Part 18 (1/2)
”A second duel hath followed?” interrupted the Minister.
”Not so,” replied the other, ”but being suspicious of the fellows, my son did set a spy upon them, feeling sure that no honest errand took them into France.”
”And what did he discover?” asked Salisbury.
”That Winter and his companion sought many times audiences with certain high churchmen known to be enemies of England. Once, he chanced to meet them upon the street, when Winter flushed a scarlet and hastily pa.s.sed. After this he learned that two Englishmen, one a soldier who had served the King of Spain, gained the ear of certain prelates and n.o.blemen; that their conferences had been conducted with much secrecy, and having finished, the men left Paris in the night, taking poste for Calais.”
”And what then?” asked Salisbury, ”did thy son learn anything concerning those secret conferences?”
”No way was open to him,” answered Monteagle, ”but he thought it best to lay the matter before me; the more so that Winter and the other have returned to London.”
The Prime Minister pondered for a moment. ”Faith! my lord!” said he, ”thy zeal for the welfare of the State is most commendable, and the King shall know of it, but thy spirit is overwrought with idle fear.
What if certain Catholics in England have sought audience with those of their faith in Paris? Have we then fear of France? My word upon it, good Monteagle, that calm thought will quell thy doubts. Of this Thomas Winter I know something; a reminder of the luckless Ess.e.x, a gentleman whose zeal doth warp his reason, and who, should he presume too far, will feel the axe, I warrant. Thou sayest he is again in England; perchance he builds a castle which the sight of a line of soldiers will scatter to the winds. Again I thank thee for thy counsel, my lord, nor will I neglect such matters as pertain to the safety of the King. If it come to thee, that these dissatisfied Catholics grow too bold in speech, for I fear not other signs of treason, lay it before me, that I may stop their tongues, ere evil thoughts be planted in the minds of them who cry 'amen' to any wind of speech delivered in the market place.”
Monteagle arose, for he perceived 'twas useless to speak further of ill-defined plots and perchance groundless fears of treason against the King.
”I but considered it my duty as an English gentleman to look to the welfare of----” he began.
”Thou hast my confidence,” interrupted Salisbury, ”and though I seem to treat lightly thy suspicions they will be most carefully heeded should occasion arise. There be certain chambers in the Tower, where those too zealous in their faith may pa.s.s the time in prayer, thanking G.o.d the King is merciful, and stays the axe.”
Monteagle bowed and left the room. ”It may be,” he muttered, ”that my mind doth dwell too much upon this matter, but I know Sir Thomas Winter well, and there be certain of the Jesuits yet in England.”
CHAPTER XVII.
SOWING THE WIND.
Late of an evening near to Michaelmas, three men applied for admission at the door of a house close to the edge of the Thames, and which, by reason of its surroundings, a.s.sured security from observation to those who might choose to abide therein. Knocking upon the panel with the hilt of a heavy rapier which he had drawn from its scabbard, the shorter of the trio listened impatiently for the sounds which would precede the drawing of the bolts within. His companions, who were in the shadow of a neighboring wall, glanced about apprehensively.
”'Tis an ill-favored place, Sir Thomas,” whispered one, grasping tighter the hilt of his sword as though the touch of the steel might calm in a measure his disquietude. ”Scarce is it to my liking that friend Guido hath chosen so----”
His companion laughed uneasily. ”He hath a keen wit,” replied he, ”and much precaution is necessary that none suspect at the eleventh hour.
As thou seest, good Percy, 'tis a most peaceful region, with few abroad and no signs of the authorities.”
”Peaceful, indeed,” replied Percy, casting his eyes down the poorly lighted and narrow street through which he had come; ”so is a charnel-house, yet one would scarce----”
A second rap upon the door, delivered with increased force, interrupted the whispered conversation.
”Within!” growled Fawkes, bending so that his lips were on a level with the keyhole. ”Art sleeping, Master Keyes, or----”
The shuffling of feet answered, and a voice nearly inarticulate from drowsiness demanded in no gentle tones who sought admittance to an honest dwelling at so unseasonable an hour.
Upon Fawkes replying, the bolt was withdrawn, the door opened a few inches and the face of Master Keyes appeared in the aperture. The soldier of fortune motioned to his companions who quickly joined him.
”Good Robert, here, is a most cunning rogue,” said he half laughingly, ”having feigned sleep----”
The warden of the door forced a sneering smile. ”Faith!” said he, making way that the others might enter, ”'twas such feigning as may ever come to me when I would forget my troubles, and there be in my purse no silver to purchase that which is opposed to conscience. What wouldst thou, Guido Fawkes? that I sit upright in a corner from eventide till morn that thou be not kept waiting before the door? Ill was the day when, listening to thy words, I undertook this errand; thou art fain to wish that I may be blown to the devil by thy six and thirty barrels of----”
Fawkes hastily laid his open palm across the mouth of the irate man.