by Tom Bevan
Chapter II.
THE PLOTTERS.
The morrow after the storm was windless and genial; the morning steppedout from the east bearing the promise of a fine day; the tide wasrunning strongly to the sea. At Newnham the ferryman stood knee-deepin the water washing his boat and hoping for a fare. The man in blackcame down and was carried across to Arlingham. He asked many questionsconcerning the tides and the sands. The water ran like a mill-raceround the Nab, and the stranger crossed himself when he entered theboat, and again when the ferryman took him on his back to carry himthrough the shallow water and the mud. He paid the penny for thepassage, and then vanished quickly into the trees that shut in thevillage of Arlingham from the river. The boatman watched him curiouslyand fearfully; and when he was no longer visible he shivered, for acold chill was running down his spine. "Seems as though I'd carriedthe Evil One," he muttered; "he may halloo till he's as hoarse as hisblack children the crows ere I trust myself on the waters with himagain." He waded to his boat and rowed rapidly across stream once more.
The man in black gave neither thought nor look to the ferryman, butstrode along the woodland paths like one who had not a moment to spare.The broad Roman way stretched in a bee-line from the eastern shore tothe village, but the wayfarer never once set foot upon it. Swiftnessand secrecy marked every movement. The sun had been above the horizonscarce an hour when the mysterious stranger knocked at the door of afarmhouse that lay about a mile from the village and northwards towardsthe river. It was opened on the instant by the farmer himself, andbarred and chained again.
In the kitchen were four men, two of whom wore black doublet and hosen,black caps with a black feather, and were sallow-looking counterpartsof the last arrival. They stood up, bowed gravely, and sat down againwithout speaking.
"You have kept good tryst, my sons; did any man see you?"
"Not even the eye of the sun lighted upon us; we walked by the stars,"was the reply.
"Good! Now, your tidings.--Thine first, Basil."
The younger of the two men clad in black looked up. Hitherto he hadmaintained a strict silence, his eyes fixed on the floor. The facethat was lifted to the morning light was not a pleasant one. It waspasty, colourless, and shrunken as though from long fasting, but theeyes glittered in their dull sockets like a pair of black diamonds."Fanatic" was written large all over him. He was a monk released fromhis vows for the performance of special duties. His tidings were givenslowly in short, terse sentences.
"Admiral Drake is at Gatcombe."
The leader nodded. "I know it; I saw him yesterday," he said.
"He hath wind of our plot and a description of your person. Sir WalterRaleigh comes up from Bristol on this morning's tide. 'Tis given outthat he is visiting the Throckmortons, from which family he took hiswife. The truth is, that he comes to assist the admiral against us."
"Doth he bring troops?"
"No, but the admiral hath a royal warrant empowering him to call thefree foresters and miners to arms if need should arise."
"That is nothing."
"I have a list of those families that still profess the true faith.Almost to a man they place their country before their Church, andprefer to fight for their heretic Queen rather than the Holy Mother ofHeaven."
"The fiery pit yawns for them, my son!"
"But there are true sheep amongst these herds of goats. Two have Ibrought with me. Their eyes are opened. Wisdom and far-seeing dwellswith them. They value not the things of this world and the comforts ofthe body. They are sworn to serve the Holy Church to the death." Thespeaker turned to two rather hang-dog fellows who were squatted besidethe hearth. "Kneel, my brothers," he cried, "and receive a blessingfrom Father Jerome, a saint amongst men!"
"Tush! my son," said Father Jerome; "thou dost rate my poor worth athousand times too highly. The blessing I bestow is greater far thanhe is who bestows it; the gift is greater than the giver."
The whole company fell upon their knees, and Father Jerome toweredabove them. There was cunning in his sallow face, cruelty in thecorners of his mouth. He held his hands aloft and spoke low andmysteriously.
"When the Holy Father called me and entrusted me with my presentmission he gave me his blessing thrice repeated, and bestowed upon methe power of passing on that blessing to others. The blessing thenthat ye receive at my hands is the blessing of the Head of the Church.Kings have begged for it and have not obtained it; but ye are greaterthan kings." The disguised priest--for such was Father Jerome--placedhis hands on them one by one and murmured a long Latin invocation. Atthe end of this he addressed the farmer and the two foresters, who hadbeen beguiled into the plot, speaking in plain, forcible English.
"Your country," he exclaimed, "wallows in heresy and other deadly sins.For years hath it openly flouted and resisted the Church. The hour ofretribution is near. By sword and by fire must her sins be purged.The instruments of vengeance and punishment are appointed, and theleast of these am I. Before the sun hath run another yearly circlethrough the heavens a faithful prince shall hold power in this land.Many who are now in high estate shall be flung down, and there are somehumble ones that shall be mightily exalted. Think of that, my sons,and be true to the trust reposed in you!"
Father Jerome raised up his kneeling audience with a well-chosen wordof praise, promise, or encouragement for each one. Then he bade thefarmer set meat and ale before the two foresters, and took his twoclerical spies to the window-seat, where he conversed with them in lowtones.
"Thy two recruits, son Basil, are not overburdened with brains."
"The better shall they serve our purpose, my father. We want blindtools rather than thinking men. I have them in the hollow of my hand.Thews and sinews are theirs, and an intimate knowledge of the woods.If they will but carry out my bidding without question, I shall be wellcontent."
"Thou art right.--And now, son John, how hast thou sped upon thineerrands?"
"Well, father, the bracken will be fit to cut in a month. I haveordered loads to be prepared for me in all parts of the forest. Thesoil of the woodlands is everywhere green with the curling fronds; andwhere I do not cut, the foresters and miners will be preparing heaps tocarry away for litter and bedding. By the end of July the forestbeneath the oaks will be covered with a carpet of stuff as combustibleas tinder. Let us but fire it at Newnham, Littledean, Blakeney,Coleford, and at Speech by the courthouse, and we shall lay tens ofthousands of oaks in blackened ruin. Philip of Spain has but toscatter the present small navy of England, for no more ships can bebuilt, and there will be nothing to oppose his landing."
"Thou hast done well. Our plans are fully ripe, but apparently thetime is not quite come. We will separate for a month and remain instrict hiding. The admiral's suspicions are aroused. If we suddenlydisappear at the moment when he becomes active in searching for us, hisfears will be allayed. But at the appointed moment we must come forthwithout a sign of warning, do our work, and begone again. Our toolsmust be frightened into secrecy. I will do that. Let us now join themat breakfast."
It was not the fault of Father Jerome that the breakfast party was nota happy affair. Perfectly at ease himself, and satisfied with hismorning's work, he was in the mood for decorous jollity; but althoughhis two immediate satellites responded to his lead, and indulged in afew feeble jests, the farmer and foresters hardly vouchsafed a word ora smile. In part, maybe, this was due to the poverty of the wit oftheir sable companions, but the three were obviously ill at ease.Greed and a sort of religious fanaticism had brought them into theranks of the conspirators, but their national instincts were rebukingthem each moment. They felt traitors, and not all the sophistries ofthe priests--which put the Church first, and country a long wayafter--could ease their minds of a burden of shame. The chiefconspirator watched them narrowly, and some dark thoughts concerningthem ran through his mind.
The morning was advancing, and it behoved the plotters to separate.The leader gave them a few words of cauti
on and command, and then badethe farmer go to his work as though nothing unusual was afoot; the restwould vanish one by one into the surrounding woods or across the river.One of the foresters betook himself off immediately, journeying on toFrampton, where he had some relatives, his visit to them being anostensible reason for his presence on the wrong side of the Severn. Hewas a hard-faced fellow, with a pair of small, greedy-looking blueeyes. Father Jerome pressed his hand very affectionately at parting,and the man found three silver shillings sticking to his palm when hishand was free again. He strode away with a buoyant step, hismisgivings gone for the while.
The other woodlander arose the moment the door was closed behind hiscompanion.
"Wait a while, my son," said Jerome.
"I have something to say before I go."
"Ah! say on." The priest's face set somewhat sternly, for he did notlike the forester's manner.
The fellow began without hesitation, and spoke as a man whose mind wasfull of the matter whereon he talked. The three in black listened.
"Good father, I have sworn an oath to be thy servant in a certainbusiness."
"And thou canst not break that oath without hurling thy soul to eternaldamnation," was the stern rejoinder.
"It is not in my mind to break my oath."
"What then?"
"If thou wilt listen, I will show thee that perhaps it would be betterto release me from my vow."
"Impossible!"
"Listen. I am pledged to do a deed that the law will hold to betreason. I place myself in secret enmity to nearly every one of mycountrymen. Did they but suspect me, they would hang me without mercy.A dog in their eyes, I should meet a dog's death."
"Tut!" broke in the priest sharply, "thy reasoning is all wrong. Thou,for the sake of truth and right, art placing thyself like a secondDavid against a host of evil men. Dost hope for their good opinion?"
"But, good father," pleaded the fellow, "it doth not appear to me thatI am doing right. Queen Bess--God bless her!--lives in the hearts ofus all. Why should I work her a mischief in order to advance the Kingof Spain, whom we cannot but hate? Now, I bethink me, I have sworn toserve my Queen, but I have given no oath of fealty to the Pope. And asfor your religion, well, I am in most ways of one mind with you, and Ithink these Protestants to be no better than heretics. Master Basil,whose learning is wonderful, did persuade me for the nonce that my dutylay along the path you are treading; but my mind misgives me woefully,and I cannot see that it is an honest thing to work in secret againstthe whole body of my fellow-countrymen."
Jerome's face had darkened, and Basil's lips were working evilly.
"But the whole body of thy fellow-countrymen are wrong!" he hissed."God hath delivered them and their country into the hands of hisfaithful servant Philip."
"Then why doth Admiral Drake thrash the sailors of Philip whenever hemeets them? God surely only fights for the right!" replied theforester.
This was a facer for the ex-priest, and ere he could frame a retortJerome took up the matter again. "Thou hast said that thou art willingto keep thine oath."
"Not _willing_, but I will not willingly break it. My heart is nolonger in the enterprise. I shall be ashamed to look my neighbours inthe face. I shall fear their glances and despise myself. When thepinch comes, I may turn coward and do nothing. The whisper ofconscience is more terrible than the roar of a lion. What will itavail you to look for help to such a one as I?"
"If I release thee--?"
"My lips are sealed. I have learned your plans, but I am honest withyou. Be honest with me, and men shall tear out my tongue before I willspeak a word of you or your plot."
Jerome sat silent for a few moments. Suddenly he started up.
"Thou art an honest fellow," he exclaimed, "and I believe thee.Half-hearted men are useless to me. Thou art released from thine oath.Go!"
Basil started to protest, but his leader placed his hand on his lips.The forester went out, feeling as though a mountain had been liftedfrom his shoulders. He disappeared at a turn in the lane. Then Jeromespoke. "Thou art our lay-brother, Basil. That man must not cross theriver."
Basil nodded and went out. Whilst Jerome yet watched him, slippingfrom cover to cover, the farmer re-entered, a look of mingled fear andhesitation on his face. The priest turned instantly and noticed it.He laid his hand on his shoulder. "I am not yet gone, as thou seest.There is something I would show thee before I go."
For the space of about ten minutes the two stood in silence. Then thepriest said "Come," and led the farmer from the house. He followed inBasil's footsteps, and came at length to the foot of a dwarf oak. Aman lay there, his eyes glazing in death. Basil was wiping a dagger inthe bracken.
Jerome pointed to the dying woodsman. "That man doubted andhesitated," he said.
The farmer shuddered, and went white-faced homewards.
