House of Torment

by Guy Thorne

  CHAPTER VI

  A KING AND A VICTIM. TWO GRIM MEN

  There was a "Red Mass," a votive Mass of the Holy Ghost, sung on thenext morning in the Tower.

  The King and Queen, with all the Court, were present.

  Johnnie knelt with the gentlemen attached to the persons of the King andQueen, the gentlemen ushers behind them, and then the military officersof the guard.

  The _Veni Creator Spiritus_ was intoned by the Chancellor, and the musicof the Mass was that of Dom Giovanni Palestrina, director of sacredmusic at the Vatican at that time.

  The music, which by its dignity and beauty had alone prevented theCouncil of Trent from prohibiting polyphonic music at the Mass, had amarvellous appeal to the Esquire. It was founded upon a _canto fermo_, amelody of an ancient plain song of the Middle Ages, and used in HighMass from a very remote period.

  The six movements of the Kyrie, Gloria, Credo, Sanctus, Benedictus, andAgnus Dei were of a superlative technical excellence. The trained ear,the musical mind, were alike enthralled by them. Tinel, Waddington, andChristopher Tye had written no music then, and the mellow angelicharmonies of Messer Palestrina were all new and fresh in theirinspiration of dignity, grandeur, and devotion, most precious incense,as it were, about the feet of the Lord.

  The Bishop of London was celebrant, and Father Deza deacon. The Queenand King received in the one Kind, while two of the re-establishedCarthusians from Sheen, and two Brigittine monks from Sion, held a whitecloth before Their Graces.

  This was not liked by many there--it had always been the privilege ofpeers.

  But of this Commendone knew nothing. The hour was for him one of thedeepest devotion and solemnity. He had not slept all the night long. Fora few moments he had seen Elizabeth, had spoken with her, had held herby the hand. His life was utterly and absolutely changed. His mind,excited with want of sleep, irrevocably stamped and impressed by theoccupation of the last two days, was caught up by the exquisite musicinto a passionate surrender of self as he vowed his life to God and hislady.

  Earth and all it held--save only her--was utterly dissolved and sweptaway. An unspeakable peace and stillness was in his heart.

  Much, we read, is required from those to whom much is given, and Johnniewas to go through places far more terrible than the Valley of theShadow of Death ever is to most men before he saw the Dawn.

  When the Mass was said--the final "_Missa est_" was to ring in the youngman's ears for many a long day--he went to breakfast. He took nothing inthe Common Room, however, but John Hull brought him food in his ownchamber.

  The man's brown, keen face beamed with happiness. He was like somefaithful dog that had lost one master and found another. He could not doenough for Johnnie now--after the visit to Mr. Cressemer's house. Hetook charge of him as if he had been his man for years. There was aquiet assumption which secretly delighted Commendone. There they were,master and man, a relationship fixed and settled.

  On that afternoon there was to be a tournament in the tilting yard, andJohnnie meant to ride--he had nearly carried away the ring at the lastjoust. Hull knew of it--in a few hours the fellow seemed to have falleninto his place in an extraordinary fashion--and he had been busy withhis master's armour since early dawn.

  While Johnnie was making his breakfast, though he would very willinglyhave been alone, and indeed had retired for that very purpose, Hull camebustling in and out of the armour-room his face a brown wedge ofpleasure and excitement. The _volante piece_, the _mentonniere_, the_grande-garde_ of his master's exquisite suite of light Milan armourshone like a newly-minted coin. The black and lacquered _cuirasse_,with a line of light blue enamel where it would meet the gorget, wasoiled and polished--he had somehow found the little box of bandrols withthe Commendone colour and cypher which were to be tied above thecoronels of Johnnie's lances.

  And all the time John Hull chattered and worked, perfectly happy,perfectly at home. Already, to Commendone's intense amusement, the manhad become dictatorial--as old and trusted servants are. He had got somepowder of resin, and was about to pour it into the jointed steelgauntlet of the lance hand.

  "It gives the grip, master," he said. "By this means the hand fittethbetter to the joints of the steel."

  "But 'tis never used that I know of. 'Tis not like the grip of a barehand on the ash stave of a pike...."

  There was a technical discussion, which ended in Johnnie's defeat--atleast, John Hull calmly powdered the inside of the glaive.

  He was got rid of at last, sent to his meal with the other serving-men,and Commendone was left alone. He had an hour to himself, an hour inwhich to recall the brief but perfect joy of the night before.

  They had taken him to Elizabeth after supper, his good host and hostess.There was something piteously sweet in the tall slim girl in her blackdress--the dear young mouth trembling, the blue eyes full of a mist ofunshed tears, the hair ripest wheat or brownest barley.

  She had taken his hand--hers was like cool white ivory--and listened tohim as a sister might.

  He had sat beside her, and told her of her father's glorious death. Hisdark and always rather melancholy face had been lit with sympathy andtenderness. Quite unconscious of his own grace and grave young dignity,he had dwelt upon the Martyr's joy at setting out upon his last journey,with an incomparable delicacy and perfection of phrase.

  His voice, though he knew it not, was full of music. His extreme goodlooks, the refinement and purity of his face, came to the poor childwith a wonderful message of consolation.

  When he told her how a brutal yeoman had thrown a faggot at theArchdeacon, she shuddered and moaned a little.

  Mr. Cressemer and his sister looked at Johnnie with reproach.

  But he had done it of set purpose. "And then, Mistress Elizabeth," hecontinued, "the Doctor said, 'Friend, I have harm enough. What needeththat?'"

  His hand had been upon his knee. She caught it up between herown--innocent, as to a brother, unutterably sweet.

  "Oh, dear Father!" she cried. "It is just what he would have said. It isso like him!"

  "It is liker Christ our Lord," Robert Cressemer broke in, his deep voiceshaking with sorrow. "For what, indeed, said He at His cruel nailing?'[Greek: Pater, aphes autois ou gar oidasi ti poiusi.]'"

  ... And then they had sent Johnnie away, marvelling at the goodness,shrewdness, and knowledge of the Alderman, with his whole being one sobof love, pity, and protection for his dear simple mourner--so crystalclear, so sisterlike and sweet!

  * * * * *

  It was time to go upon duty.

  Johnnie looked at his thick oval watch--a "Nuremberg Egg," as it wascalled in those days--cut short his reverie of sweet remembrance, andwent straight to the King Consort's wing of the Palace.

  When he was come into the King's room he found him alone with Torrome,his valet, sitting in a big leather-covered arm-chair, his ruff anddoublet taken off, and wearing a long dressing-gown of brown stuff, afriar's gown it almost seemed.

  The melancholy yellow face brightened somewhat as the Esquire came in.

  "I am home again, Senor," he said in Spanish, though "_en casa_" was theword he used for home, and that had a certain pathos in it. "There is a_torneo_, a _justa_, after dinner, so they tell me. I had wished to ridemyself, but I am weary from our _viajero_ into the country. I shall sitwith the Queen, and you, Senor, will attend me."

  He must have seen a slight, fleeting look of disappointment uponCommendone's face.

  Himself, as the envoy Suriano said of him in 1548, "deficient in thatenergy which becometh a man, sluggish in body and timid in martialenterprise," he nevertheless affected an exaggerated interest in manlysports. He had, it is true, mingled in some tournaments at Brussels inthe past, and Calvera says that he broke his lances, "very much to thesatisfaction of his father and aunts." But in England, at any rate, hehad done nothing of the sort, and his voice to Commendone was almostapologetic.

  "We will break a lance together some day," he said, "but you
must foregothe lists this afternoon."

  Johnnie bowed very low. This was extraordinary favour. He knew, ofcourse, that the King would never tilt with him, but he recognised thecompliment.

  He knew, again, that his star was high in the ascendant. The son of thegreat Charles V was reserved, cautious, suspicious of all men--exceptwhen, in private, he would unbend to buffoons and vulgar rascals likeSir John Shelton--and the icy gravity of his deportment to courtiersseldom varied.

  Commendone was quite aware that the King did not class him with men ofShelton's stamp. He was the more signally honoured therefore.

  "This night," His Grace continued, "after the jousts, your attendancewill be excused, Senor. I retire early to rest."

  The Esquire bowed, but he had caught a certain gleam in the King's smalleyes. "Duck Lane or Bankside!" he thought to himself. "Thank God he hathnot commanded me to be with him."

  Johnnie was beginning to understand, more than he had hitherto done,something of his sudden rise to favour and almost intimacy. The KingConsort was trying him, testing him in every way, hoping to find atlength a companion less dangerous and drunken, a reputation less blownupon, a servant more discreet....

  He could have spat in his disgust. What he had tolerated in othersbefore, though loftily repudiated for himself, now became utterlyloathsome--in King or commoner, black and most foul.

  The King wore a mask; Johnnie wore one also--there was _finesse_ in thegame between master and servant. And to-night the King would wear aliteral mask, the "_maschera_," which Badovardo speaks of when he setdown the frailties of this monarch for after generations to read of:"_Nelle piaceri delle donne e incontinente, predendo dilletationed'andare in maschera la notte et nei tempi de negotii gravi_."

  Then and there Johnnie made a resolution, one which had been nascent inhis mind for many hours. He would have done with the Court as soon asmay be. Ambition, so new a child of his brain, was already dead. Hewould marry, retire from pageant and splendour even as his father haddone years and years ago. With Elizabeth by his side he would once morelive happily among the woods and wolds of Commendone.

  Torrome, the _criado_ or valet, came into the room again from thebed-chamber. His Highness was to change his clothes once more--at highnoon he must be with the Queen upon State affairs. The Chancellor andLord Wharton were coming, and with them Brookes, the Bishop ofGloucester, the papal sub-delegate, and the Royal Proctors, Mr. Martinand Mr. Storey.

  The prelates, Ridley and Latimer, were lying in prison--their ultimatefate was to be discussed on that morning.

  The King had but hardly gone into his bed-chamber when the door of theCloset opened and Don Diego Deza entered, unannounced, and with themanner of habitude and use.

  He greeted Commendone heartily, shaking him by the hand withconsiderable warmth, his clear-cut, inscrutable face wearing anexpression of fixed kindliness--put on for the occasion, meant to appearsincere, there for a purpose.

  "I will await His Grace here," the priest said, glancing at the doorleading to the bedroom, which was closed. "I am to attend him to theCouncil Chamber, where there is much business to be done. So next week,Mr. Commendone, you'll be at Whitehall! The Court will be gayerthere--more suited to you young gallants."

  "For my part," Johnnie answered, "I like the Tower well enough."

  "Hast a contented mind, Senor," the priest answered brightly. "But I hapto know that the Queen will be glad to be gone from the City. This hathbeen a necessary visit, one of ceremony, but Her Grace liketh the Palaceof Westminster better, and her Castle of Windsor best of all. I shallmeet you at Windsor in the new year, and hope to see you more advanced.Wilt be wearing the gold spurs then, I believe, and there will be twoknights of the honoured name of Commendone!"

  Johnnie answered: "I think not, Father," he said, turning over his ownsecret resolve in his mind with an inward smile. "But why at Windsor?Doubtless we shall meet near every day."

  "Say nothing, Mr. Commendone," the priest answered in a low voice."There can be no harm in telling you--who are privy to so much--but Isail for Spain to-morrow morn, and shall be some months absent upon HisMost Catholic Majesty's affairs."

  Shortly after this, the King came out of his room, three of his Spanishgentlemen were shown in, and with Johnnie, the Dominican, and hisescort, His Highness walked to the Council Chamber, round the tower ofwhich stood a company of the Queen's Archers, showing that Her Gracehad already arrived.

  Then for two hours Johnnie kicked his heels in the Ante-room, watchingthis or that great man pass in and out of the Council Chamber, chattingwith the members of the Spanish suite--bored to death.

  At half-past one the Council was over, and Their Majesties went todinner, as did also Johnnie in the Common Room.

  At half-past three of the clock the Esquire was standing in the Royalbox behind the King and Queen, among a group of other courtiers, andlooking down on the great tilting yard, where he longed himself to be.

  The Royal Gallery was at one end of the yard, a great stage-box, as itwere, into which two carved chairs were set, and which was designated,as a somewhat fervent chronicler records, "the gallery, or place at theend of the tilting yard adjoining to Her Grace's Palace of the Tower,whereat her person should be placed. It was called, and with good cause,the Castle, or Fortress of Perfect Beauty, forasmuch as Her Highnessshould be there included."

  Johnnie stood and watched it all with eyes in which there was but littleanimation. A few days before nothing would have gladdened him more thansuch a spectacle as this. To-day it was as nothing to him.

  Down below was a device of painted canvas, imitating a rolling-trench,which was supposed to be the besieging works of those who attempted the"Fortress of Perfect Beauty."

  "Upon the top of it were set two cannons wrought of wood, and colouredso passing well, as, indeed, they seemed to be two fair field-pieces ofordnance. And by them were placed two men for gunners in cloth andcrimson sarcanet, with baskets of earth for defence of their bodieswithal."

  At the far end of the lists there came a clanking and hammering of thefarriers' and armourers' forges.

  Grooms in mandilions--the loose, sleeveless jacket of theircalling--were running about everywhere, leading the chargers trappedwith velvet and gold in their harness. Gentlemen in short cloaks andVenetian hose bustled about among the knights, and here and there fromthe stables, and withdrawing sheds outside the lists, great armouredfigures came, the sun shining upon their plates--russet-coloured,fluted, damascened with gold in a hundred points of fire.

  Nothing could be more splendid, as the trumpeters advanced into thelists, and the fierce fanfaronade snarled up to the sky. The GarterKing-at-arms in his tabard, mounted on a white horse with gold housings,rode out into the centre of the yard, and behind him, though on foot,were Blue-mantle and Rouge-dragon.

  The afternoon air was full of martial noise, the clank of metal, thebrazen notes of horns, the stir and murmur of a great company.

  To Johnnie it seemed that he did not know the shadow from the substance.It all passed before him in a series of coloured pictures, unreal andfar away. Had he been down there among the knights and lords, he feltthat he would but have fought with shadows. It was as though a weirdseizure had taken hold on him, a waking dream enmeshed him in its drowsyimpalpable net, so that on a sudden, in the midst of men and day, whilehe walked and talked and stood as ever before, he yet seemed to moveamong a world of ghosts, to feel himself the shadow of a dream. Oncewhen Sir Charles Paston Cooper, a very clever rider at the swingingring, and also doughty in full shock of combat, had borne down hisadversary, the Queen clapped her hands.

  "Habet!" she cried, like any Roman empress, excited and glad, becauseyoung Sir Charles was a very strong adherent of the Crown, and known tobe bitterly opposed to the pretensions of the Lady Elizabeth. "Habet!"the Queen cried again, with a shriek of delight.

  She looked at her husband, whose head was a little bent, whose sallowface was lost in thought. She did not venture to disturb his reverie,but glan
ced behind him and above his chair to where John Commendone wasstanding.

  "C'est bien fait, n'est-ce pas, Monsieur?" she said in French.

  The young man's face, also, was frozen into immobility. It did not wakento the Queen's joyous exclamation. The eyes were turned inwards, he washearing nothing of it all.

  Her Grace's face flushed a little. She said no more, but wonderedexceedingly.

  The stately display-at-arms went on. The sun declined towards hiswestern bower, and blue shadows crept slowly over the sand.

  A little chill wind arose suddenly, and as it did so, Commendone awoke.

  Everything flashed back to him. In the instant that it did so, and thedreaming of his mind was blown away, the curtain before his subconsciousintelligence rolled up and showed him the real world. The first thing hesaw was the head of King Philip just below him. The tall conical felthat moved suddenly, leaning downwards towards a corner of the arena justbelow the Royal box.

  Johnnie saw the King's profile, the lean, sallow jowl, the corner of thecurved, tired, and haughty lip--the small eye suddenly lit up.

  Following the King's glance, he saw below the figure of Sir JohnShelton, dressed very quietly in ordinary riding costume, and by theside of the knight, Torrome, the valet of His Highness.

  Both men nodded, and the King slightly inclined his head in reply.

  Then His Highness leant back in his chair, and a little hissing noise, asigh of relief or pleasure, came from his lips.

  Immediately he turned to the Queen, placed one hand upon her jewelledglove, and began to speak with singular animation and brightness.

  The Queen changed in a moment. The lassitude and disappointment wentfrom her face in a flash. She turned to her husband, radiant and happy,and once more her face became beautiful.

  It was the last time that John Commendone ever saw the face of QueenMary. In after years he preferred always to think of her as he saw herthen.

  The tourney was over. Everybody had left the tilting yard and itsvicinity, save only the farriers, the armour smiths, and grooms.

  In front of the old palace hardly a soul was to be seen, except thesentinels and men of the guard, who paced up and down the terraces.

  It was eight o'clock, and twilight was falling. All the windows werelit, every one was dressing for supper, and now and then littleroulades of flutes, the twanging of viols being tuned, the mellowclarionette-like voice of the _piccolo-milanese_ showed that the Royalband was preparing for the feast.

  Johnnie was off duty; his time was his own now, and he could do as hewould.

  He longed more than anything to go to Chepe to be with the Cressemersagain, to see Elizabeth; but, always punctilious upon points ofetiquette, and especially remembering the sad case and dolour of hislove, he felt it would be better not to go. Nevertheless, he took asheet of paper from his case into the Common Room, and wrote a shortletter of greeting to the Alderman. With this he also sent a posy ofwhite roses, which he bribed a serving-man to get from the Privy Garden,desiring that the flowers should be given to Mistress Elizabeth Taylor.

  This done, he sought and found his servant.

  "To-night, John Hull," he said, "I shall not need thee, and thou mayestgo into the City and do as thou wilt. I am going to rest early, for I amvery tired. Come you back before midnight--you can get the servant'spass from the lieutenant of the guard if you mention my name--and wakeme and bring me some milk. But while thou art away, take this letter andthese flowers to the house of Master Robert Cressemer. Do not deliverthem at once when thou goest, but at ten or a little later, and desirethem to be taken at once to His Worship."

  This he said, knowing something of the habits of the great house inChepeside, and thinking that his posy would be taken to Elizabeth whenshe was retiring to her sleep.

  "Perchance she may think of me all night," said cunning Johnnie tohimself.

  Hull took the letter and the flowers, and departed. Johnnie went to hischamber, disembarrassing himself of his stiff starched ruff, took offhis sword, and put on the cassock-coat, which was the undress for theyoung gentlemen of the Court when they met in the Common Room for ameal.

  He designed to take some food, and then to go straight to bed and sleepuntil his servant should wake him with the milk he had ordered, andespecially with the message of how he had done in Chepe.

  He had just arrayed himself and was wearily stretching out his arms,wondering whether after all he should go downstairs to sup or no, whenthe door of his bedroom was pushed open and Ambrose Cholmondely entered.

  Johnnie was glad to see his friend.

  "_Hola!_" he said, "I was in need of some one with whom to talk. Youcome in a good moment, _mon ami_."

  Cholmondely sat down upon the bed.

  "Well," he said, "didst come off well at the tourney?"

  Johnnie shook his head. "I didn't ride," he said, "I was in attendanceupon His Grace, rather to my disgust, for I had hoped for some exercise.But you? Where were you, Ambrose?"

  "I? Well, Johnnie, I was excused attendance this afternoon. I madeinterest with Mr. Champneys, and so I got off."

  "Venus, her service, I doubt me," Johnnie answered.

  Ambrose Cholmondely nodded.

  "Yes," he said, "i' faith, a very bootless quest it was. A girl at aninn that I lit upon some time agone--you would not know it--'tis a bighostel of King Henry's time without Aldgate, the 'Woolsack.'"

  Johnnie started. "I went there once," he said.

  "I should well have thought," Cholmondely replied, "it would have beenout of your purview. Never mind. My business came not to a satisfactoryend. The girl was very coy. But I tell you what I did see, and that hathgiven me much reason for thought. Along the road towards Essex, where Iwas walking, hoping to meet my inamorata, came a damsel walking, by herdress and bearing of gentle birth, and with a serving-maid by her side.I was not upon the high road, but sat under a sycamore tree in a fieldhard by, but I saw all that passed very well. A carriage came slowlydown the road towards this lady. Out of it jumped that bully-rook JohnShelton, and close behind him the Spanish valet Torrome, that is theKing's private servant. They caught hold of the girl, Shelton clapped ahand upon her mouth, and they had her in the carriage in a moment andher maid with her--which immediately turned round and went back at aquick pace through Aldgate. I would have interfered, but I could not getto the high road in time; 'twas so quickly done. Johnnie, there will begreat trouble in London, if Shelton and these Spaniards he is sofriendly with are to do such things in England. It may go on well enoughfor a time, but suddenly the bees will be roused from their hive, andthere will be such a to-do and turmoil, such a candle will be lit aswill not easily be put out."

  Johnnie shrugged his shoulders. In his mood of absolute disgust with hissurroundings, the recital interested him very little. He connected it atonce with the appearance of Shelton and the valet at the end of thetourney, but it was not his business.

  "The hog to his stye," he said bitterly. "I am going to take somesupper, and then to bed, for I am very weary."

  Arm in arm with Ambrose Cholmondely, he descended the stairs, went intothe Common Room, and made a simple meal.

  The place was riotous with high spirits, the talk was fast and free, buthe joined in none of it, and in a very few minutes had returned to hisroom, closed the door, and thrown himself upon the bed.

  Almost immediately he sank into a deep sleep.

  He was dreaming of Elizabeth, and in his dream was interwoven the soundof great bells, when the fantastic painted pictures of sleep weresuddenly shaken violently and dissolved. They flashed away, and hisvoice rose in calling after them to stay, when he suddenly awoke.

  The bells were still going on, deep golden notes from the central cupolaover the Queen's Gallery, beating out the hour of eleven. But as theychanged from dream into reality--much louder and imminent--he felthimself shaken violently. A strong hand gripped his shoulder, a hoarsevoice mingled with the bell-music in his ears. He awoke.

  His little room wa
s lit by a lanthorn standing upon the mantel with thedoor open.

  John Hull, a huge broad shadow, was bending over him. He sat up in bed.

  "_Dame!_" he cried, "and what is this?"

  "Master! Master! She has been taken away! My little mistress! Mostfoully taken away, and none know where she may be!"

  Johnnie sprang from his bed, upright and trembling.

  "I took the letter and the flowers as you bade me. But all was sorrowand turmoil at the house. Mistress Elizabeth went out in the afternoonwith Alice her maid. She was to take the air. They have not returned.Nothing is known. His Worship hath fifty men searching for her, and hathhad for hours. But it avails nothing."

  Johnnie suddenly became quite quiet. Hull saw his face change. Thesmooth, gracious contours were gone. An inner face, sharp, resolute,haggard and terribly alive, sprang out and pushed the other away.

  "His Worship writ thee a letter, sir. Here 'tis."

  Johnnie held out his hand. The letter was brief, the writing hurried andindistinct with alarm.

  "DEAR LAD,--They have taken our Lizzie, whom I know not. But I fear the worst things. I cannot find her with all my resource. An' if _I_ cannot, one must dread exceeding. I dare say no more. But come to me on the instant, if canst. Thou--being at Court--I take it, may be able to do more than I, at the moment and in the article of our misfortune. The weight I bring to bear is heavy, but taketh time. Command me in every way as seemeth good to you. Order, and if needs be threaten in my name. All you do or say is as if I said it, and they that deny it will feel my hand heavy on them.

  "But come, dear lad. Our Lady help and shield the little lamb.

  "Your friend, "ROBERT CRESSEMER, "Alderman."

  Johnnie thrust the letter into his bosom."John Hull, art ready to follow me to the death, as it may be and verylike will?"

  "Certes, master."

  "Anything for her? Are you my man to do all and everything I tell theetill the end?"

  John Hull answered nothing. He ran out of the room and returned in aninstant with his master's boots and sword. He saw that the holsterpistols were primed. He took one of Johnnie's daggers and thrust it intothe sheath of his knife without asking.

  The two men armed themselves to the teeth without another word.

  "I'll be round to the stables," Hull said at length. "Two horses,master? I will rouse one groom only and say 'tis State business."

  "You know then where we must go?"

  "I know not the place. But I guess it. We hear much--we Court servants!"He spat upon the floor. "And I saw _him_ looking at her as the Doctorrode to Hadley."

  "Wilt risk it?--death, torture, which is worse, John Hull?"

  "Duck Lane, master?"

  "Duck Lane."

  "I thought so. I'm for the horses."

  A clatter of descending footsteps, a man standing in a little darklingroom, his hand upon his sword hilt. His teeth set, his brain working inice.

  Receding footsteps.... "Faithfullest servant that ever man had!"

  And so to the bitter work!