Part 12 (2/2)

”You may search my cellars,” he wound up, ”and, if you please, interrogate my servants. My livery is known by everyone in this neighbourhood to be purple and tawny. The seamen can tell you if any of their a.s.sailants wore these colours.”

”They a.s.sure me,” said Sir Nicholas, ”that the night was too dark for them to observe colours: and for that matter to disguise them would have been a natural precaution. There was a wounded man brought to your house--one Gil Perez, the boatswain.”

”He is dead, as you doubtless know, of a bite received from this lady's hound as he was attacking her with a knife.”

”But why, madam”--the factor turned to my Mistress--”should this man have attacked you?”

She appeared to be expecting this question, and drew from her packet a second paper, which she unfolded quietly and spread on the table, yet kept her palm over the writing on it while she answered, ”Those who engage upon missions of State must look to meet with attacks, but not to be asked to explain them. The mob at Dunquerque pursued me upon a ridiculous charge, yet was wisely incited by men who invented it, knowing the true purpose of my mission.” She glanced from the Commissioner to Master Porson. ”Sir Nicholas Fleming--surely I have heard his name spoken, as of a good friend to the Holy Father and not too anxious for the Emperor's marriage with Mary Tudor?”

The Commissioner started in his chair, while she turned serenely upon his companion. ”And Master Porson,” she continued, ”as a faithful servant of His Majesty of Portugal will needs be glad to see a princess of Portugal take Mary Tudor's place. Eh?”--for they were eyeing each the other like two detected schoolboys--”It would seem, sirs, that though you came together, you were better friends than you guessed.

Glance your eye, Master Porson, over this paper which I shall presently entrust to you for furtherance; and you will agree with Sir Nicholas that the prudent course for both of you is to forget, on leaving this house, that any such person as I was on board the _Saint Andrew._”

The two peered into the parchment and drew back. ”The Emperor--” I heard the Commissioner mutter with an intake of breath.

”And, as you perceive, in his own handwriting.” She folded up the paper and, replacing it, addressed my Master. ”Your visitors, sir, deserve some refreshment for their pains and courtesy.”

And that was the end of the conference. What that paper contained I know as little as I know by what infernal sorcery it was prepared.

Master Porson folded it up tight in his hand, glancing dubiously at Sir Nicholas. My lady stood smiling upon the both for a moment, then dismissed me to the kitchens upon a pretended errand. They were gone when I returned, nor did I again set eyes upon the Commissioner or the factor. It is true that the Emperor did about this time break his pledge with our King Henry and marry a princess of Portugal; and some of high office in England were not sorry therefore. But of this enough.

As the days wore on and we heard no more of the wreck, my Master and Mistress settled down to that retirement from the world which is by custom allowed to the newly married, but which with them was to last to the end. A life of love it was; but--G.o.d help us!--no life of happiness; rather, in process of days, a life of torment. Can I tell you how it was? At first to see them together was like looking through a gla.s.s upon a picture; a picture gallant and beautiful yet removed behind a screen and not of this world. Suppose now that by little and little the gla.s.s began to be flawed, or the picture behind it to crumble (you could not tell which) until when it smiled it smiled wryly, until rocks toppled and figures fell askew, yet still kept up their pretence of play against the distorted woodland. Nay, it was worse than this: fifty times worse. For while the fair show tottered, my Master and Mistress clung to their love; and yet it was just their love which kept the foundations rocking.

They lived for each other. They neither visited nor received visits.

Yet they were often, and by degrees oftener, apart; my Master locked up with his books, my Mistress roaming the walls with her hound or seated by her lattice high on the seaward side of the castle. Sometimes (but this was usually on moonlit nights or windless evenings when the sun sank clear to view over our broad bay) she would take up her lute and touch it to one of those outlandish love-chants with which she had first wiled my Master's heart to her. As time went on, stories came to us that these chants, which fell so softly on the ears of us as we went about the rooms and gardens, had been heard by fishermen riding by their nets far in the offing--so far away (I have heard) as the Scillies; and there were tales of men who, as they listened, had seen the ghosts of drowned mariners rising and falling on the moon-rays, or floating with their white faces thrown back while they drank in the music; yea, even echoing the words of the song in whispers like the flutter of birds'

wings.

When first the word crept about that she was a witch I cannot certainly say. But in time it did; and, what is more--though I will swear that no word of Gil Perez' confession ever pa.s.sed my lips--the common folk soon held it for a certainty that the cargo saved from the _Saint Andrew_ had been saved by her magic only; that the plate and rich stuffs seen by my own eyes were but cheating _simulacra_, and had turned into rubbish at midnight, scarce an hour before the a.s.sault on the Portuguese.

I have wondered since if 'twas this rumour and some belief in it which held Messrs. Saint Aubyn and G.o.dolphin from offering any further attack on us. You might say that it was open to them, so believing, to have denounced her publicly. But in our country Holy Church had little hold--scarce more than the King's law itself in such matters; and within my memory it has always come easier to us to fear witch-craft than to denounce it. Also (and it concerns my tale) the three years which followed the stranding of the _Saint Andrew_ were remarkable for a great number of wrecks upon our coast. In that short time we of our parish and the men of St. Hilary upon our north were between us favoured with no fewer than fourteen; the most of them vessels of good burden. Of any hand in bringing them ash.o.r.e I know our gentry to have been innocent.

Still, there were pickings; and finding that my Master held aloof from all share in such and (as far as could be) held his servants aloof, our neighbours, though not accepting this for quittance, forbore to press the affair of the _Saint Andrew_ further than by spreading injurious tales and whispers.

The marvel was that we of Pengersick (who reaped nothing of this harvest) fell none the less under suspicion of decoying the vessels ash.o.r.e. More than once in my dealings with the fishermen and tradesmen of Market Jew, I happened on hints of this; but nothing which could be taken hold of until one day a certain Peter Chynoweth of that town, coming drunk to Pengersick with a basket of fish, blurted out the tale.

Said he, after I had beaten him down to a reasonable price, ”Twould be easy enough, one would think, to spare an honest man a groat of the fortune Pengersick makes on these dark nights.”

”Thou lying thief!” said I. ”What new slander is this?”

”Come, come,” says he, looking roguish; ”that won't do for me that have seen the false light on Cuddan Point more times than I can count; and so has every fisherman in the bay.”

Well, I kicked him through the gate for it, and flung his basket after him; but the tale could not be so dismissed. ”It may be,” thought I, ”some one of Pengersick has engaged upon this wickedness on his own account”; and for my Master's credit I resolved to keep watch.

I took therefore the porter into my secret, who agreed to let me through the gate towards midnight without telling a soul. I took a sheepskin with me and a poignard for protection; and for a week, from midnight to dawn, I played sentinel on Cuddan Point, walking to and fro, or stretched under the lee of a rock whence I could not miss any light shown on the headland, if Peter Chynoweth's tale held any truth.

By the eighth trial I had pretty well made up my mind (and without astonishment) that Peter Chynoweth was a liar. But scarcely had I reached my post that night when, turning, I descried a radiance as of a lantern, following me at some fifty paces. On the instant I gripped my poignard and stepped behind a boulder. The light drew nearer, came, and pa.s.sed me. To my bewilderment it was no lantern, but an open flame, running close along the turf and too low for anyone to be carrying it: nor was the motion that of a light which a man carries.

Moreover, though it pa.s.sed me within half-a-dozen yards and lit up the stone I stood behind, I saw n.o.body and heard no footstep, though the wind (which was south-westerly) blew from it to me. In this breeze the flame quivered, though not violently but as it were a ball of fire rolling with a flickering crest.

It went by, and I followed it at something above walking pace until upon the very verge of the head-land, where I had no will to risk my neck, it halted and began to be heaved up and down much like the p.o.o.p-light of a vessel at sea. In this play it continued for an hour at least; then it came steadily back towards me by the way it had gone, and as it came I ran upon it with my dagger. But it slipped by me, travelling at speed towards the mainland; whither I pelted after it hot-foot, and so across the fields towards Pengersick. Strain as I might, I could not overtake it; yet contrived to keep it within view, and so well that I was bare a hundred yards behind when it came under the black shadow of the castle and without pause glided across the dry moat and so up the face of the wall to my lady's window, which there overhung. And into this window it pa.s.sed before my very eyes and vanished.

I know not what emboldened me, but from the porter's lodge I went straight up to my Master's chamber, where (though the hour must have been two in the morning or thereabouts) a light was yet burning.

Also--but this had become ordinary--a smell of burning gums and herbs filled the pa.s.sage leading to his door. He opened to my knock, and stood before me in his dressing-gown of sables--a tall figure of a man and youthful, though already beginning to stoop. Over his shoulder I perceived the room swimming with coils of smoke which floated in their wreaths from a brazier hard by the fireplace.

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