Part 15 (2/2)

Garnet cast down his eyes, the soul of the priest struggling with dark apprehensions which arose within him. ”If there were any shadow of sin in it,” he murmured, ”I would not countenance the bringing of it to an issue. No other reason hath drawn me into it save ardent and active interest in the cause of G.o.d.” Then facing his companions he continued: ”'Tis the will of Christ that in the hands of His weakest subjects shall be placed the sword of vengeance which shall sweep these infidels from the land. Good Catesby hath oft pondered in his mind, with some impatience, the meaning of my check upon his zeal.

'Twas that I might seek through prayer a way to our deliverance. That the time is near a revelation hath been vouchsafed to me from heaven.”

A murmur ran through the little company. The priest's voice changed from tones of solemnity to those of one who spake with authority; and stretching forth the hand, he said: ”We are of one mind. Perchance Master Fawkes hath opened a way whereby shall be destroyed both the King and his Parliament. What can effect our purpose quicker than the flash of gunpowder? G.o.d hath placed it in our hand for us to use, and do His will. Yet other things remain; the door being opened, will those who watch us from abroad unite with us in restoring to this unhappy England its altars and its sacrifices? Sir Thomas Winter, thou hast been in France and Spain to do man's bidding; wouldst go thither in obedience to the will of G.o.d?”

Winter started, for the meaning of the other's words implied much. ”Is it a mission?” he asked, fixing his gaze upon the Jesuit.

”Aye!” replied Garnet; ”a mission of much danger, and one which will need all secrecy. At the Court of France dwell certain members of my Order, close to the King, and deep in affairs of State. Before them I will lay our undertaking, that when England shall be without a government and all the land involved in perplexity and beset with controversies, the armies of the Catholic Kings may come among us--the way being prepared for their entrance.”

A murmur of approval burst from Catesby, Rookwood and Percy. ”And if Sir Winter hesitates,” cried the former, ”I will----”

”Say no more,” interrupted Winter; ”this day week will see me at the Court of France.”

”And thou, friend Guido,” said Garnet, blandly, ”thou art of ready wit, and a good sword may be needful. Shall brave Winter go alone?”

Fawkes knitted his brows--”I little thought to again leave England so soon,” he replied, gruffly; ”yet ere another sunset will I be ready if thus I may serve the cause.”

A look of kindliness came into the Jesuit's eyes; the blind zeal of the man, a zeal that thrust all other thoughts aside, touched him, and with quick perception he saw in the rough cavalier one who, did all others fail, would with his single hand hurl the thunderbolt. Taking from his bosom a small silver crucifix, he laid it in Fawkes' hand.

”Give this,” said he, quietly, ”unto thy daughter; 'twill guard her during thine absence. Aye! and dost thou fear to leave her? I swear to thee, I will see to it that she lacketh nothing.”

Fawkes turned upon him a look of deep devotion. Bred in superst.i.tion, the fact that the priest understood that which troubled him--fear for the safety of his daughter--seemed a sign from heaven. He kissed the crucifix reverently, and put it in his bosom between the hard steel of his cuira.s.s and his heart.

Garnet turned to the group. ”One thing remains,” said he solemnly; ”'tis the oath which, registered before heaven, shall hold each to his purpose. Sir Digsby, let us to thy chapel, that beneath the shadow of the cross we may seek that blessing without which all our deeds are sinful, and our purposes as sand.”

Solemnly the little company, headed by the priest and Sir Everard, wended their way toward the chapel. No words were exchanged between them, for all were deep in thought. As they pa.s.sed into the chamber set aside for wors.h.i.+p, each reverently knelt and crossed himself, then took up a position in front of the altar. As it was late and the brief winter twilight faded from the sky, the chapel lay shrouded in deep gloom, relieved only by the red light burning in a hanging lamp suspended before the tabernacle, holding the consecrated elements. To the men there was something fearfully solemn in their surroundings.

Before them stood that altar for the preservation of which they were about to pledge their lives.

As their eyes became more accustomed to the subdued light, they beheld shadow-like forms slowly appear upon the walls, and while intently gazing, these apparitions gradually materialized and a.s.sumed definite shape, resolving themselves into paintings portraying the last scenes in the life of Christ. Penetrating everything was the clinging odor of incense, which, in some subtle way, brings to mind the awful majesty of G.o.d.

Presently Garnet emerged from the sacristy, bearing in his hand a flaming taper with which he lighted the candles on the altar. The Jesuit had placed over the costume which he wore a cope of deep red, richly embroidered with gold, and evidently the priest had not even laid aside his rapier, for its dull clank could be heard as he walked about. The rattle of the steel broke discordantly upon the deep silence, but was it not symbolic? A deed of violence was about to be committed, cloaked in the garb of religion!

Finis.h.i.+ng his task, he knelt before the altar in silent prayer. Then arising, he pa.s.sed to the gate of the rood screen, where his commanding figure was thrown into bold relief by the altar lights.

Presently seating himself, he said in low and solemn tones to the men kneeling in the darkness: ”Consider well, my brethren, the step ye are about to take; for he who turns back will be likened unto the woman who glanced over her shoulder at a city burning;--to pillars of craven cowardice would ye be changed--monuments to mark how men, even when their duty shone clear as though emblazoned on the azure vault of heaven, lacked heart to carry it out. Consider it well, then, all of you!”

The deep voice of the priest rose as he uttered the last words, and its resonant tone returned in echoes from the vaulted ceiling as if each statued saint from out his niche cried: ”Consider it well.”

”Are ye all prepared?” he asked. A deep ”All prepared” answered his question.

”'Tis well. Now shall I register your vows before the unveiled Host and upon the crucifix, that in the very presence of the Son of G.o.d ye may swear to perform them unto the end. To thee, my son,” continued the Superior, addressing Catesby, ”will I first administer the oath, for 'twas thy hand which was foremost to lift itself in the holy cause.”

The man arose and knelt before the Jesuit. ”Dost swear,” said the priest, holding a crucifix before the other's eyes, ”that as thou dost hope for salvation through the blood of Christ, so thou wilt yield thy blood if need be in this holy work; setting aside all else until a Catholic doth occupy the throne of England?”

”I swear it, father,” answered Catesby, reverently pressing his lips to the cross.

To every one of the eight did the Superior give the oath, and then took the same himself.

”And now,” said Garnet, when the men had once more resumed their places, ”do we proceed to administer to each the sacrament which alone can fill your minds and bodies with sufficient strength to carry out our holy purpose.”

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