Lion Triumphant

by Philippa Carr

  It was late in the evening when the men left; and when I was in my room I found that I was wide awake and I sat at my turret window, knowing it was useless to try to sleep.

  There was a knock on my door and Honey came in.

  She was dressed in a long blue bedgown and her lovely hair was loose about her shoulders.

  “So you’re not abed?” she said.

  She sat down and looked at me.

  “What did you think of them?”

  “Crude,” I replied.

  “They are far from London and the Court. They are different of course.”

  “It’s not only their ill manners. They are arrogant.”

  “They are men who command rough sailors. It would be necessary for them to show authority.”

  “And intolerant,” I said. “How fierce the father was when he talked of the Spaniards. How foolish they are. As if there is not enough of the world for them all to have what they want.”

  “People always want what other people have. It’s a law of nature.”

  “Not of nature,” I said. “It’s a man-made custom, indulged in by the foolish.”

  “The Captain was impressed by you, Catharine.”

  “It is of no moment to me if he was.”

  “He is a disturbing fellow … they both are.”

  “The father looked as though he would carry you off under Edward’s nose.”

  “Even he would not go as far as that.”

  “I think he would go as far as it is possible to go—his son too. I wouldn’t trust either of them.”

  “Well, they are our neighbors. Edward’s father said we must be neighborly and particularly with the Pennlyons, who are a power in these parts.”

  “I hope we don’t see them again in a hurry.”

  “It would surprise me if we did not. I have an idea that the Captain may come courting you, Catharine.”

  I laughed derisively. “He would do well to stay away. Honey, you have arranged this.”

  “Dear Catharine, do you want to mourn forever?”

  “It is not what I want, Honey. It is what I must do.”

  “If you married and had children you would forget Carey.”

  “I never should.”

  “Then what do you propose to do? Mourn all your life?”

  “What I propose to do is ask you not to parade these country boors to inspect me. Please, Honey, no more of it.”

  “You will change. It is just that you have not met the right one yet.”

  “I certainly did not tonight. How could you imagine that such a man could arouse any desire in me but to get as far from him as possible?”

  “He is handsome, powerful, rich … at least I imagine so. You could look far before you found a more suitable parti.”

  “There speaks the smug matron. Honey, I shall go home to the Abbey if you make any more attempts to find me a husband.”

  “I promise not to.”

  “I suppose Mother suggested that you should.”

  “She grieves for you, Catharine.”

  “I know she does. And it is no fault of hers, bless her dear heart. Oh, let us not speak of my miseries. Shall we indeed be obliged to visit this Lyon Court? They would seem to be obsessed by their connection with that animal.”

  “They have taken the figure of the lion as their insignia. They say there is a lion on all their ships. They are an amazing family. They have come to great power in the second and third generation. I heard that Sir Penn’s father was a humble fisherman plying his trade from a little Cornish fishing village. Then he made several boats and sent men out to fish for him; and he had more and more boats and became a sort of king of his village. He crossed the Tamar and set up business here. Sir Penn grew up as the crown prince, as it were, and he acquired more ships and gave up the calling of fishermen and went out into the world. He was given his knighthood by Henry VIII, who himself loved ships and foresaw that adventurers like the Pennlyons could bring good to England.”

  I yawned.

  “You are tired?” said Honey.

  “Tired of these Pennlyons.”

  “I doubt it will not be long before they are at sea, the son at least.”

  “It will be a pleasure not to see him.”

  Honey stood up and then she gave the real reason for her visit.

  “You gathered they are fanatical in their religious beliefs.”

  “I did, and what astonished me was that they should have any.”

  “We shall have to be careful. It would not be wise for them to know that we celebrate the Mass in this house.”

  “I am so weary of these conflicts,” I assured her. “You can rely on me to say nothing of the matter.”

  “It would seem,” said Honey, “that there is a movement from the True Religion.”

  “Which is the true?” I said angrily. “You say the road to Rome is the right one because Edward believes that and it was necessary for you to before you married him. We know that members of our own family take the Protestant view. Who is right?”

  “Of course Edward is right … we are right.”

  “In matters of religion it seems all people believe they are right and all who disagree with them wrong. For this very reason I refuse to side with either.”

  “Then you are without religion.”

  “I think I can be a better Christian by not hating those who disagree with me. I do not care for doctrines, Honey. They bring too much suffering. I will go along with neither. I’m tired now, and in no mood for a theological discussion tonight.”

  She rose.

  “All I beg of you, Catharine, is be careful.”

  “You may trust me.”

  She kissed me lightly on the cheek and went out; and I thought how fortunate she was with her adoring husband, her startling beauty and her certainty that she had found the True Faith.

  But my thoughts were almost immediately back with our visitors. I looked out across the sea and there was his ship at anchor; soon I thought, I shall be at this window watching it sail away. And I pictured him on the deck, shouting orders, legs astride, defying anyone to disobey him; I saw him with a cutlass in his hand boarding a Spanish ship; I saw the blood run from the cutlass; I heard his triumphant laugh; and I saw him with the golden coins in his hands, letting them run through his fingers while his eyes gleamed as covetously as they had when they had rested on me.

  I shook myself. I went to bed and was vaguely irritated because I could not get the man out of my mind.

  I awoke. My room was full of moonlight. I was not sure how long I had been asleep. I lay very still listening to the sounds of the countryside—the sudden rustle of leaves; the hooting of an owl. Why had I who usually slept so soundly awakened in this way? Had something startled me?

  I closed my eyes preparing to drift back into sleep when I heard the clock in the tower strike three. It was an unusual clock and all callers at the house went out into the courtyard to look at it. It was adorned with the figure of a man who resembled the late King Henry VIII, father of our Sovereign; he struck a bell to give the hour. It was quite a curio here—although at home we had one or two unusual clocks.

  Three o’clock. I rose and put on my fur-edged wrap. I went to the window and looked out. My gaze went at once to the Rampant Lion, but it did not stay there, for farther out to sea was a magnificent sight, such a ship as I had never seen before. She towered above the water. She was majestic. I knew little of ships except what I had learned since coming here; but I did not notice that the forecastle instead of projecting over the bows rose straight up from the jutting forepeak.

  I had never seen such a stately ship. Beside her the Rampant Lion looked small and insignificant.

  I sat for some time watching this beautiful ship, and as I did so I saw a bobbing light on her and then on the water a dark speck. It disappeared and then appeared again. It was coming nearer. I watched. It was a small boat which was being rowed to the shore.

  I looked at the Rampant Lion aga
in. I thought: I wish he could see this fine ship. I wish he could compare his precious Lion with that one.

  I saw quite clearly the little boat bobbing about on the water. Then it disappeared and I could see it no more; I looked in vain for it. The great ship remained and I watched and waited, but nothing more happened.

  I heard the clock in the courtyard strike four and I realized that I was cold.

  The ship was still there, but there was no sign of the little boat. I went back to my bed; I could not get my feet warm. I did at last and then I slept. It was late when I awoke. I remembered at once and went to the window. There was no sign of the ship or the little boat. The Rampant Lion was riding the waters proudly because there was no majestic stranger ship to dwarf her.

  What a ship it had been! I had never seen the like before; and when I looked out across the water I asked myself: Did I truly see that glorious ship, or did I imagine it?

  No. I had wakened in the night. What had awakened me? Some instinct? Some premonition? And then I had looked and seen the ship.

  Or had I dreamed it? There had been such talk of ships on the previous night; those men—and particularly the young man—had forced themselves into my mind so that I could not forget them. Perhaps it had been a dream. But of course I had awakened. I had seen the ship. But because of the pictures those two men had conjured up in my mind had it seemed so grand and glorious?

  I knew of course what I had seen, but I was not going to mention it. Honey and Edward would think I had been too impressed by the Pennlyons and that was the last thing I would admit.

  At Trewynd I rode a frisky little mare. I had been completely at home on a horse since I was a child. We were all taught to ride at an early age, for if one were to rely on one’s legs one would never get far from home.

  I liked to ride out every day and alone. I hated to be accompanied by a groom, which I suppose I should have been. My little Marigold knew me well; she had traveled with me from the Abbey; we understood each other and the sound of my voice could both soothe and command her.

  On that morning after the Pennlyons’ visit I rode out, but as I left the stables I heard Jake Pennlyon’s resonant voice. So he had called already. I congratulated myself on having escaped him. I loved the countryside; it was different from that around the Abbey. Here there were steep hills, winding paths, pinewoods and the foliage was more lush because it was warmer than in the southeast and there was so much rain. I imagined what flowers there would be in the springtime, and was looking forward to that season when I asked myself if I intended to stay away from home for so long.

  While I was musing I heard the sound of horse’s hoofs behind me, and turning my head, I saw Jake Pennlyon galloping up, riding a powerful white horse.

  “Oh,” I said flatly.

  “They told me you had gone out, so I trailed you.”

  “Why did you do that?”

  “To have speech with you, of course.”

  “We talked only last night.”

  “But we have a great deal to say to each other.”

  “I did not think that.”

  “Well, mayhap it is I who have a great deal to say to you.”

  “Perhaps some other time.” I pressed my heels into Marigold’s flanks and she started off, but he was beside me; I knew at once that Marigold could not outdistance his powerful steed.

  “A sailor can’t afford to beat about the bush. One thing he is short of … is time.”

  Realizing that I could not escape him, I slowed up.

  “Well, pray say what it is and I will continue my ride.”

  “We can chat comfortably as we continue our ride.”

  “I did not ask you to accompany me.”

  “What matters that? I asked myself.”

  “You don’t hesitate to press your company even though it may not be wanted?”

  “I don’t hesitate when I’ve made up my mind that I want something.”

  “And what pray do you want now?”

  “You.”

  I gave a short laugh. “You have strange desires.”

  “Very normal ones, I do assure you.”

  “I know you scarcely at all. We have met but once.”

  “Twice,” he corrected me. “Have you forgotten our encounter on the Hoe? That was when it all began.”

  “I was not aware that anything had begun.”

  He seized Marigold’s bridle. His face was grim, cruel suddenly. “You must not deny the truth to me, Mistress,” he said. “You know what has begun.”

  “And you it seems know more of me than I know myself—or so you would have me believe. I am not one of your friends who comes when you beckon and pants with glee when you whistle her as you would your dog.”

  “I should always call you by your name and you could always have a higher place in my estimation than that I reserve for my dogs.”

  “When do you sail?” I asked.

  “Two months from now.”

  “So long?” I asked.

  “So short,” he replied. “There is much to be done in those two months. I have to victual my ship, overhaul her, make her seaworthy, get my crew and woo a lady … all at the same time.”

  “I wish you good fortune.” I turned Marigold toward the Trewynd estate. “And now I will bid you good-bye, for I am not going your way.”

  “Indeed you are, for your way is my way.”

  “I am going back to the stables.”

  “You have just ridden out.”

  “Nevertheless, I am going back,” I said.

  “Stay and talk with me.”

  “I must say good-bye.”

  “You are afraid of me.”

  I looked at him scornfully.

  “Then if not,” he retorted, “why won’t you stay and talk with me?”

  “Certainly I am not afraid of you, Captain Pennlyon. But pray say what it is you have to say and I’ll be gone.”

  “I was taken with you the first time I saw you and I don’t think you were unaware of me.”

  “There are several ways of being aware.”

  “And you were aware of me in many ways.”

  “I thought you insolent … arrogant…”

  “Pray don’t spare me,” he mocked.

  “The sort of person I have no great wish to meet.”

  “And yet whom you cannot resist.”

  “Captain Pennlyon,” I said, “you have too high an opinion of yourself and your ship.”

  “My ship at least is the finest that sailed the ocean.”

  “I saw a finer last night,” I was goaded to say.

  “Where?”

  “In the bay.”

  “You saw the Rampant Lion.”

  “She was there, but there was this other which dwarfed her and was twice as magnificent.”

  “You may mock me but pray not my ship.”

  “I mock no one. I merely state a fact. I looked from my window and saw the most beautiful ship I have ever seen.”

  “The most beautiful ship you have ever seen is the Rampant Lion.”

  “No, this was indeed more majestic and fine. She was so tall and lofty … like a castle afloat.”

  He was looking at me intently. “Did you see how many masts she had?”

  “Four, I think.”

  “And her decks … were they high?”

  “Why, yes, I suppose so. She was so tall … I did not know ships could be so tall.”

  He seemed to have forgotten his interest in me. The ship of the night had driven all other thoughts from his mind.

  He questioned me avidly. I answered as best I could, but my knowledge of ships was sparse. He made no protest as I walked my horse back to Trewynd stables; he merely kept pace with me, firing questions at me, exasperated because I could not describe in detail the ship I had seen.

  He burst out suddenly: “It could not be. But by God’s Death, it would seem that you are describing a Spanish galleon.”

  I had not realized how fervently religious Edward
was. At the Abbey my mother had never instilled one doctrine into me rather than another. Her ideal had been tolerance and I knew that she did not think that the manner of worship mattered so much as that one lived as Christian a life as was possible. She had once said to me: “It is in people’s actions toward their fellowmen that we perceive their religion. What virtue is there in praising God if one is cruel to His creatures?”

  Few people were in agreement with her. The last Queen and her ministers had burned people at the stake not because they had robbed or murdered but because they did not believe according to Rome.

  And now we had turned around and the religious laws which had existed in Mary’s reign were abolished and those of her predecessor’s time were restored. The Protestant religion was in the ascendancy and although there might not be a recurrence of the Smithfield fires it was dangerous to go against the spiritual domination ordered by the Queen.

  Whether our Queen was firm in her views or not, I could not be sure. The dangerous years when she had come close to losing her head would be remembered by her; then she had prevaricated, although perhaps she had leaned toward the Reformed Faith; and indeed had she not, she might not be on the throne this day.

  Now of course she had a very good political reason for her firm Protestant views. Across the Channel was a Queen of France who was also a Queen of Scotland and who many believed was also the true Queen of England: Mary Stuart, the granddaughter of Margaret, sister of our late King Henry VIII. Thus many said she was the direct heir to the throne of England while Elizabeth—whose father had put aside his true wife, Catherine of Aragon, to marry Elizabeth’s mother, Anne Boleyn—was a bastard and had no real claim to it.

  Mary Stuart was Catholic, so she was the figurehead of those who would wish to see England back in the Papal fold. Elizabeth therefore must set herself up as the leader of Protestantism. I felt certain that our Queen’s motives were not prompted by religion so much as by politics.

  But these politics existed; and those who celebrated Mass and worshiped in the Roman manner were potential enemies of the Queen, for they would wish to lead the country back to Rome and if this were done, Mary Stuart, not Elizabeth Tudor, would be accepted as the Queen of England.

  Therefore, in worshiping as Edward and Honey did, there was danger.