CHAPTER II.
THE YOUNG MAN IN THE CLOAK OF AMBER SATIN,
Guess, any of you, if these events disturbed my rest that night. 'Twasfour o'clock before I dropp'd asleep in my bed in Trinity, and my lastthoughts were still busy with the words I had heard. Nor, on the morrow,did it fair any better with me: so that, at rhetoric lecture, ourpresident--Dr. Ralph Kettle--took me by the ears before the wholeclass. He was the fiercer upon me as being older than the gross of myfellow-scholars, and (as he thought) the more restless under discipline."A tutor'd adolescence," he would say, "is a fair grace before meat,"and had his hourglass enlarged to point the moral for us. But evena rhetoric lecture must have an end, and so, tossing my gown to theporter, I set off at last for Magdalen Bridge, where the new barricadowas building, along the Physic Garden, in front of East Gate.
The day was dull and low'ring, though my wits were too busy to heedthe sky; but scarcely was I past the small gate in the city wall when abrisk shower of hail and sleet drove me to shelter in the Pig Market( or _Proscholium_) before the Divinity School. 'Tis an ample vaultedpassage, as I dare say you know; and here I found a great company ofpeople already driven by the same cause.
To describe them fully 'twould be necessary to paint the whole state ofour city in those distracted times, which I have neither wit nor timefor. But here, to-day, along with many doctors and scholars, werewalking courtiers, troopers, mountebanks, cut-purses, astrologers,rogues and gamesters; together with many of the first ladies andgentlemen of England, as the Prince Maurice, the lords Andover, Digbyand Colepepper, my lady Thynne, Mistress Fanshawe, Mr. SecretaryNicholas, the famous Dr. Harvey, arm-in-arm with my lord Falkland (whoseboots were splash'd with mud, he having ridden over from his houseat Great Tew), and many such, all mix'd in this incredible tag-rag.Mistress Fanshawe, as I remember, was playing on a lute, which shecarried always slung about her shoulders: and close beside her, a fellowimpudently puffing his specific against the _morbus campestris_, whichalready had begun to invade us.
"_Who'll buy?_" he was bawling. "'_Tis from the receipt of a famousItalian, and never yet failed man, woman, nor child, unless the heartwere clean drown'd in the disease: the lest part of it good muscadine,and has virtue against the plague, smallpox, or surfeits!_"
I was standing before this jackanapes, when I heard a stir in the crowdbehind me, and another calling, "_Who'll buy? Who'll buy?_"
Turning, I saw a young man, very gaily dressed, moving quickly about atthe far end of the Pig Market, and behind him an old lackey, bent doublewith the weight of two great baskets that he carried. The baskets werepiled with books, clothes, and gewgaws of all kinds; and 'twas the younggentleman that hawked his wares himself. "_What d'ye lack?_" he keptshouting, and would stop to unfold his merchandise, holding up now abook, and now a silk doublet, and running over their merits like anyhuckster--but with the merriest conceit in the world.
And yet 'twas not this that sent my heart flying into my mouth at thesight of him. For by his curls and womanish face, no less than the ambercloak with the black bars, I knew him at once for the same I had seenyesterday among the dicers.
As I stood there, drawn this way and that by many reflections, he workedhis way through the press, selling here and there a trifle from hisbaskets, and at length came to a halt in front of me.
"Ha!" he cried, pulling off his plumed hat, and bowing low, "a scholar,I perceive. Let me serve you, sir. Here is the 'History of SaintGeorge,'" and he picked out a thin brown quarto and held it up; "writtenby Master Peter Heylin; a ripe book they tell me (though, to be sure, Inever read beyond the title), and the price a poor two shillings."
"A scholar, I perceive. Let me serve you sir?"--Page 30.]
Now, all this while I was considering what to do. So, as I put my handin my pocket, and drew out the shillings, I said very slowly, lookinghim in the eyes (but softly, so that the lackey might not hear)----
"So thus you feed your expenses at the dice: and my shilling, no doubt,is for Luke Settle, as well as the rest."
For the moment, under my look, he went white to the lips; thenclapped his hand to his sword, withdrew it, and answered me, red as aturkey-cock----
"Shalt be a parson, yet, Master Scholar: but art in a damn'd hurry, itseems."
Now, I had ever a quick temper, and as he turned on his heel, was liketo have replied and raised a brawl. My own meddling tongue had broughtthe rebuff upon me: but yet my heart was hot as he walked away.
I was standing there and looking after him, turning over in my hand the"Life of Saint George," when my fingers were aware of a slip of paperbetween the pages. Pulling it out, I saw 'twas scribbled over withwriting and figures, as follows:--
"Mr. Anthony Killigrew, his acct for Oct. 25th, MDCXLII.--_Forherrings_, 2d.; _for coffie_, 4d.; _for scowring my coat_, 6d.; _atbowls_, 5s. 10d.; _for bleading me_, 1s. 0d.; _for ye King's speech_,3d.; _for spic'd wine (with Marjory)_, 2s. 4d.; _for seeing yeRhinoceros_, 4d.; _at ye Ranter-go-round_, 6 3/4d.; _for a pair ofsilver buttons_, 2s. 6d.; _for apples_, 2 1/2d.; _for ale_, 6d.; _at yedice_, L17 5s.; _for spic'd wine (again)_, 4s. 6d."
And so on.
As I glanced my eye down this paper, my anger oozed away, and a greatfeeling of pity came over me, not only at the name of Anthony--the nameI had heard spoken in the bowling-green last night--but also to seethat monstrous item of L17 odd spent on the dice. 'Twas such a boy, too,after all, that I was angry with, that had spent fourpence to see therhinoceros at a fair, and rode on the ranter-go-round (with "Marjory,"no doubt, as 'twas for her, no doubt, the silver buttons were bought).So that, with quick forgiveness, I hurried after him, and laid a hand onhis shoulder.
He stood by the entrance, counting up his money, and drew himself upvery stiff.
"I think, sir," said I, "this paper is yours."
"I thank you," he answered, taking it, and eyeing me. "Is thereanything, besides, you wished to say?"
"A great deal, maybe, if your name be Anthony."
"Master Anthony Killigrew is my name, sir; now serving under LordBernard Stewart in His Majesty's troop of guards."
"And mine is Jack Marvel," said I.
"Of the Yorkshire Marvels?"
"Why, yes; though but a shoot of that good stock, transplanted toCumberland, and there sadly withered."
"'Tis no matter, sir," said he politely; "I shall be proud to crossswords with you."
"Why, bless your heart!" I cried out, full of laughter at this childishpunctilio; "d'ye think I came to fight you?"
"If not, sir"--and he grew colder than ever--"you are going a cursedroundabout way to avoid it."
Upon this, finding no other way out of it, I began my tale at once: buthardly had come to the meeting of the two men on the bowling-green, whenhe interrupts me politely----
"I think, Master Marvel, as yours is like to be a story of some moment,I will send this fellow back to my lodgings. He's a long-ear'd dog thatI am saving from the gallows for so long as my conscience allows me. Theshower is done, I see; so if you know of a retir'd spot, we will talkthere more at our leisure."
He dismiss'd his lackey, and stroll'd off with me to the Trinity Grove,where, walking up and down, I told him all I had heard and seen thenight before.
"And now," said I, "can you tell me if you have any such enemy as thiswhite-hair'd man, with the limping gait?"
He had come to a halt, sucking in his lips and seeming to reflect--
"I know one man," he began: "but no--'tis impossible."
As I stood, waiting to hear more, he clapp'd his hand in mine, veryquick and friendly: "Jack," he cried;--"I'll call thee Jack--'twas anhonest good turn thou hadst in thy heart to do me, and I a surly rogueto think of fighting--I that could make mincemeat of thee."
"I can fence a bit," answer'd I.
"Now, say no more, Jack: I love thee."
He look'd in my face, still holding my hand and smiling. Indeed, therewas something of the foreigner in his brisk graceful ways--yet notunpleasing. I was going to say
I had never seen the like--ah, me! thatboth have seen and know the twin image so well.
"I think," said I, "you had better be considering what to do."
He laugh'd outright this time; and resting with his legs cross'd,against the trunk of an elm, twirl'd an end of his long lovelocks, andlooked at me comically. Said he: "Tell me, Jack, is there aught in methat offends thee?"
"Why, no," I answered. "I think you're a very proper young man--such asI should loathe to see spoil'd by Master Settle's knife."
"Art not quick at friendship, Jack, but better at advising; only in thiscase fortune has prevented thy good offices. Hark ye," he lean'd forwardand glanc'd to right and left, "if these twain intend my hurt--as indeed'twould seem--they lose their labor: for this very night I ride fromOxford."
"And why is that?"
"I'll tell thee, Jack, tho' I deserve to be shot. I am bound with aletter from His Majesty to the Army of the West, where I have friends,for my father's sake--Sir Deakin Killigrew of Gleys, in Cornwall. 'Tis asweet country, they say, tho' I have never seen it."
"Not seen thy father's country?"
"Why no--for he married a Frenchwoman, Jack, God rest her dearsoul!"--he lifted his hat--"and settled in that country, near Morlaix,in Brittany, among my mother's kin; my grandfather refusing to see orspeak with him, for wedding a poor woman without his consent. And inFrance was I born and bred, and came to England two years agone; andthis last July the old curmudgeon died. So that my father, who was anonly son, is even now in England returning to his estates: and with himmy only sister Delia. I shall meet them on the way. To think of it!"(and I declare the tears sprang to his eyes): "Delia will be a womangrown, and ah! to see dear Cornwall together!"
Now I myself was only a child, and had been made an orphan when but nineyears old, by the smallpox that visited our home in Wastdale Village,and carried off my father, the Vicar, and my dear mother. Yet his simplewords spoke to my heart and woke so tender a yearning for the smallstone cottage, and the bridge, and the grey fells of Yewbarrow above it,that a mist rose in my eyes too, and I turn'd away to hide it.
"'Tis a ticklish business," said I after a minute, "to carry the King'sletter. Not one in four of his messengers comes through, they say. Butsince it keeps you from the dice----"
"That's true. To-night I make an end."
"To-night!"
"Why, yes. To-night I go for my revenge, and ride straight from the inndoor."
"Then I go with you to the 'Crown,'" I cried, very positive.
He dropp'd playing with his curl, and look'd me in the face, his mouthtwitching with a queer smile.
"And so thou shalt Jack: but why?"
"I'll give no reason," said I, and knew I was blushing.
"Then be at the corner of All Hallows' Church in Turl Street at sevento-night. I lodge over Master Simon's, the glover, and must be aboutmy affairs. Jack,"--he came near and took my hand--"am sure thou lovestme."
He nodded, with another cordial smile, and went his way up the grove,his amber cloak flaunting like a belated butterfly under the leaf lesstrees; and so pass'd out of my sight.
The Splendid Spur Page 4
