 3