The Grove of Eagles

by Winston Graham

  “And Arthur Lavelis?”

  “He is from home most days helping to dispense relief.”

  “But you can stay and talk?”

  “For a few minutes.”

  “Why are you so defensive?”

  “Only because I’m afraid.”

  “Of me?”

  She touched my hand. “Of what you’re going to ask.”

  We took a few steps down the grass lawn. At the end was a yew hedge which would hide us from the windows of the house. Before we reached it, she stopped.

  “Maugan, what are you going to ask?”

  “For you.”

  Her eyes in the bright windy sunlight were a cat’s green. “You know that can’t be.”

  “Even after what happened two weeks ago?”

  “That was—oh, it was something neither of us could fight against! It took hold before we were aware. But now we are aware.”

  “I’m only aware that I love you more and more.”

  “But I can’t betray the vows I made.”

  “You already have.”

  “I have said—that was something out of control—in the deepest part of the night.” When I made to speak she hastened on: “ Well, what are you suggesting?”

  “We could go away together. You were willing to agree to that two years ago.”

  “But then I was unmarried. We can’t marry now. We could live together, but you would lose whatever hope you have of preferment at home or at court.”

  “I can make my own way. Others have. I am a bastard; my children would be no less.”

  “And I, Maugan? I have made vows to be the wife of Philip Reskymer.”

  I pulled her round the corner of the yew hedge but she would not come into my arms. There was a surprising strength in her taut frame.

  “Wait, Maugan,” she said. “Wait. Wait.”

  “For what?”

  “For time to help us.”

  “Do you mean wait for your husband to die?”

  She winced. “No … Or yes … I don’t know. All I know is that at this time I can’t let him down.”

  “As you did me.”

  “I thought you were dead! He is not! He is working eighteen hours in the day trying to aid the people here. He is working all day, and the work on top of the shock of the raid has made him ill. Not serious ill, but sick and in need of help himself.”

  I let go of her hand and sat slowly on the stone parapet. “Sue, I can’t exist without you. If I’m not sick of body I’m sick of soul. Every night I lie awake thinking of you. Before I met you this time I was living a life which passed for contentment—it was no more but it passed. Now all that’s gone.”

  We stayed thus for a time and were so still that a blackbird hopped along the stone path watching us with a boot-button eye. Then Sue moved and he fluttered away with a chatter of alarm.

  “I don’t know what to answer, Maugan. Not yet. Not yet. In a year or two—”

  “What difference will that make?”

  “He’ll not need me so much. And you will surely have some profession …”

  I put my arms round her. “Did our one night mean so little to you that you can postpone its repetition for years?”

  “But this is the only way. The only way now! Don’t you see!”

  I began to kiss her. At first she seemed to be going under, her hands against me to be weakening their pressure, but of a sudden she thrust me away.

  “No, Maugan! Not now!”

  I said: “If you’ll not leave him, then let us at least be lovers. I can ride over. It’ll not be easy but it can be done. You say he’s often away …”

  She groped her way back to the wall and sat down, taking breaths. “And if I have a child?”

  “Then it will be time for you to leave him, for everyone to know of our love … Don’t shake your head, Sue. Please don’t. Please.”

  “But I must!”

  “Why? Why? Why?”

  She did not answer. Every now and then there was a spatter of rain in the wind.

  I said: “All this we have been talking of—it’s unreal. This is the wrong time, that is the right time … If we love each other and you don’t love him—all else is wasted words … Look at me, Sue. Tell me if it isn’t true.”

  But she would not look at me. I knelt beside her, stroked her hand. The lace of her sleeve fell over both our hands and covered them.

  I said: “ Do you love him?”

  “Not! I have said so!”

  “Yet you will stay with him?”

  “For the time. Go away, Maugan, for a few months, a year. Forget me for a year. Think about making your fortune, making a place in the world. Remember now, I’m quite safe—much safer than I was at Tolverne.”

  “How do I know that? If he loves you he won’t be able to keep aloof from you for ever. If you consider it your duty to stay with him now, you may then consider it your duty to submit!”

  “He will never press me.”

  “He isn’t pressing you to stay now. You consider you must!”

  “Darling, darling, there is so much difference.” She put up a hand to my face, but now a raw anger was bleeding inside me.

  “In this house—now there is this emergency—do you have a separate bedroom from him?”

  She hesitated. “ Not a— separate bedroom. A separate bed. He sleeps each night—”

  “So each night he sees you undress, sees you unbind your hair, sees you half naked—how long can that go on?”

  “Maugan!” She stood up. “ It isn’t so! You’re tormenting yourself without cause. While our own house is re-building, it is like this, but only until then. We preserve a decency—there is nothing of what you think.”

  “Whatever you say I don’t believe a man and a woman may share a room for weeks without intimacy growing—It’s a matter of time, Sue! It’s just the other way from what you say. Time is not on our side, it’s against us! It’s on his! Come away today, I beseech you. Let us go as we are. It’s of no importance where, so that we’re together. Once you said you would. You promised that before ever you met him. Mine is the prior claim.”

  She got up and put her fingers to my lips. I struck them away, almost insane with distress. She went very pale.

  “Maugan, please don’t let us part like this.”

  “We must part like this or not part at all!”

  She shook her head with sudden tightened decision.“ I will not come with you. Not now. I think my reasons are the right ones. God forgive me for making you unhappy. Come back in six months or a year.”

  “I think,” I said, “it would be better not to come back at all.”

  The weather was wild and wet all through August. According to my uncles, Cecil’s spies all reported that no big Armada was assembling to attack England that year, so the Queen reluctantly re-granted permission for Drake and Hawkins to sail. But such permission was only given on the undertaking that they were back by next May.

  Thus freed, they now found themselves land bound by rough seas and contrary winds, but at last on the 19th August a brief lull enabled them to get away.

  All Plymouth turned out, we were told, to see the great men off, church bells ringing, bands playing, flags fluttering in the breeze. We waited for a glimpse of them at Falmouth but they kept well clear. Harold Tregwin swore he had caught sight of their sails glinting in the sunset when he was casting out his lines off St Anthony Point.

  That day my father came in from a brush with the law, two bailiffs having attempted to serve processes upon him while he was in Truro, and he having laid about him with his whip and only just regaining his horse in time. One bailiff was thought to be hurt.

  I said: “You should not go out without someone of your family who can issue orders and more easily take the blame. This news will travel far.”

  “I can’t skulk behind my palisade all day long. If they come near me again they’ll suffer worse.”

  He turned to kick one of the dogs, which was snoring.
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  “I have heard further from Sir George Fermor this week, and he has seen fit to postpone his daughter’s marriage to John for a further six months. If as I suspect he means the time to run from the end of the first postponement, it will mean no wedding until May of next year!”

  “I wish I could help.”

  “Short of selling the stones of the house and the timber of the jetties there’s no way. I have some manors left, including Rosemerryn where my stepbrother drinks his guts rotten, but each manor is pledged to the hilt. If I sold them I should do no more than discharge the debt on them and have the price of a few packs of cloth over. I hope Fermor will burn in hell for this!”

  “Can you find no other match for John? There must be other rich men.”

  “Few who would give that sort of dowry. And we might get land or property which all takes time to raise money on. Gold in hand, I’m altogether stronger placed. Not that I should throw it to my creditors like meat to hungry wolves, the way my father did with your stepmother’s dote. In three years he had cleared all his debts, £10,000 of them, and we’d nothing left except leave to borrow anew! I have no such intent. This money shall be meted out, a bit here, a morsel there. Let my creditors once see the colour of gold and they’ll rest content with small commons. But I have to have some soon or we shall all perish!”

  “What of Thomas? He’s now fifteen.”

  “I saw your uncles about it when I stayed with them in May. But there’s little prospect for a younger son. What has he to offer but a famous name? It may well be different in a few years when, through our connections at court, he may have prospects of his own. But you can’t marry off a boy of that age with any profit unless he’s the eldest and will come into the estate.”

  “Still less,” I said, “ if he’s a bastard with no prospects at all.”

  Mr Killigrew went to the old square looking-glass and began tenderly to trim his moustache with a pair of needlework scissors. “Yes, well, that’s true, you’re small value to me socially, but you stay at my side. That’s use of another sort.”

  “I would gladly try to make my own way in the world.”

  “You didn’t enjoy your time with Chudleigh Michell. What other employment is there?”

  “Can I be found something with one of my uncles in Westminster or London? You have given me your name. That should be of value: I can work, I’m not without aptitude.”

  My father put down the scissors and dabbed some pomade on his moustache. “There’s something to be said for your idea, especially at this time. I did my best to clear up the fuss about the Irish ship, but no one’s satisfied and they’re still threatening me with Ferdinando Gorges. If he comes it would be of benefit if you were far away. These Penryn prattlers can do much less harm if the object of their prattle is not to be found.”

  “I’d like to go soon, sir.”

  He turned. “Why, what’s pricking you? Have you been up to some new prank?”

  “No, sir, I assure you.”

  “God help you if you have, for I’ll stand for no more.”

  I spent the afternoon duck shooting with Belemus beyond the swan pool, and after we came home I lingered in one of the barns helping to bale the wool ready for the webster, and so hoping to avoid Meg. I was the last to go in, and suddenly Dick Stable was in the doorway waiting for me. I greeted him casually but he did not answer, then abruptly he began to talk to me in such a stumbling voice that only a sentence here and there was audible.

  Some one had dropped a word or else he had grown suspicious himself; this was the outcome; half minatory, half supplicant; Dick had scarcely ever quarrelled with anyone in his life, and he was vastly aware of the difference in our station. The break of laughter never absent from his voice when he spoke was still there, but it was the laughter of a child which is hurt; sometimes near tears and sometimes near rage. His voice and manner deferred while his words accused.

  I was oppressed suddenly with a bitter rage in which the hopeless futility and wrongness of everything in the world choked me. I got up from among the bales, and Dick moved suddenly as if he thought he was to be hit.

  “What old wife,” I said, “has been pouring her evil thoughts in your ear? I thought you’d recovered from your cracked head.”

  He laughed nervously. “Nay, the story’s abroad for all to hear as will. Maybe as always it carries last to ’im as it most consarns. If ye—”

  I put my hand on his shoulder and spun him round. Again he half lifted his hands in defence. “ Listen, dolt. You were sick, out of your senses for weeks, months. Meg was half-crazed herself with worry. We thought you’d maybe sit whittling sticks on your stool for ten or fifteen years. Who was, to know? We tried everything. I went to the Footmarker witch in Truro; Meg went to old Sarah Pound at Menehay and borrowed her moonstone; it was under your pallet for a week; are those the acts of a wife and friend behaving lewdly together while your mind is closed?”

  “Aye, but—”

  “Hear me out. I have seen much of Meg: I admit it. So I did before ever you married her. We used to kiss and be a thought familiar before I was 15. But that’s different from what you are now vilely thinking. You don’t realise what a splendid wife you have in Meg. You do not. I’m telling you.

  “She was that worried for you, that rejoiced when you began to recover. While you were sick I saw much of her, I agree; we spent much time together as I have said, contriving how you might be aided back to health. Sometimes she would be deeply worried and in need of comfort. If I essayed to comfort her you need not entertain lewd thoughts on that account.”

  “I’m told you was seen creeping up to one of they attic rooms—”

  “Listen again! I do not creep anywhere. If I go I go openly. Show me the man or woman who told you that!”

  “Nay, I wouldn’t listen t’every tale. But twas common thought—”

  “All right, it was common thought. And common thought has erred. D’you understand me?”

  He blinked and then stared into my eyes. “Aye, I understand, Master Maugan. I’ve no wish to offend ye. If so be I’ve mistook it all then I ask pardon. But Meg ’ erself, Meg ’erself do appear different, changed. I think maybe she be no longer a love with me.”

  Hating the world, I put my arm round his shoulders. “Listen once again, Dick, and this time most careful. I’ve known Meg longer even than you, and I tell you she cares for you deeply. But she is a romantic girl, none more so, and love to her is something serious and romantical, not to be laughed at or jested over. Beware of your laughter. Suppress it. Take her serious, be moved by love, be moved by her. She’s a comely girl, Dick, young and full of spirit. I have not stole her from you, but another may if you don’t take care: Woo her. It’s not so tedious a thing to do. Nor is it so hard. Don’t imagine that you are foolish to gentle and flatter her; think of the prize. Her love. Her surrender.”

  He nodded his head, taking in perhaps one word in three but taking, I prayed to God, the general meaning. We walked together, lover and cuckold, towards the house like old friends.

  That night two ships anchored in Falmouth Haven. We knew they were English by their build and signs. My father said it was likely to be a part of the Drake and Hawkins fleet: they had no doubt suffered from the general adverse winds and been scattered, so were returning for shelter and rest. We watched them carefully through the night lest this should be a trick and they were roving Spaniards in disguise. Presently there came up one of those rare jewelled dawns which made the blue light on the river seem like some new and magic sky, and we were able to study in more detail the high poop of the When a little pinnace brought its master ashore we found it was Ralegh back from his trip to El Dorado.

  Chapter Nine

  He was as thin as a board, his handsome velvet suit hanging on him, his skin burned Indian brown by tropical suns. But he was well and abounding with vigour. So were his crews, such as were left; they brought no sickness, only tales of wondrous things.

  Many had died, m
ost in combat, including John Grenville, the great Sir Richard’s second son, Captain Calfield, the senior naval officer, and Captain Thynne, commander of another barque. It was thought that about eighty were left of the seven score gentlemen volunteers, and crews overall had been reduced by a third. It was not possible to be certain, for this arrival in Falmouth constituted only half the force.

  But their worst losses were six weeks behind them, they had had fair winds home and now were happy to be back. Sir Walter’s first act on reaching Arwenack was to write to his wife and send it post telling her of his safety. He wanted to rest here with his crews for two days to recover, then he would ride overland to Sherborne and let the captains bring the barques to Portsmouth.

  My father made him and his gentlemen welcome. As many of the crews as could lie under his roof were also welcome— the rest must stay aboard or be put up at the only other house near by, the Gwythers at Three Farthings House, at the mouth of Penryn Creek. (One never asked favours of Penryn town.)

  My father was all agog for news of prizes they had taken—he clearly had thoughts of another Madre de Dios capture and himself being the first to benefit—but on this Ralegh was disappointing. They had taken no prizes, no prizes which would rank as such; they had gained no great naval victory; they had—on the way home—raided and destroyed three Spanish settlements—it was here that nearly all the casualties had come on them. But all this paled before the significance of their attempt—and near success—in finding El Dorado.

  On the first night after supper in the big withdrawing chamber a select company listened in silence. While he spoke about it. With him was a bespectacled young man with close-cropped hair called Laurence Keymis in whom Sir Walter greatly confided, John Gilbert, Ralegh’s nephew, and Ralegh’s cousin, Butshead Gorges.

  Having left England in February they had reached Trinidad in six weeks and in attacking Port of Spain had captured Don Antonio de Berrio, the Governor of the island. Him they had treated like an honoured guest and from him they had received more news of Dorado, or the city of Manao, which lay some four or five hundred miles up the River Orinoco. Leaving Berrio a captive on board and a garrison to guard his four ships, Ralegh had embarked with a hundred volunteers in five small boats, had crossed a sea as wide as the Straits of Dover with a great tempest blowing, and had attempted to find a way among the maze of great rushing rivers and small treacherous streams which made up the hundred square miles of the Orinoco delta.