Idonia: A Romance of Old London

by Arthur Frederick Wallis

  CHAPTER XXI

  THE "FAIR HAVEN" OF WAPPING

  My father once, reading in a favourite philosopher, paused with hisfinger on a certain passage to ask me what I made of the sense of thathe should read; and so continuing his lecture aloud, rehearsed somescore of good reasons there set down, why a man should do virtuously;but that, either way, the gods ruled the event. When he had done Iasked him in my turn whether the whole book were in that kind, to whichhe answered that such was indeed the tenour of it, though there wereyet other reasons given besides those he had read. But while I was yetconsidering of my answer, he intercepted it, himself replying for me.

  "You think there are too many reasons," said he smiling, "and that ifthese the author calls gods take occasion to correct our errors we maydo as we please; but that if they do not so, then must we do as we can."

  Then stroking down his beard with his hand, he bade me do virtuously,at least so long as I was in any doubt about the gods; "which," saidhe, "is a question only to be settled in that manner."

  How many times since then I had recalled my father's grave and tolerantirony, I know not, but it was not often; nor certainly had it everreturned upon me with so compelling an insistency as now, while I stillstared after his evil-hearted brother, that murderer of the man at myfeet.

  "If the gods rule the event out of this business," I thought, "how willit go with thee, my uncle?" So easy is it to apply to another theprecepts were meant for ourselves! And truly, when I contrasted my ownqualities with Mr. Botolph Cleeve's, I came near to forgiving him, soeminently did he make my own uprightness to appear.

  Now, very greatly though I desired Idonia should know of my safereturn, I yet could not bring myself to leave Malpas thus exposed andsubject to every chance indignity by the wayside, nor was I willing tocarry him openly to the Inn or any house at hand; so that, after somewhile's reflection, I decided to lay him in the boat I had come downby, covering his face with the sailcloth, and after, to launch him outinto the ebbing stream. The night was clear above, the thunder havingwholly passed; but from a mounting wrack of cloud that peered above theedges of the sky and a chill light wind athwart the river, I judged weshould have rain before morning, and so hastened to be done with mytask (which unspeakably revolted me) and get into shelter against theoncoming tempest. Notwithstanding 'twas the better part of an hour ereI had completed these hasty and suspicious rites, and had shoved awaythe skiff with its gaunt recumbent passenger outward (or was ithomeward?) bound.

  These pious offices done, I turned with a sigh from the black hurryingwater, and approached near to the Inn. I was surprised to see that alight now shone in Idonia's chamber, and from the shadows that now andthen traversed it, I understood that she was not yet retired to rest.How then I might direct her attention to me without at the same timeattracting such attention of others as I might well enough spare, Ivery earnestly debated; but at length, minding myself of the knife Ihad got from the dead Chinese, I drew it forth; and having torn off agreat burdock leaf where it grew by the bank, pricked with the knife'spoint the one word Denis (sufficient for my purpose, I thought), andrunning the blade through the midst of the leaf, poised, and let flywith it at the window. It struck the sill fairly, and hung quivering.My heart stood still during the interval that succeeded, but whenpresently that sweet small head appeared, all dark against the glory ofher hair, it leapt to my very throat for excess of joy.

  "Idonia," I whispered hoarsely, and came right beneath her window as Ispoke her name; "Idonia, I have come back."

  "Hush, dear," she besought me, and leaned forth from the sill, so thata strand or two of her hair hung down and touched the letters of myname in the leaf. "Do not speak again.... Oh, I have been waiting foryou, Denis! But you are come; I can see your face. I can see youreyes..."

  "You speak as if you feared something," I replied, in disregard of herwarning. "Are you threatened with any danger?"

  "No," she said; "at least I do not comprehend what may be dangers here.For it is a house of mystery. My guardian has but now left me. He isdisguised: I cried out when I saw him.... Oh, Denis, I am horriblyafraid here.... It is all so silent, and yet I know the place is fullof men."

  I hesitated no longer.

  "Is there anything by which you can make a rope?" I asked, "any sheetfrom your bed, or clothing?"

  She caught at my intention.

  "Yes, yes," she murmured, nodding. "There is my cloak. I will tearit."

  "They may hear the sound of the tearing," I said. "Do not move fromthe window." And so, returning to the little slip or inlet whence Ihad sent down the boat, I found the oars which I had removed from it,and carried them with me to the house. Idonia could just touch theblade of one with extended fingers when I held it out at arm's length.

  "It is too short," said Idonia, with a pitiful catch in her voice.

  I bade her keep her heart up, and, unclasping my belt, laced the twooars tightly together where they were frayed hollow by the thole. Thejoined staff they made reached high enough now, and without awaiting myinstruction Idonia caught it to her (I holding it upright) and swungherself lightly to the ground.

  "Free, oh free!" came her cry of exultation, and a moment after we heldeach other closely in a long embrace. Her lips were fire.

  "Oh, Denis, Denis, do not let me go, nor never leave you," she said,and I (witless braggart) swore that nought upon earth should sever us.

  I led her up the turf path, sheltering her from the rain that hadalready begun to fall thickly. My thoughts were all astray and I hadno plan of any sort, but still to have my arm about her, and feel heryielding to my touch, as spent with love and weary with the pride of somuch given.

  A man must feel humbled by the magnitude of that he asks of a maid, butall I could say was, brokenly: "I will try to be worthy, sweetheart."Poor words, but she thanked me for them joyfully. She besought me tolet her rest soon, and we sat down by a weather-twisted pile at thewater's edge, for I could not run into the jeopardy that might lurkamid the inhospitable dark houses of this place, where everythingoppressed with a sense of evil. My cloak kept off the worst of therain, but, as the rising wind swept across the river, Idonia shiveredwith the cold. Nevertheless she lost not a whit of her gaiety, whichindeed seemed to increase with her distress, and she would laugh moreloudly than I thought was altogether safe at some odd construction putupon my remonstrance in her wayward speech. I could not long disguisefrom myself her condition of fever, which at the same time I knew nothow to alleviate; but more than once I caught myself wishing I had lefther that night at the Inn, where, for all her fears, she had not beenany way molested, nor, I now thought, would likely have been, herguardian having returned, and Malpas beyond the power to annoy herfurther.

  A little later, and quite suddenly, she relaxed her extravaganthilarity, and fell into a moodiness equally to be pitied. She wept adeal then, and seemed to have got a strange perception of the malignantinfluences that surrounded us. The sound of the wind terrified her,and she would shrink down whispering that something tugged at hercloak. I did what I could to soothe and comfort her, but she onlyshook her head, or pressed my fingers with her hot hand.

  But the worst was when, by some trick of the brain, she thought herselfback in the Inn-room again, when Cleeve had entered in his horriduncouth dress, and with his yellow face and hands.

  "He said he was my guardian," she ran on, in a dull low voice, "but Iknew he was no one of this world. He said it was a foreign habit hehad filched from a dead man he had been enforced to kill, and that heused it to escape detection of the watch. Ah! it is all escaping withus--escaping and killing! I knew he had some secret lurking-place nearthe river; he has often said so, and that he went disguised when anygreat danger threatened. The watch ... and yet he used to laugh at it;but lately he has come to fear arrest: why is it? and so he killed aninnocent man and took his coat to save himself.... His eyes, when hetold me he had been waylaid at last, and almost at the Inn door! but hekill
ed that man too, he said: he hindering him. Christ! how his eyesdo sift you....

  "These jewels in the jar, now, I know they have all been worn by men hehas killed. I remember them perfectly well. There is the great crossthe Spaniard wore; and these rings. I wonder when it was you murderedhim. He was a fair-spoken gentleman, and I thought you were friends...

  "I forgot. This is you, Denis, not he I call my guardian. I do notthink he altogether trusts me any longer, although he gave me the jarto keep ... and I have left it behind in the Inn. It was worth aking's ransom, he said, and ordered me to keep it by me until he shouldhave finished a certain work he had below, that would not take himlong. I have left it, and he will be angry ... I fear him, Denis. Heis calm as death when he is angry....

  "And yet he can laugh too. He laughed when he told me of the Chinesehe killed, and how he dared his fellow to betray him. Oh, he made amerry tale of it, and of his forcing the poor wretch to simulate adesire to take vengeance upon a man that had fled--when it was he, themurderer himself, remained behind! Yes, and he laughed at you, Denis,until my blood burnt me ... I shall never forget his wrinkled heathenface as he laughed."

  It may appear an incredible motion of my mind, but I could have criedout for joy at a diversion which, then befalling, served to turn Idoniafrom these crazed memories; albeit the cause was one properly, and atanother time wholly, to be feared. For chancing to lift my eyes to oneof the houses that be here builded by the water's edge, and servedoubtless for the storage of marine stores and tackle, I saw a man, andafter, another, and then a whole posse of men armed with cuirass andhalberd, that advanced directly towards us. Idonia saw them almost atthe same moment, and seeming to recover her wits in the suddenness ofthe danger, she broke off, and turned to me with a swift glance ofinquiry.

  "Quick," I whispered; "down by the piles to the beach," and helped bythe darkness of the night we scrambled off the path on to the ribbon ofwet bank beneath it, where we crouched, perfectly concealed from thesoldiers.

  "Halt!" cried a voice above our heads, and the trampling footstepsceased. "We be thirty men strong, and none too many for this business.Anthony, take you twelve and post them before the door. Six men gowith Will Huet; see that none escape by the windows. There is a lightburns at one yet. I will take the complement and go within. Now markme well: our warrant is principally to the capture of Skene, aliasCleeve, and one Guido Malpas, that was of the Earl of Pembroke'shousehold, but since discharged. He is a tall black man and adangerous. It standeth upon us to apprehend the whole sort that herecongregate together. They will make resistance and you will defendyourselves, but for the rest I have it in my authority that no blood bewasted needlessly. A live captive may prove useful; a dead villain isnothing worth. The password is _At last_. Set on."

  Idonia had half risen from her place; she watched the retreating men asthey filed along towards the Inn.

  "I must warn him," she cried impetuously, and had clambered on to theturf path ere I could let her.

  "What madness is this?" I urged, aghast. "You would yourself bearrested or ever you could get sight of that devil."

  "Devil or no," she panted, while she struggled to unclasp myrestraining arms, "devil or no, he is my guardian. Denis, I cannotstand by idle and see him taken."

  "Sweetheart," I entreated her, "you can do nought, indeed. They be allarmed men..."

  "Hinder me no more!"

  "Idonia!"

  "Oh, it is cowardly, cowardly!"

  "Listen," I said, appealing.

  "Ah, Denis, let me not thus, or you will kill me.... See! they areclose to the house already. A little while and..." Her voice rose toa scream of absolute terror that I vainly sought to stifle against myheart. She flung her head back; her hair, shaken from the filet andcaught by the wind, streamed betwixt us like a cloud. We stood longthus.

  "Loose my wrists," she whispered, "or I shall grow to hate you, Denis!"and methought there went a sort of awe with the words. I let her go,when suddenly, with a sob, she dropped down unresisting into my arms.

  I knew she had spoken under the stress of her disorder, but none theless her words hurt me like a lash. It had revolted me to use mystrength upon her, although in love, and to hold her so straitlyagainst her will, who but a moment before had been leaning in freeconfidence beside me. The wind and rain were now increased to such apitch as I have scarce known: the dim bulk of the Inn hung in a mist ofswinging vapour, through which the glimmer of the one light aloft,shining, touched the edges of the slanted pikes.

  Idonia was plucking weakly at my sleeve. Her eyes were pitifully big."You look distressed, Denis," she said, in a crazed dull voice. "Whydo you look so stern and sad? We are together.... I forget how I gotaway, but that does not matter now, does it? Some one was holding meby the wrist and hurting me. I cried out, and you came. You alwayscome when they would be hurting me.... It is very cold," she shivered,and drew down more closely within my arms; all wet as her cheek was,its fever heat burnt through to my bosom.

  "You cannot walk," I said: "I will carry you." But all the while I wasthinking: "Is her reason gone?"

  "Whither, Denis? To the Inn? It would be warm there, out of the wind."

  "God forbid!" I answered her.

  "Ah! no ... I remember now. He is there.... His yellow face, and hiseyes when he gave me the jar to keep! ... Denis, Denis, Denis..."

  And so, without any further effort to beat off the oppression in herbrain and blood, she fell away into a long swoon: so long, indeed, thatI had almost despaired of reviving her, when I bethought me of the Inn,to which she had hoped I was about to bear her. There would be strongcordial wine in the vault, I knew; and a cordial she needed instantly.I might quickly go and return again with the wine--if the vent were butopen.

  The Inn was scarce ten score paces distant. There was some risk,perhaps, but not great: less, surely, than I took, kneeling helplessbeside her in the bitter storm. I bent over her and kissed herpassionately on her eyes and lips and brow; and then I hastened away.

  Had I known the upshot then, I would rather have lost my right handthan leave her; but that was in God's mercy hid....

  To speak my bottom thought, I had hardly dared to hope that the shutterwere still unhasped: but yet it was, and yielded easily to my touch. Ifelt a strange tightening of the throat as I pushed it back and leaptastride the sill. The vault below me was wholly dark. Without moreado I swung myself in. I missed my footing, fell, and lay stunned.

  How long a while elapsed ere I recovered consciousness I know not, noryet how long I remained in that intermediate state where things outwardbe still denied for real. A confusion of sounds assailed my achingbrain, from which I recked not to gather any purpose or tendency. Butat length, my head having somewhat cleared, I recalled my situation,where I was in the narrow passage-vault; and soon perceived that thesounds I had heard were those of men in earnest conference within oneof the vaults adjacent, that had formerly been barred. The lamp whichhad lighted the passage had been removed, and from the pale ray thatissued from the chink of the door, I saw it was now used for theirpurposes who spoke together beyond.

  Without, the storm raged very furiously, so that there were times whenI could hear nought else; but otherwhiles, whatever snatches of debateI overheard they went always to the continuous deep second of the wind.Some instinct of security held me silent, and after a little I draggedmyself painfully along the stone floor, until I had my ear at thechink. The halberdiers were certainly not of the party; they hadeither not yet entered, or else had come and, failing to discover thesemen's place of concealment, had gone. A man was speaking; a jovialrough voice it was, interrupted now and again by careless laughter.

  "You mind me of that tale of the two robbers," said the fellow, and Iheard the clink of a cup set down, "that were engaged to set upon acertain Canon who should pass through the wood they lurked within. Nowa passenger approaching, the one was for killing him out of hand, buthis companion, being so
mething scrupulous, would not, but bade him stayhis hand until the man should sing.

  "'I care not a jot how he sing,' says the Captain-robber.

  "'Nay, by his singing I can tell in a trice whether he be a canon orno,' says the robber-squire.

  "By this the passenger was got free of their ambush and into a placewhere two sheriff's men met him, at which he swore for mere joy.

  "'I would he had sung,' says the squire.

  "'Go to, buffle-head!' cries the other in a great rage, 'for by hisswearing I know him for the Father Abbot himself, and better yoursquealing Canon, by how much noon-sun surpasses candle-light.'"

  A round of hoarse merriment went to this shrewd apologue, of which Iwas yet to learn the application; but waited not long for it.

  "So then, Cutts, 'hold to that you have,' is your advice, trow?"

  "Ay, abbot or traitor, or barndoor fowl," replied Cutts (who was noneother, I found, than he that had fled away from Dunster so long since);"'truss and lay by,' says the housewife."

  "Well, you have me trussed already," said a mild voice, that for allits stillness overbore the murmurs which greeted Cutts his policy; andat the sound of it I caught in my breath, for 'twas my uncle thatspoke, and by his words I knew they had him bound.

  "I am not in case to do you harm, as a traitor, nor yet to benefit youas an abbot," my uncle proceeded very coolly. "But if it seem good toyour worships to restore me my freedom, I have my proofs of innocenceat hand to show to any that professes to doubt my faith."

  "Too late for that, Master Skene," said another.

  "Ay, Captain Spurrier, say you so?" returned my uncle, with a littlemenacing thrill in the sweet of his voice. "I had thought you that usethe sea knew that one must luff and tack upon occasion. Delay issometimes necessary, when haste would mean sudden shipwreck. Whereforethen do you say I speak too late?"

  "Where is Malpas?" cried Captain Spurrier, and by the grating of achair I perceived he had started to his feet.

  "I had thought to meet him here," said my uncle. "Our design stays forhim."

  There was a dead pause at that, and I could not but admire thefortitude with which the baited man met and countered his opposites.

  "He denounced you to this council, ere he went forth," said that subtlevoice of the tavern-server, "and upon such positive testimony as wecould not but allow it. If any lead this enterprise it is Malpas, andnot thou, old fox."

  "So thou use better terms, friend Jocelin," said Cleeve, "it shall notbe amiss, nor yet if thou answer me why it was I returned freely hitheramongst you all? Had I aught to gain from you? But rather had I notall to lose? There is a warrant out against me on the Queen's part;had I not done wisely, being so disguised as no man might know me, toavoid this suspected house? Yet I returned. Our ship is to sailto-morrow. Captain Spurrier is here in his place. What lacks of ourengagement? What hath gone untowardly? Is it Malpas his failure? Iask of you in my turn, where is Malpas? Is it not strange that uponsuch a night he should not be here to bear his part, as I do, and LucasSpurrier and Jocelin, and the rest? I say there is something I likenot in this defection; but yet it fears me not. Let them that befaint-hearted stay away; this enterprise is not for cowards. Do youlack a leader? You trusted me once. Malpas trusted me, for all hecozened you into a belief that he did not so; but he is gone." Hepaused, and then with so strangely intense a malignancy as, despite myknowledge, I could scarce credit that 'twas assumed, he added: "Wouldthat I knew whither Guido Malpas hath gone, and what to do!"

  There was such clamour of contrary opinions, oaths and hot argument,when he had done, that I could not tell how it went, but graduallyconceived the opinion that they believed him and were about to set himfree, when, to my utter dismay, I heard the door at the stairhead openand heavy steps descend to the passage where I lay concealed. Icrouched down on the instant, but dared not move from the place, norindeed had the opportunity to retreat by one step, when the men werealready in the room; but so dark it was I could not see their arms (forI doubted nothing of their being the halberdiers) nor their numbersthat entered. They set the door open of the inner vault and trooped inupon the conspirators.

  I saw them now. They were men that bore a body. The tide had set inagain. The boat with its burden had returned upon the flood.