The Witch

by Mary Johnston

  CHAPTER II

  THE CAP AND BELLS

  THE inn was small and snug, near Cheapside Cross, and resorted to bymen of an argumentative mind. The Mermaid Tavern, no great distanceaway, had its poets and players, but the Cap and Bells was forstatesmen in their own thought alone, and for disputants upon suchtrifles as the condition of Europe, the Pope, and the change in theworld wrought by Doctor Martin Luther. It was ill-luck, certainly, thatbrought Gilbert Aderhold to such a place.

  When he lost hope of any help from Cecil, the evident first thing todo upon returning from Richmond to London, was to change to lodgingsthat were less dear,—indeed, to lodgings as little dear as possible.His purse was running very low. He changed, with promptitude, to apoor room in a poor house. It was cold at night and dreary, and hiseyes, tired with reading through much of the day, ached in the onecandlelight. He went out into the dark and windy street, saw the glowfrom the windows and open door of the Cap and Bells, and trimmed hiscourse for the swinging sign, a draught of malmsey and jovial humanfaces.

  In the tavern’s common room he found a seat upon the long bench thatran around the wall. It was a desirable corner seat and it becamehis only by virtue of its former occupant, a portly goldsmith, beingtaken with a sudden dizziness, rising and leaving the place. Aderhold,chancing to be standing within three feet, slipped into the corner. Hewas near the fire and it warmed him gratefully. A drawer passing, heordered the malmsey, and when it was brought he rested the cup uponthe table before him. It was a long table, and toward the farther endsat half a dozen men, drinking and talking. What with firelight andcandles the room was bright enough. It was warm, and at the moment ofAderhold’s entrance, peaceable. He thought of a round of wild and noisytaverns that he had tried one after the other, and, looking around him,experienced a glow of self-congratulation. He wanted peace, he wantedquiet; he had no love for the sudden brawls, for the candles knockedout, and lives of peaceable men in danger that characterized the mostof such resorts. He sipped his wine, and after a few minutes of lookingabout and finding that the cluster at the far end of the table was upona discussion of matters which did not interest him, he drew from hisbreast the book he had been reading and fell to it again. As he readalways with a concentrated attention, he was presently oblivious of allaround.

  An arm in a puffed sleeve of blue cloth slashed with red, coming flatagainst the book and smothering the page from sight, broke the spelland brought him back to the Cap and Bells. He raised his chin fromhis hand and his eyes from the book—or rather from the blue sleeve.The wearer of this, a formidable, large man, an evident bully, witha captious and rubicund face, frowned upon him from the seat he hadtaken, at the foot of the table, just by his corner. The number ofdrinkers and conversers had greatly increased. There was not now justa handful at this especial table; they were a dozen or more. Moreover,he found that for some reason their attention was upon him; they werewatching him; and he had a great and nervous dislike of being watched.He became aware that there was a good deal of noise, coarse jests andlaughter, and some disputing. Yet they looked, for the most part,substantial men, not the wild Trojans and slashswords that he sometimesencountered. For all his physical trepidations he was a close andaccurate observer; roused now, he sent a couple of rapid glances thelength and breadth of the table. They reported disputatious merchantsand burgomasters, a wine-flushed three or four from the neighbouringcongeries of lawyers, a country esquire, some one who looked pompousand authoritative like a petty magistrate, others less patent,—and theowner of the arm still insolently stretched across his book.

  The latter now removed the arm. “So ho! Master Scholar, yourCondescension returns from the moon—after we’ve halloaed ourselveshoarse! What devil of a book carried you aloft like that?”

  Aderhold decided to be as placating as possible. “It is, sir, the‘Chirurgia Magna’ of Theophrastus Bombast von Hohenheim, calledParacelsus.”

  The red and blue man was determined to bully. “The Cap and Bells hasunder consideration the state of the Realm. The Cap and Bells hasaddressed itself to you three times, requesting your opinion upon gravematters. First you deign no answer at all, and finally you insult uswith trivialities! ’S death! are you an Englishman, sir?”

  “As English as you, sir,” answered Aderhold; “though, in truth, seeingthat I have lived abroad some years and am but lately returned, myEnglish manners may have somewhat rusted and become clownish. I cravepardon of the worshipful company, and I shall not again read in itspresence.”

  A roisterer addressed him from halfway down the table. “We’ve got aruling—we that frequent the Cap and Bells. You’re a stranger—and astrange-looking stranger, too, by your leave—and you must wipe out theoffense of your outlandishness! A bowl of sack for the company—you’llpay for a bowl of sack for the company?”

  The colour flooded Aderhold’s thin cheek. He had not enough in hispurse or anything like enough. To-morrow he expected—or hoped ratherthan expected—to receive payment from the alderman whose wife, havingfallen ill before the very door of the house where he lodged, he hadattended and brought out from the presence of death. But to-morrowwas to-morrow, and to-night was to-night. He told the truth. “I ama poor physician, my masters, who hath of late been set about withmisfortune—”

  The red and blue bully smote the table with his fist.

  “What a murrain is a man doing in the Cap and Bells who cannot pay forsack? Poor physician, quotha! I’ve known a many physicians, but none sopoor as that—”

  One of the lawyers, a middle-aged, wiry man in black, raised his head.“He says true. Come, brother, out with thy gold and silver!”

  “When I shall have paid,” said Aderhold, “for the malmsey I have drunk,I shall not have fourpence in my purse.”

  “Pay for the sack,” said the lawyer, “and leave the malmsey go.”

  “Nay,” said Aderhold, “I owe for the malmsey.”

  The red and blue man burst forth again. “Oons! Would you have it thatyou do not owe the sack? Call for the drink and a great bowl of it,aye! If the host is out at the end, he can take his pay with a cudgelor summon the watch! Physician, quotha? Now, as my name’s Anthony Mull,he looks more to me like a black seminary priest!”

  Aderhold leaned back appalled. He wished himself in the windy streetor the gloom of his lodgings, or anywhere but here. Was it all tobegin again, the great weariness of trouble here and trouble there?To thread and dodge and bend aside, only in the end to find himselfat bay, bright-eyed and fierce at last like any hunted animal—hewho wanted only peace and quiet, calm space to think in! He groanedinwardly. “Ah, the most unlucky star!” There came to his help, somewhatstrangely, and, though none noticed it, upon the start as it were ofthe red and blue bully’s closing words, the Inns of Court man who hadspoken before. He took his arms from the table and, turning, calledaloud, “William Host! William Host!”

  The host came—a stout man with a moon face. “Aye, sir? aye, MasterCarnock?”

  “William Host,” said Carnock, “it is known, even in that remnant ofBœotia, the Mermaid Tavern, that thou ’rt the greatest lover of booksof all the Queen’s subjects—”

  The host assumed the look of the foolish-wise. “Nay, nay, I would notsay the greatest, Master Carnock! But ’tis known that I value a book—”

  “Then,” said the other, “here is a learned doctor with a no lesslearned book.” Rising, he leaned halfway over the table and liftedfrom before Aderhold the volume with which he had been engaged. “Lo! Agood-sized book and well made and clothed! Look you, now! Is’t worththy greatest bowl of sack, hot and sugared? It is—I see it by thineeye of judicious appraisement! I applaud thy judgement!—I call it aSolomon’s judgement.—Furnish the doctor with the sack and take thebook for payment!”

  Aderhold thrust out a long and eager arm. “Nay, sir! I value the bookgreatly—”

  “If you are not a fool—” said the lawyer with asperity.

  But the physician had already drawn back his arm. He could be at
timeswhat the world might call a fool, but his intelligence agreed that thisoccasion did not warrant folly. He might somehow come up with the bookagain; if the alderman paid, he might, indeed, come back to-morrow tothe Cap and Bells and recover it from the host. When the first startingand shrinking from danger was over, he was quick and subtle enough inmoves of extrication. He had learned that in his case, or soon or late,a certain desperate coolness might be expected to appear. Sometimes hefound it at one corner, sometimes at another; sometimes it only cameafter long delay, after long agony and trembling; and sometimes itslipped its hand into his immediately after the first recoil. Wheneverit came it brought, to his great relief, an inner detachment, much asthough he were a spectator, very safe in some gallery above. Up there,so safe and cool, he could even see the humour in all things. Now headdressed the company. “My masters, Cleopatra, when she would havea costly drink, melted pearls in wine! The book there may be calleda jewel, for I prized it mightily. Will you swallow it dissolved insack? So I shall make amends, and all will be wiser for having drunkunderstanding!”

  The idea appealed, the sack was ordered. But the red and blue bully wasbully still. Aderhold would have sat quiet in his corner, awaiting thesteaming stuff and planning to slip away as soon as might be after itscoming. At the other end of the table had arisen a wordy war over somecurrent city matter or other—so far as he was concerned the companymight seem to be placated and attention drawn. He was conscious thatthe lawyer still watched him from the corner of his eye, but the restof the dozen indulged in their own wiseacre wrangling. All, that is,but the red and blue bully. He still stared and swelled with animosity,and presently broke forth again. “‘Physician’! It may be so, but I donot believe it! As my name’s Anthony Mull, I believe you to be a Jesuitspy—”

  The sack came at the moment and with it a diversion. Cups were filled,all drank, and the lawyer flung upon the board for discussion thegrowing use of tobacco, its merits and demerits. Then, with suddenness,the petty magistrate at the head of the table was found to be relatingthe pillorying that day, side by side, of a Popish recusant and arailing Banbury man or Puritan. All at table turned out to be strongChurch of England men, zealous maintainers of the Act of Uniformity,jealous of even a smack of deviation toward Pope or Calvin. At theclose of a moment of suspension, while all drank again, the red andblue bully, leaning forward, addressed the man of justice. “Good MasterPierce, regard this leech, so named, and put the question to him, willhe curse Popery and all its works.”

  It seemed, in truth, that this was Aderhold’s unlucky night. That, orthere was something in the Queen’s declaration, there was somethingabout him different, something that provoked in all these peopleantagonism. And yet he was a quiet man, of a behaviour so careful thatit suggested a shyness or timidity beyond the ordinary. He was notill-looking or villainous-looking—but yet, there it was! For all thathe was indubitably of English birth, “_Foreigner_” was written upon him.

  The present unluckiness was the being again involved in thiscontentious and noisy hour. He had been gathering himself together,meaning to rise with the emptying of the bowl, make his bow to thecompany, and quit the Cap and Bells. And now it seemed that he muststop to assure them that he was not of the old religion! Aderhold’sinner man might have faintly smiled. He felt the lawyer’s gaze uponhim—a curious, even an apprehensive, gaze. The justice put thequestion portentously, all the table, save only the lawyer, leaningforward, gloating for the answer, ready to dart a claw forward at theleast flinching. But Aderhold spoke soberly, with a quiet brow. “Ido not hold with cursing, Master Justice. It is idle to curse past,present, or to come, for in all three a man but curses himself. But Iam far removed from that faith, and that belief is become a strange andhostile one to me. I am no Papist.”

  The bully struck the table with his fist. “As my name’s Anthony Mull,that’s not enough!”

  And the justice echoed him with an owl-like look: “That’s not enough!”

  A colour came into Aderhold’s cheek. “There is, my masters, no faiththat has not in some manner served the world and given voice to whatwe were and are, good and bad. No faith without lives of beauty andgrace. No faith without its garland. But since I am to clear myselfof belonging to the old religion—then I will say that I abhor—as ina portion of myself, diseased, which I would have as far otherwiseas I might—that I abhor in that faith all its cruelties past andpresent, its Inquisition, its torturers and savage hate, its wars andblood-letting and insensate strife, its falseness and cupidity andgreat and unreasonable pride, its King Know-No-More and its QueenEnquire-No-Further! I abhor its leasing bulls, its anathemas andexcommunications, its iron portcullis dropped across the outward andonward road, its hand upon the throat of knowledge and its searingirons against the eyes of vision! I say that it has made a dogma ofthe childhood of the mind and that, or soon or late, there will standwithin its portals intellectual death—”

  The table blinked. “At least,” said the justice sagely, “you are noPapist!”

  But the red and blue man would not be balked of his prey. “That’s roundenough, but little enough as a true Churchman talks! You appear to menot one whit less one of us than you did before! Master Pierce, MasterPierce! if he be not a masked Jesuit, then is he a Marprelate man, aBanbury man, a snuffling, Puritan, holy brother! Examine him, MasterPierce! My name is not Mull, if he be not somehow pillory fruit—”

  It seemed that they all hated a Puritan as much as a Papist. “Declare!Declare! Are you a Banbury Saint and a Brother? Are you Reformed, aPrecisian, and a Presbyter? Are you John Calvin and John Knox?”

  But Aderhold kept a quiet forehead. “A brother to any in the sense youmean—no. A saint—not I! A Calvinist?—No, I am no Calvinist.”

  “Not enough! Not enough!”

  Aderhold looked at them, bright-eyed. “Then I will say that Calvinburned Servetus. I will say that where they have had power to persecutethey have persecuted! I will say that—”

  Outside the Cap and Bells arose a great uproar. Whether it wereapprentices fighting, or an issue of gentry and sword-play with—ineither case—the watch arriving, or whether it were a fire, or news,perhaps, of the old Queen’s death—whatever it was it behooved the Capand Bells to know the worst! All the revellers and disputers rose, madefor the door, became dispersed. Aderhold snatched up his cloak and hat,laid a coin beside the empty malmsey cup, sent one regretful glance inthe direction of the volume lying beside the great bowl, and quittedthe Cap and Bells. In the street was a glare of light and the noiseof running feet. The crowd appeared to be rushing toward Thames bank,some tall building upon it being afire. He let them go, and drawing hiscloak about him, turned in the direction of his lodging.

  He had not gone far when he felt himself touched on the shoulder. “Notso fast! A word with you, friend!—You’ve put me out of breath—”

  It proved to be the lawyer who had befriended him. They were standingbefore some church. Wall and porch, it rose above them, dark andvacant. The lawyer looked about him, glanced along the steps and intothe hollow of the porch. “Bare as is this land of grace!—Look you,friend, we know that it is allowable at times to do that in dangerwhich we disavow in safety. Especially if we have great things intrust.—I marked you quickly enough for a man with a secret—and asecret more of the soul and mind than of worldly goods. Hark you!I’m as little as you one of the mass-denying crew we’ve left. What!a man may go in troublous times with the current and keep a stilltongue—nay, protest with his tongue that he loves the current—elsehe’ll have a still tongue, indeed, and neither lands nor business, norperhaps bare life! But when we recognize a friend—” He spoke rapidly,in a voice hardly above a whisper, a sentence or two further.

  “You take me,” said Aderhold, “to be Catholic. You mistake; I am not.I spoke without mask.” Then, as the other drew back with an angrybreath. “You were quick and kindly and saved me from that which itwould have been disagreeable to experience. Will you let me say butanother word?”


  “Say on,” said the other thickly, “but had I known—”

  The light from Thames bank reddening the street even here, they drew alittle farther into the shadow of the porch. “I have travelled much,”said Aderhold, “and seen many men and beliefs, and most often thebeliefs were strange to me, and I saw not how any could hold them.Yet were the people much what they were themselves, some kindly, someunkindly, some hateful, some filled with all helpfulness. I have seenmen of rare qualities, tender and honourable women and young children,believe what to me were monstrous things. Everywhere I have seen thatmen and women may be better than the dogma that is taught them, seeingthat what they think they believe is wrapped in all the rest of theirbeing which believes no such thing. Both in the old religion and in theReformed have I known many a heroic and love-worthy soul. Think as wellas you may of me, brother, and I will think well of thee—and thankthee, besides,—”

  “Cease your heretic talk!” said the lawyer. “I held you to be of holyMother Church—” With suddenness, in the darkness, he put forth hisfoot and swung his arm, at once tripping and striking the physicianwith such violence that he came to the ground with his forehead againstthe stone step of the church. When he staggered to his feet the lawyerwas gone. Around him howled the March wind and far above the churchvane creaked. He stood for a moment until the giddiness passed, thengathered his cloak about him and, hurrying on through the nipping air,reached his lodging without further adventure.

  That night he slept well. The next morning, as he was eating hisbreakfast, that was spare enough, he heard a loud and formal cryingin the street below. He went to the window. A crier was approaching,at his heels a mob of boys and of the idle generally. “_The Queen isDead!—The Queen is Dead!—The Queen is Dead!—Long Live King James!_”