Shrewsbury: A Romance

by Stanley John Weyman

  CHAPTER XXXVII

  Such a night ride as I have described, would have been impossible, orat least outrageously dangerous, a year or two later; when a horde ofdisbanded soldiers, dismissed from the colours by the Peace ofRyswick, took to the roads for a subsistence, and for a period, untilthey perished miserably, made even the purlieus of Kensington unsafe.

  At the time of which I write we ran risk enough, as has beendemonstrated; but the reasons which induced Smith to leave London atthat hour, and under cover of darkness, may be conceived. Apparentlythey did not extend to the rest of the journey; for, after lying lateat Rochester, we rode on by Sittingbourne to Feversham, and thenceafter a comfortable dinner, turned south by Badlesmere, and so towardsAshford, where we arrived a few minutes after nightfall.

  Those who are acquainted with the Old Inn at the entrance intoAshford will remember that the yard and stables are as conspicuous forsize and commodiousness as the house, a black and white building, alittle withdrawn from the street, is strikingly marked by the lackof those advantages. I believe that the huge concourse thither ofcattle-drovers at the season of the great fairs is the cause of this;those persons lying close themselves but needing space for theirbeasts. And at such times I can imagine that the roomy _enceinte_, andthose long lines of buildings, may be cheerful enough.

  But seen, as we saw them, when we rode in, by the last cold light of adull evening, with nothing clear or plain save the roof ridge, andthat black against a pale sky, they and the place looked infinitelydismal. Nor did any warmth of welcome, or cheerful greeting, such aseven poor inns afford to all and sundry, amend the first impression ofgloom and decay, which the house and its surroundings conveyed to themind. On the contrary, not a soul was to be seen, and we had riddenhalf way across the yard, and Smith had twice called "House! House!"before anyone was aroused.

  Then the upper half of a stable-door creaked open, and a man holdingup a great horn lanthorn, peered out at us.

  "Are you all asleep?" cried my companion. And when the man made noanswer, but still continued to look at us, "What is in the house," headded, angrily, "that you stick out your death's head to frightencompany? Is it lace or old Nantz? Or French goods? Any way, box itabout and be done with it, and attend to us."

  "Eight, master, right, I am coming," the man answered, suddenlyrousing himself; and opening the lower half of the door, he cameheavily out. "At your service," he said. "But we have little company."

  "The times are bad?"

  "Ay, they looked a bit better six months back."

  "But nothing came of it?"

  "No, worse luck."

  "And all that is called for now--is common Hollands, I suppose?"

  The fellow grinned. "Right," he said. "You have the hang of it,master."

  My companion slid to the ground, and began to remove his pistols andsaddlebag. "Still you have some guests, I suppose?" he said.

  "Ay, one," the man answered, slowly, and I thought, reluctantly.

  "Is he, by any chance, a man of the name of--but never mind his name,"Smith said. "Is he a surgeon?"

  The hostler or host--for he had the air of playing both parts--a bigclumsy fellow, with immobile features and small eyes, looked at usthoughtfully and chewed a straw. "Well, may be," he said, at last. "Inever asked him." And without more he took Smith's horse by the reinand lurched through the door into the stable; the lanthorn swinging inhis hand as he did so, and faintly disclosing a long vista of emptystalls and darkling roof. As I followed, leading in my sorry mare, ahorse in a distant stall whinnied loudly.

  "That is his hack, I suppose," said Smith; and coolly taking up thelanthorn, which the other had that moment set down, he moved throughthe stable in the direction whence the sound had come.

  The man of the house uttered something between an oath and a grunt ofsurprise; and letting fall the flap of the saddle which he had justraised that he might slacken the girths, he went after him. "Softly,master," he said, "every man to his----"

  But Smith was already standing with the lanthorn held high, gazing ata handsomely-shaped chestnut horse that pricking its ears turned agentle eye on us and whinnied again. "Umph, not so bad," my companionsaid. "His horse, I suppose?"

  The man with the straw looked the animal over reflectively. At lengthwith something between a grunt and a sigh, "He came on it," he said.

  "He won't go on it in a hurry."

  "Why not?" said the man, more quickly than he had yet spoken: and helooked from the horse to my companion with a hint of hostility.

  "Have you no eyes?" Smith answered, roughly. "The off-fore has filled;the horse is as lame as a mumper!"

  "Grammon!" cried the other, evidently stung. And then, "You know adeal about horses in London! And never saw one or a blade of greengrass, maybe, until you came Kent way!"

  "As you please," Smith said, indifferently. "But my business is notwith the horse but the master. So take us in, my good friend, and giveus supper, for I am famished. And afterwards, if you please, we willsee him."

  "That is as he pleases," the fellow answered sulkily. But he raised nosecond objection, and when we had littered down the horses he led theway into the house by a back door, and so along a passage and down astep or two, which landed us in a room with a sanded floor, a fire,and a show of warmth and comfort, as welcome as it was unexpected.Here he left us to remove our cloaks, and we presently heard himgiving orders, and bustling the kitchen.

  The floor of the room in which he had left us was sunk a little belowthe level of the road outside; and the ceiling being low and thewindow of greater width than height, and the mantel-shelf having forornament a row of clean delft and pewter, I thought that no place hadever looked more snug and cosy. But whatever comfort I looked toderive from surroundings so much better than I had expected, wasdashed by Smith's first words, who, as soon as we were alone cameclose to me under the pretence of unclasping my cloak, and in a low,guarded tone, and with a look of the grimmest, warned me to play mypart.

  "We go upstairs after supper, and in five minutes it will be done," hemuttered. "Go through with it boldly, and in twenty-four hours you maybe back in London. But fail or play me false, Mr. Price, and, byheaven, I put a ball through your head first, and my own afterwards.Do you mark me? Do you mark me, man?"

  I whispered in abject nervousness--seeing that he was indeed inearnest--that I would do my best; and he handed me a ring which wasdoubtless the same that the Countess had given to her woman. It had agreat dog cut cameo-wise on the stone, which I think was an opal; andit fitted my finger not ill. But I had no more than time to glance atit before the host and his wife, a pale, scared-looking woman, came inwith some bacon and eggs and ale, and as one or other of them stayedwith us while we ate, and watched us closely, nothing more passed.Smith talking indifferently to them, sometimes about the fruitharvest, and sometimes in cant phrases about the late plot, the arrestof Hunt at Dymchurch (who had been used to harbour people until theyhad crossed), how often Gill's ship came over, Mr. Birkenhead's manyescapes, and the like. Probably the man and woman were testing Smith;but if so, he satisfied them, for when we had finished our meal, andhe asked openly if Sir John would see us, they raised no objection,but the man, taking a light from the woman's hand, led the way up alow-browed staircase to a room over that in which we had supped. Herehe knocked, and a voice bidding us enter. Smith went in, and I afterhim, my heart beating furiously.

  The room, which resembled the one beneath it in being low in theceiling, looked the lower for the gaunt height of its one occupant,who had risen, and stood in the middle of the floor to receive us.Thin and spare by nature, the meagre and rather poor-looking dresswhich he wore added to the singularity of his aspect. With adry-as-dust complexion, and a three-days'-old beard, he had eyeslight-coloured, quick-glancing, and sanguine, and notwithstanding thedanger and uncertainty of his position, a fugitive in this waysidehouse, with a thousand guineas on his head--for I never doubted I waslooking on Sir John Fenwick--his manner was
at one moment arrogant andboastful, and at another dreamy. He had something of the air of avisionary; nor could any one be long in his company without discerningthat here was the very man for our purpose; one to whom all his geesewere swans, and a clasp of the hand, if it marched with his hopes andwishes, of as much value as a pledge signed and sealed.

  All this taken for granted, it is to be confessed that at first sightof us, his face fell, and his chagrin was unmistakable. "It is you.Smith, is it," he said, with a sigh. "Well, well, and I thought it wasBirkenhead. Brown said it was not, but I thought that it must be. Itis not every one knows Birkenhead when he sees him."

  "No, Sir John, that is true."

  "However, I shall see him in the morning. I go on board at New Romneyat four, and doubtless he will be with Gill. When we come back----"

  "Ah, Sir John, times will be changed then!" Smith said.

  "They will, sir, with this Dutch crew and their low beast of a masterswept into the sea! And gentlemen in their homes again! I have beenamusing myself even now," he continued, his eyes wandering to thetable on which lay a litter of papers, an inkhorn, and two snuffycandles, "with plans for a new wing at Fenwick Hall, in the old style,I think, or possibly on the lines of the other house at Hexham. I amdivided between the two. The Hall is the more commodious; the oldAbbey has greater stateliness. However, I must put up my scripts nowfor I must be in the saddle in an hour. Have you commands for theother side of the water, Mr. Smith? If so I am at your service."

  Smith answered with a little hesitation, "Certainly, my business hasto do with that, Sir John." And he was proceeding to explain when thebaronet, rubbing his hands in glee, cut him short.

  "Ha! I thought so," he cried, beaming with satisfaction. "Faith, it isso with everyone. They are all of a tale. My service, and my respects,and my duty--all to go you know where; and it is 'Make it straight forme. Sir John,' and 'You will tell the King, Sir John?' and 'Answer forme as for yourself, Sir John!' all day long when they can come at me.Why, man, you know something, but you would be surprised what messagesI am carrying over. And when people have not spoken they have told meas much by a look; and those the least likely. Men who ten years agowere as black Exclusionists as old Noll himself!"

  "I can believe it, Sir John," said Smith with gravity, while I, whoknew how the late conspiracy had united the whole country in KingWilliam's defence, so that the man who refused to sign the Common'sAssociation to that end went in peril of violence, listened with asmuch bewilderment as I had felt three minutes before, on hearing howthis same man, a fugitive and an outlaw, bound beyond seas, had beenemploying his time!

  However, he was as far from guessing what was in my mind as he wasfrom doubting Smith's sincerity; and encouraged by the latter's assenthe continued: "It is parlous strange to me, Mr. Smith, how the drunkenDutch boor stands a day! Strange and passing strange! But it cannotlast. It will not last out the year. These executions have openedmen's eyes finely! And by Christmas we shall be back."

  "A merry Christmas it will be," said Smith. "Heaven grant it. But youhave not asked, Sir John, who it is I have with me."

  At that and at a sign he made me, I let fall the collar of the cloak Iwas wearing; which, in obedience to his directions, I had hithertokept high about my chin. Sir John, his eyes drawn to me, as much by myaction as by Smith's words, stared at me a moment before his mouthopened wide in recognition and surprise. Then, "I--I am surely notmistaken!" he cried, advancing a step, while the colour rose in hissallow face. "It is--it certainly is----"

  "Sir John," Smith cried in haste, and, he, too, advanced a step andraised a hand in warning, "this is Colonel Talbot! Colonel Talbot,mark you, sir; I am sure you understand me, and the reasons which makeit impossible for any but Colonel Talbot to visit you here. He hasdone me the honour to accompany me. But, perhaps," he continued,checking himself with an air of deference, "it were more fitting Ileft you now."

  "No," I said hurriedly, repeating the lesson I had learned by rote,and in which Smith had not failed to practice me a dozen times thatday. "I am here to one end only--to ask Sir John Fenwick to do ColonelTalbot a kindness; to take this ring and convey it with my service andduty--whither he is going."

  SIR JOHN ... STARED AT ME A MOMENT]

  "Oh, but this is extraordinary!" Sir John cried, lifting his hands andeyes in a kind of ecstasy. "This is a dispensation! A providence! But,my lord," he continued with rapture, "there is one more step you maytake, one more effort you may make. Be the restorer, the Monk of thisgeneration! So ripe is the pear that were you to ride through the Cityto-morrow, and proclaim our rightful sovereign, not a citizen butwould bless you, not a soldier but would throw down his pike! TheBlues are with us to a man, and enraged besides at Keyes's execution.And the rest of the army--do you dream that they see Dutch colonelspromoted and Dutch soldiers overpaid, and do not resent it? I tellyou, my lord--your Grace, I should say, for doubtless the King willconfirm it."

  "Sir John," I said hastily, assuming an anger I did not feel. "Youmistake me. I am Colonel Talbot and no other. And I am here not tolisten to plans or make suggestions, but to request a favour at yourhands. Be good enough to convey that ring with my service whither youare going."

  "And that is all?" he cried reproachfully. "You will say no more?"

  "That is all, sir," I answered; and then catching Smith's eye, Iadded, "Save this. You may add that, when the time comes, I shall knowwhat to do, and I shall do it."

  This time, sobered by my words and manner, he took in silence the ringI proffered; but having glanced at it, gave way to a second burst ofrapture and Jubilation, more selfish and personal than the first, butnot less hearty. "This will be the best news Lord Middleton has hadfor a twelvemonth!" he cried gleefully. "And that I should succeedwhere I am told that he failed! Gad! I am the proudest man in England,your Grace--Colonel Talbot, I mean. We will pound Melfort and thatfaction with this! We will pound them to powder! He has wasted half amillion and not got such an adherent! Good Lord, I shall not rest nowuntil I am across with the news."

  "Nor I--until Colonel Talbot is on the road again," said Smith,intervening deftly. "At the best this is no very safe place for him."

  "That is true," said Sir John, with ready consideration. "And I shouldbe riding within the half-hour. But to Romney. You, I suppose, returnto London?"

  "To London," I said, mechanically.

  "Direct?" said he, with deference.

  "As directly as we dare," Smith answered; and with the word moved tothe door and opened it. On which I bowed and was for going out;perhaps with a little awkwardness. But Sir John, too deeply impressedby the honour I had done him to let me retire so lamely, startedforward, and snatching up a candle, would hold the door and light me;bending his long back, and calling to Brown to look to us--to look tous! Nor was this all; for when I halted half way down the stairs, andturned, feeling that such courtesy demanded some acknowledgement or atleast a word of thanks, he took the word out of my mouth.

  "Hist! Colonel Talbot!" he cried in a loud whisper; and leaning farover the stairs he held the light high with one hand and shaded hiseyes with the other. "You know that we have the Tower?"

  "The Tower?" I muttered, not understanding him.

  "To be sure. Ailesbury has it in his hand. It will declare for uswhenever he gets the word. But--you know it from him, I suppose?"

  "From Lord Ailesbury?" I exclaimed in sheer surprise. "But he is aprisoner!"

  Sir John winked. "Prisoner and master!" he muttered, noddingvigorously. "But there, I must not keep you. Good luck and _bonvoyage_, M. le duc."

  Which was the last I saw of him for that time. Nor did I ever see himagain save on one occasion. That he was a violent and factious man,and a foe to the Protestant succession I do not deny; nor that somepassages in his life do him little credit, and the most bruited theleast. But for all this, and though I was then even a stranger to him,I am fain to confess that as I stumbled down the stairs, and left thepoor misguided gentleman alone in his mean room to pa
ck up those plansfor the extension of the old house that would never again own aFenwick for its master, and so to set out on his dark journey, I feltas much pity for him, as loathing for the trickster who employed me.And so far was this carried and so much influence had it with me thatwhen we reached the room below and the landlord having left us to seeto the horses, Smith in his joy at our success clapped me on theshoulder, I shrank from his hand as if it burned me; shrank, and burstinto childish tears of rage. Naturally Smith, unable to comprehend,stared at me in astonishment. "Why, man," he cried, "what is thematter? What ails you?"

  "You!" I said. "You, curse you."