Volume II Part 10 (1/2)
”Thou mayest depart, and ere morrow we will give thee a largess for thy dexterity.”
d.i.c.k did not care to be long a-snuffing the chill air of the vaults and pa.s.sages after his dismissal, but in a warm cell near the kitchen fire he was soon wrapped in the delights of oblivion. Such, however, was the importance of the doc.u.ments he had so strangely intercepted, that a messenger was immediately despatched to London with a packet for the Privy Council.
The same morning, with the early dawn, the abbot and his secretary were together in the cloisters. It was a fitting place and opportunity either for intrigue or devotion, and many a masterstroke of church policy has issued from those dim and sepulchral arches in ”the Glen of the deadly Nightshade.”
”Craft is needful, yea laudable,” said the abbot, ”when we would cope with worldly adversaries, unless we could work miracles for our deliverance. But since in these degenerate ages of the church they have, I fear me, ceased, we must e'en employ the means that Heaven has put into our hands: and if I mistake not, this envoy of ours will be a skilful craftsman for the purpose. Under that garb of silly speech there's a cunning and a wary spirit. Thou didst note well his ready-witted contrivance last night.”
”Yea, and the skill too with which he compa.s.sed his expedients, and the ingenuity that prevented the disclosure of his treachery, in arresting the real messenger, and thus keeping them in the dark at the castle yonder until we have had time to countervail their plots. Could he be made to play his part according to our instructions, an agent like him were worth having. Besides he knows every c.h.i.n.k and cranny about the castle, so that he could jump on them unawares.”
”I am not much given to implicit credence in supernatural devices,”
said the abbot, ”or visible manifestations of the arch-enemy; yet have our chronicles not scrupled to give their testimony to the truth of such appearances; and it is, moreover, plain, from the papers we have read, that the conspirators themselves believe in the existence of some supernatural presence amongst them, by which they are holpen.”
He drew a billet from his bosom:--”I have kept this writing alone, as thou knowest,” continued the abbot, ”for our guidance. Listen again to the confessions of yonder rebellious and it may be credulous priest:--
”We are sure of success. The n.o.ble Margaret hath, by her wondrous art, together with the exercise of prayer and fasting, fenced us about as with a triple barrier, that no earthly might shall overcome. A power attends us that will magnify our cause, and lay our foes prostrate.
'Tis a mystery even to us, but a being appears unexpectedly at times, and by his counsels we are guided. We know not whence he comes, nor whither he goes; but his path is with us, and his presence, though generally invisible, not without terror, even to ourselves.”
”'Tis a strange delusion this, if it be one; for it is plain they have been ably counselled. Whilst they retain the castle their position may be reckoned as impregnable. It is a powerful support, on which they have placed the lever of their rebellion.”
”And in what way purpose you to entice them from it? Methinks it were in vain to make the attempt, if guarded and counselled by supernatural advisers.”
”I believe in no such improbabilities. Listen. We have heard, as thou knowest, that a strange figure, m.u.f.fled in close garments, steals forth, at times, by the southern cliff into the pa.s.sage there, under the foundations. This, doubtless, will be the emissary referred to in the despatch. 'Tis of a surety some person about the camp, concealed, in all likelihood, even from the leaders themselves; but employed by yonder ambitious restless woman, to control and direct their operations by a pretendedly miraculous and supernatural influence. It is the way in which the vulgar and the superst.i.tious are most easily led. Fanaticism is a powerful engine wherewith to combine and wield the scattered energies of the mult.i.tude. Besides, their plans are well laid, as we have seen by the despatches, and many and powerful are the helps by which they hope to accomplish their designs. Should they succeed, our destruction is certain. Yet could we draw them forth from our fortress, we might look to the issue undisturbed. The king will then dispose of them, and few will dare to interrupt us in the quiet possession of our privileges.”
”How purpose you to entice them forth?” again inquired the secretary.
”If properly tutored, our messenger from the kitchen, d.i.c.k Empson, will doubtless be a fitting agent for this deed. He must be well furnished with means and appliances against discovery.”
”Leave him to my care. I can work with untoward tools, and make them useful too upon occasion.”
”The prisoner, whom he so craftily seized and brought hither, is yet safe in the dungeon?”
”He is, my lord.”
”There he must lie, at any rate, until our plans be accomplished.”
”We know not yet unto whom these communications were to have been conveyed.”
”No; but doubtless, from their tenor, to some person of great note. It may have been to one even about the person of royalty itself, for this treason hath deep root, and its branches are widely spread throughout the land.”
”Shall we put him to the question?”
”Nay, let present difficulties be brought to issue first; afterwards we shall be able to inquire, and with more certainty, as to the line of examination we should pursue.”
The speakers separated, one to communicate with d.i.c.k Empson, and prepare him for the important functions he would have to perform; the other to his lodgings, where he might ruminate undisturbed on the events then about to transpire, and of which he hoped, finally, to reap the advantage.
It was past midnight, and the flickering embers threw a doubtful and uncertain gleam, at intervals, through the royal chamber, as it was then called, in the Castle of Fouldrey. All around was so still that the tramp of the sentry sounded like the tread of an armed host; sounds being magnified to a degree almost terrific, in the absence of others by which their intensity may be compared. Even the dash of the waves below the walls was heard in the deep and awful stillness of that portentous night.
Simon started from the pallet whereon he lay, beside the couch of his master, at times looking wildly round, as though just rousing from some unquiet slumber, expecting, yet fearful of alarm. He lay down again with a deep sigh, muttering an Ave or a Paternoster as he closed his eyes. Again he raised his head, and a dark figure stood before him.