The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth

by William Harrison Ainsworth

  “We passed the royal barge on its way thither,” remarked Blood.

  “You did wrong to venture so near it,” said Duval; “you were noticed. But let me proceed. The Crown jewels, as you know, are deposited at the Tower, and the motive of his majesty’s visit was to show these treasures to the Duchess of Portsmouth. The count saw them for the first time, and his description of them was enough to make one’s mouth water. There are two crowns, and the precious stones with which they are garnished are beyond imagination and beyond all price. You will scarcely credit me when I tell you there is an emerald seven inches in circumference.”

  “A prodigious pebble!” exclaimed Blood, who was now all attention. “How I should like to handle it!”

  “To pocket it, you mean, colonel,” remarked Montalt. “To say nothing of rubies, pearls, and sapphires, any one of which would make a man wealthy,” continued Duval. “The count was quite bewildered by the sight.”

  “And well he might be,” cried Blood. “I am bewildered by the mere idea. What more did he behold?”

  “The two sceptres,” replied Duval, “each of solid gold, and garnished with diamonds. The sceptre, with the dove, is three feet seven inches long, and three inches round; so you may guess its value.”

  “Magnificent! Don’t you long to grasp it, colonel?” remarked Montalt to Blood.

  “I would grasp it like a monarch,” rejoined the other. “Then there was the orb!” pursued Duval. “A ball of solid gold, encircled by a golden fillet, embellished with roses of diamonds!”

  “Hold! — hold!” exclaimed Blood, starting up. “I can bear no more! The description of these treasures excites me so strangely. ‘Fore Heaven! it were an enterprise worthy of us to seize upon them!”

  “That were an enterprise, indeed!” cried Flodoard.

  The Race for the King’s Cup, at Newmarket

  But there is no doubt at the last. With a bound, the mare springs forward, and wins by a head.

  A tremendous shout rends the air, and for a few minutes the most tumultuous excitement prevails.

  “Oddsfish!” exclaimed the king, looking rather blank. “I did not think Bosco would have been beaten. I have lost a thousand pounds on the race.”

  “I was about to propose it to you,” observed Claude Duval. “The project is hazardous, and can only be accomplished by stratagem.”

  “By stratagem! Ha, that suits me!” cried Blood.

  “The treasures are deposited in the Jewel Tower,” pursued Duval; “and are entrusted to the sole care of an old Welshman, Talbot Edwards, who inhabits the tower with his wife and daughter. The latter is a pretty coquette, and the Count de Bellegarde has already made acquaintance with her.”

  “I see!” observed Blood. “Is there no guard outside the tower?”

  “Yes; a sentinel is placed at the door. Old Edwards might easily be overpowered, of course, and the jewels secured, but the sentinel offers the first difficulty. Then there are the three gates of the fortress, each with its sentinel, besides the warders in the guard-chamber. All these have to be passed.”

  “Were the sentinels doubled, we would pass them!” cried Blood. “Even while you have been speaking, my teeming brain has produced a scheme that cannot fail. You will all have parts in it,” he added to his followers; “but the chief part will be enacted by myself. I shall go as a Welsh parson.”

  Shouts of laughter followed the announcement.

  “As a Welsh parson!” exclaimed Duval. “Did I hear aright?”

  “Laugh as much as you list,” said Blood, maintaining a grave countenance amid the general merriment. “I shall put on canonicals. A cassock is as convenient as a domino. Clothed in a clerical garb, I shall be able to pass all the sentinels of the Tower without exciting suspicion. As a Welshman, old Edwards will hail with delight the Reverend Llewellyn Price, and take him to his bosom. Besides, Parson Price will have his daughter Winefred with him. I’ll speak to her at once. “ And striding towards a broad oaken staircase at the back, communicating with the upper rooms, he shouted out, with lusty lungs, “ What ho, Sabine!”

  “Coming, father,” rejoined a musical voice from above.

  CHAPTER VI

  SABINE DISAPPROVES OF HER FATHER’S PROJECT

  Presently, a light appeared, and a graceful figure was seen descending the staircase.

  Need we say it was the same fair creature who has appeared in sundry portions of our story as Violet Oldacre?

  She set down her taper, and, with a cry of delight, flew towards Duval; but he checked her by a slight gesture.

  “You mistake me for the Count de Bellegarde,” he said.

  “Yes; I now see it is Captain Duval,” she rejoined. “You called me, father.”

  “Ay; I have a great project to break to you,” observed Blood.

  “Always some new project, father.”

  “But this is greater than all the others. “make us rich beyond all computation. “enable you to live like a princess in France or Flanders. All your dreams of splendor will be realized.”

  “I fear these are but dreams in which you are indulging, father,” observed Sabine, with a smile.

  “You are an incredulous little fool,” said Blood. “Ask Captain Duval if I have in the slightest degree exaggerated.”

  “Your father has not said a word too much,” replied Duval. ““a splendid scheme; and if crowned with success, will yield millions.”

  “Millions!” exclaimed Sabine, surprised. “What can it be? Have you discovered the philosopher’s stone?”

  “Bah! All the disciples of Hermes could not produce such a heap of gold and precious stones as we have found out.”

  “And, pray, where is this wonderful treasure hidden?”

  “In an enchanted castle,” replied Duval; “defended by gates and drawbridges innumerable; surrounded by a double line of fortifications; locked up in a donjon; and watched by a jealous old dragon, whom it will be your business to put to sleep.”

  “Ah! you mean the Crown jewels!” cried Sabine.

  “You have guessed aright,” said Blood. “Those jewels shall be ours ere many weeks are past. Now, was I wrong in styling the project a great one?”

  ““a dreadful project, father. I tremble to think of it.”

  “Pshaw!” returned the colonel; “there is no more danger in it than in many a matter of trifling import.”

  ““not the danger I think of, father, but the magnitude of the crime.”

  “Hard words, girl. But you need have no scruples. His majesty will be able to replace his jewels; if not, it matters little. They are mere useless gewgaws where they now are kept. We will turn them to good account.”

  “But you do not expect me to take part in such a scheme, father?” said Sabine. “I cannot do it.”

  Before Blood, who was getting angry, could reply, Duval arose, and approaching her, observed:

  “Did I not say, mignonne, that it would be your business to put to sleep the watchful dragon?”

  “Do not impose such a hateful task upon me,” she rejoined. “Hateful or not, you must perform it,” cried her father, in a tone calculated to enforce obedience. “I require your assistance. To-morrow we shall go to the Tower together. In the interim, I will instruct you in the part you will have to play. It will not be difficult, I promise you.”

  While she remained silent and sad, Duval took Blood aside.

  “His majesty desires to see his nocturnal visitor again,” he said.

  “Ha!” exclaimed Blood.

  “You may go to him without fear,” pursued Duval.

  “I will not go to him till this affair is over,” said Blood. “Then I can act as circumstances may dictate. An interview with him at this juncture would interfere with the progress of our scheme — perhaps thwart it altogether.”

  “Well, I will protest to him that I cannot find you. Have you heard aught from Buckingham?”

  “Nothing; nor do I expect to hear from him. He will not trouble me.”

&nb
sp; “Be not too sure of that,” returned Claude. “However, if you succeed in your design, you must take instant leave of England, and embark for France.”

  “I will neglect no precaution, rest assured,” rejoined Blood.

  “My mission is ended,” said Duval. “Perchance I may meet Parson Price and his fair daughter at the Tower tomorrow; but if I do, we shall be strangers, of course.”

  He then turned to Sabine, who still looked downcast, and pressed her hand to his lips, as he bade her adieu.

  “Excuse my hasty departure, sweetheart,” he whispered. “There is a ball to-night at Whitehall, at which the Count de Bellegarde must be present.”

  She looked at him with tearful eyes, but made no remonstrance.

  “Bon soir, messieurs!” he exclaimed. “Empoignez le tresor, et vogue la galere!”

  Montalt helped him to put on his mantle, Flodoard gave him the dark lantern, and both bowed respectfully as he disappeared through the secret door.

  CHAPTER VII

  PARSON PRICE AND HIS DAUGHTER

  Next morning, a wherry, which had come down the river from Whitefriars, and was rowed by four lusty young oarsmen, stopped at Tower Wharf, and landed a very stout ecclesiastic and his daughter.

  Clergymen, we may state, in those days, always appeared in public in full canonicals — gown, cassock, and bands. Consequently, they were never taken for laymen.

  Our stout parson had a jovial visage, and did not seem to have mortified the flesh with over-severity. His loose robe gave additional width to shoulders already too broad. His gown was well kept, and his bands spotless. Though his features were harsh, his looks were not unprepossessing, and his manner was decorous and benign; so very benign, indeed, that when a warder approached, he seemed to pronounce an internal blessing upon the man.

  Our parson’s daughter was remarkably pretty, with magnificent black eyes, and rich black tresses. A graceful figure does not require the aid of dress to set it off; and her blue petticoat and red gown, of very plain material, suited her perfectly.

  The pair we have described were gazing with wonder, not unmingled with awe, at the ancient fortress, when a big warder, with a bluff countenance, and a great C.R. embroidered in gold on his scarlet jerkin, who was lounging on the wharf, accosted them, and asked if he should show his reverence, and the young lady, the lions.

  “You shall show me the way to the Jewel Tower, if it please you, my good friend,” said the parson, bestowing the benediction upon him we have recorded. “We are strangers here, as you may very well perceive.”

  “Ay, I can easily see that your reverence is from the country,” returned the bluff-looking warder. “Many strangers visit the Tower. “the finest sight in all London.”

  “I should think so,” cried the parson’s daughter. “Dear! dear! what a wonderful place it is.”

  “Oh, you’ve seen nothing yet,” cried the bluff warder. “Wait till you’ve seen the lions and the bears. They’ll astonish you, I’ll warrant. You can hear “roaring now. The big white bear goes a-fishing every afternoon in the Thames.”

  “Does he, indeed?” said the parson’s daughter, looking surprised.

  “We do not desire to see lions and bears, my good friend,” said the parson, blandly. “Our object is to proceed at once to the Jewel Tower, which is kept by our estimable relative, Mr. Talbot Edwards. You know him, perhaps?”

  “yes, I know him, and a very worthy old gentleman he is — a Welshman, and remarkably fond of toasted cheese,” replied the warder.

  “cheese is a very good thing, my friend, let me tell you. Perhaps you may have heard Mr. Edwards speak of the Reverend Llewellyn Price, of Caermarthen. I am Parson Price, and this is my daughter Winefred.”

  “I don’t remember hearing Mr. Edwards mention your reverence,” replied the bluff warder, somewhat abating his surliness. “But I am sure it will afford him pleasure to see you and your daughter, as it will me to conduct you to him.”

  “You are very obliging,” said the assumed Parson Price. “May I ask your name, my good friend?”

  “Dunstan — Kenelm Dunstan; known among my brother warders as Burly Dunstan,” was the answer.

  “A brave name! I shall not forget it. I am glad to know you, honest Kenelm — very glad indeed; and if it would not affront you, I would ask you to drink my health in a cup of mulled sack.”

  The burly warder now entirely relaxed his previous bluffness, and smilingly accepted the piece of silver that Parson Price placed in his hand.

  “I will drink your reverence’s and the young lady’s health in a cup of the best sack to be had at the Stone Kitchen,” he said.

  “I hope to find my cousin Edward in good health, Kenelm,” pursued Parson Price; “I have not seen him for these many years. Can you tell me if he was in London when he obtained his appointment?”

  “No, your reverence. He was residing at Llandaff, and very badly off, as I’ve heard. Sir Gilbert Talbot sent for him, and gave him the post.”

  “Ah! I knew the worthy gentleman had had misfortunes,” remarked Parson Price, with a sigh; “but I thought he had left Llandaff long ago.”

  “You’ll find him hale and hearty, sir,” observed the warder; “and as to his daughter Edith, she will stand a comparison with your own fair young lady.”

  “You hear that, Winefred,” said Parson Price, smiling. “Now, honest Kenelm, you will kindly show us the way?”

  “That I will, your reverence.”

  The warder took them across the drawbridge, and then through the gateway of the By-ward Tower, near which several other burly individuals, like himself, in scarlet jerkins, embroidered with the royal badge, were assembled. All of them respectfully saluted the parson, who stopped to pronounce a benediction upon them.

  “Be pleased to mention my name to your brother warders, Kenelm,” said Parson Price. “As I shall often visit my cousin Edwards, it may be well they should know me.”

  “I will not fail,” replied the warder.

  As they went on, their conductor pointed out to them many objects of interest, and showed them the towers in which several prisoners of state were confined.

  The sight of the sombre buildings and grated windows made Winefred turn pale. Her father did not seem so much impressed, but kept constantly asking questions about his cousin Edwards.

  At length, they reached the Jewel Tower.

  “Can I be of any further service to your reverence?” inquired the warder, about to take leave.

  “Yes, my dear Kenelm; you will do me a particular favor if you will announce me to my cousin Edwards. I do not wish to take the old gentleman by surprise.”

  CHAPTER VIII

  PARSON PRICE AND HIS DAUGHTER ARE WELCOMED AT THE JEWEL TOWER

  The old warder went in, as requested, and presently returned, accompanied by old Mr. Edwards, who seemed scarcely to have recovered from the surprise into which he had been thrown.

  Parson Price, however, stopped the old gentleman’s mouth by pronouncing a blessing upon him and his family; and then, with a warmth of manner which there was no resisting, cried out:

  “Ah, my dear cousin, how glad I am to see you! I daresay you have quite forgotten Llewellyn Price of Caermarthen; but, you see, he has not forgotten you.”

  Truth to say, Mr. Edwards did not recollect him in the least. Completely mystified, he knew not what reply to make.

  After all, Welshmen have so many cousins, that the worthy man might have had one at Caermarthen without remembering the circumstance.

  “No wonder you don’t recollect me,” continued Price. “ I was but a boy when you saw me at Llandaff. This is my daughter Winefred. Her poor mother is buried at St. David’s. She was a Griffith of Llandovery; but I can’t trust myself to speak of her,” he added with well-feigned emotion.

  No need of more. Old Edwards was completely imposed upon by the respectable appearance of his new relations, and gave them a cordial welcome.

  After saluting Winefred affectionately, he took
them both into the tower, and presented them in due form to his wife and daughter.

  Another scene had to be gone through, but it ended in all the cousins becoming mutually delighted with each other.

  Parson Price soon established himself in Mrs. Edwards’s good graces, and Edith was charmed with Winefred.

  Cakes and metheglin were set before the visitors, and after they had partaken of the refreshments, old Edwards volunteered to show his cousins the Crown jewels.

  He could not have made an offer more agreeable to Parson Price, who was enchanted to find himself in the treasure chamber. —

  How the parson’s eyes glistened and his breast dilated as he gazed at the splendid show.

  But while examining the various objects, he stole many a furtive glance round the chamber, noted every object within it, and saw where the old custodian’s pistols and arquebus were hung, secretly laughing at the precautions.

  “Mine eyes never had such a feast before,” he exclaimed as he relinquished the imperial crown to its guardian. “Lord! lord! how princes do bedeck themselves. Solomon in all his glory had not a crown like this. You must allow me another opportunity of inspecting these wondrous treasures, my dear cousin, for though I have seen much, I am not satisfied.”

  “You shall inspect them whenever you please,” replied Edwards.

  “I should like to come and see them every day during our stay in London,” cried Winefred. “I never beheld anything so lovely. I wish I were a princess, to wear some of them.”

  “One gets tired of jewels as of everything else,” remarked Edith. “I think nothing of them.”

  “Jewels, indeed, are but vanities!” exclaimed Parson Price.

  “Don’t say that, father,” cried Winefred. “You might as well say that all earthly treasures are but dross.”

  “And so they are, my dear,” rejoined the parson. “Mere dross.”

  “I wish I had a little more of the dross,” observed Edwards.

  “Jewels would be very well, if one could wear them,” remarked Edith. “But merely to gaze at them in this way becomes tiresome. How well you would look in this collar, my pretty cousin,” she added, fastening a necklace set with diamonds and pearls round Winefred’s fair throat.