"Master Roland Rashcliffe?" he said.
"Yes, Your Grace," I replied.
"Tell me, boy, is your father an honest man?"
The question was asked abruptly, as though he would take me unawares.
"He fought for your father," I replied.
"So did many a knave, until he thought he would gain by joining the rebels."
At this I was silent.
"Why did he send thee to find out if there was any truth in the lying story that his Majesty married the wench Lucy Walters?"
"To discover the truth," I replied, for it seemed to me at that moment as though there were nought else to say.
At this he laughed, but the laugh was cruel, and never did I hear a man's voice that had less mirth in it.
"Well, what have you found?" he said presently. "You left your home many days ago. You went to Folkestone, from thence you made a midnight journey to a lonely house. Tell me how you fared, and what trophies you possess as a result of your valour."
At this I was silent, for in truth never did words appear more dangerous than at this moment.
"How now, sirrah! You do not speak!"
King's brother though he was, he made me angry, and I resented the tones he used towards me.
"What, you do not answer me? Know you that you do wrong in making me angry? I tell you it would be an easy matter to put another in the already flowing prisons of England, and so I bid you beware. What did you discover at the lonely house, and what did you bring away?"
"You should already know, Your Grace," I replied boldly, for by this time all my fear of him had gone. Perhaps my anger had driven it away. If it had, it were no wonder, for had I been a lackey he could not have spoken with less courtesy, while the thickness of his voice, and his rheumy eyes, made me feel sure that he had been drinking heavily.
"What mean you, young malapert?" he asked.
"I mean that I was attacked by men who used your name when riding to London," I answered; "that they dragged me from my horse, and searched me to the skin. If I had possessed aught they would surely have brought it to you."
At this I was in doubt as to what course he would take. I saw the blood mount to his cheek, and anger gleam from his eyes, while he lifted his hand as if he would strike me. But this was only for a moment. Instead of yielding to anger he burst into a great laugh, as though he had heard a good joke.
"Ha, ha!" he cried, "you discovered that you could do nought without discovery, eh? You found out that the royal arm can strike far, eh? You learnt that you cannot hunt in royal domains without being bitten by the keeper's dogs? Is that not so, my young springald?"
"The king's brother is not the king," I cried, for now I saw that unless I would place myself entirely in his power I must take a bold course.
"What mean you?" he cried.
"I mean that when I have discovered aught that affects the king, I will bear my message to the king," I replied, "but, until then, I will hold my peace as a man should."
"I have a good mind to send you to the dungeons."
"If you did I should soon be a free man again," I replied.
"And how is that?"
"The king would soon hear that his brother threw a youth into prison because that youth knew something that affected the king's honour," I replied. "And the king, on hearing of this, would demand to see him, and he would tell his Majesty many things."
"Tut, tut, youth," he said, still gazing at me curiously. "Do not think because you have answered me pertly that you have answered me wisely, and do not imagine that although a man doth not wear a crown he hath no power. Oh, I see how it is. You were carried away by what you saw when the king came to London. You saw the London Corporation do his Majesty homage at St. George in the Fields, you saw the streets all flaunting with bunting, you beheld the twelve hundred velvet-coated lackeys, the footmen in purple, and buff, and silver, and green, and blue; you heard the trumpets sounding, the people shouting, and the clergy waiting to do homage to their most gracious and Protestant king. I say, you saw all this, while they took no notice of the heir-apparent. But it is not always the man who wears the crown who reigns. Take our brother Louis across the water. He wore the crown while a priest reigned. It was so before him. Louis XIII, the man who was always tired, wore the crown, but Richelieu ruled the land. But wait a little, Mazarin will die, and then a change will come. Let me tell you something, young malapert. It is the man with will and brains who reigns, whether he be the king or the king's brother. Moreover, it is he who is not too much given over to pleasure, and who holds the true faith."
"Have a care, Your Grace, have a care," said the man who had accompanied me hither, for he saw what by this time I was assured of, that the king's brother had partaken of much wine.
"Have a care for whom?" said the duke angrily. "Am I to be bearded by a boy? Look you here, and remember," and his voice was thick as he spoke, "the king's brother can bestow benefits as well as the king, remember that, and the king's brother can reward those who are faithful. Besides, the man who is only the king's brother to-day may be king next year. Never forget. And think of something else. A man need not be anointed by a bishop to alter a country's laws. Hath any law been passed against the Presbyterians or Puritans or Dissenters? What saith the king? 'Justice to all.' Yet even at this time hundreds of Presbyterians and Puritans have been ousted from their pulpits, while Independents and Baptists crowd our gaols. Who hath done this? 'Oh, no man hath done it,' is the reply. It is all because the Episcopalians believe that now Charles Stuart is come back they can e'en send the others apacking. But who shall say they have heard no word from James Stuart?"
"Your Grace! Your Grace!"
"Ay, cannot a man speak his own mind? This boy is not a fool, and will know how to be discreet. And now I have a word more to say. Have you, Master Roland Rashcliffe, discovered aught concerning this supposed marriage contract between the king and Lucy Walters?"
"Yes," I replied, before I was well aware, and for which word I was ready to bite my tongue out.
"You have seen it?" and I noticed that he spoke more clearly, as though my news had sharpened his wits.
"I have seen that which purports to be what you inquire after," I replied.
Never did I see a man change more suddenly. He seemed to throw off the effects of wine in an instant.
"You have seen it? Where?"
At this I was silent, for I felt not like giving away my secret.
"Speak, Roland, I command you."
I started, for it was my father's voice which I had heard, and then I knew that it was he who had entered the room with the duke, and who had hidden his face from me.
"Father!" I cried.
"Ay, it is I, Roland, and it is I who command you to tell his Grace what he desires to know. I have told him nothing because I have seen nothing, but it is my will that you tell him what you have seen."
My father's presence set me wondering greatly. As I have said, I had not seen him since my return to London, and now to discover that he had been in communication with the king's brother staggered me. Rightly or wrongly, I concluded that he could gain no hearing with his Majesty, and so had sought an audience with the duke.
"Remember," said the duke, "this story is lies from end to end. Yet I do not say that some one hath not forged such a contract. Moreover, if such a contract, although it is as valueless as the paper on which it is written, were to pass from hand to hand, it would set gossips' tongues wagging, and perchance unhinge affairs of state. You say you have seen this. Where have you seen it?"
In spite of myself I could not help pausing, and whether the king's brother had fears concerning what I should do with my knowledge, or whether he desired to enlist my friendship, I know not, but before I could speak, he went on —
"Did you read it?"
"Ay, I read it."
"What did it say?"
"It was a marriage contract between his Majesty and the Welsh girl, Lucy Walters."
"You can take your oath to this?"
"I can take my oath that I read such words on a piece of parchment."
"Signed by Charles Stuart?"
"Ay, and by others."
"Their names?"
"Pierre Rousseau and François Abelard."
"You swear this?"
"I swear that I saw such a parchment."
"But where? Tell me where?"
"It was in such a strange place that I cannot describe it. Yet methinks I could find it again."
He seemed so carried away by what I had told him that he started to his feet.
"Find it, Master Roland Rashcliffe, and bring it to me. If you will do this, you may depend on my smile all your life through."
"Obey his Grace, Roland," said my father.
"Stay," said the duke, directly my father had spoken, and I thought suspicion gleamed in his eyes. "Your father informs me that your discovery was made before we landed on English shores. You were at Dover at our coming. What have you been doing with yourself since?"
"If you will ask Caleb Bullen, he will tell you I have been staying at the Virgin Queen, at St. Paul's Cross," I said; then, fearing further questions, I went on, "but the thing you require of me is not easy of accomplishment. Already I have nearly lost my life in the search thereof, and – "
"I have nought to do with that," he interrupted. "Set out without delay and bring this thing to me, and this I will promise. I will see to it that all your father's estates are restored, and I will take it upon myself to assure your future. There is many an Independent fattening upon fair estates who will soon be in gaol; there is many a highborn dame who will gladly accept the hand of the youth upon whom the Duke of York smiles. Now, then, I seek to hear no more, and know no more. But stay, all such business requires money. Garnett, see to it that a purse with a hundred pounds be given to him. And more, what is done must be done secretly, and no man must know thy doings."
With this he left the room, and without another word passed out of my sight. I make confession here that the interview wellnigh stunned me. The duke had not been one, but three men during the time we had been together. At one time he had been cruel, hard, stern; at another he seemed to have his wits muddled with wine, when he had spoken in a way unworthy his high estate; and yet when he left me he made me feel that he was a man to be obeyed, strong, masterful, and clear-minded. In addition to this, my father had evidently been in secret conclave with him, and it was he who had bidden me obey the duke's commands. Therefore, although I was sorely bewildered, because he had commanded I must perforce obey.
One thing gave me peace of mind, and that was the fact that no mention had been made of the woman I had released at Bedford. I felt sure that did the duke dream of my action towards the woman who was accused of attempting the murder of General Monk, he would have used it as a threat in order to make me do his will. As it was, he took both my obedience and my silence for granted, and seemingly had no doubts, in spite of my behaviour during the first part of the interview, that I should dare to refuse his bidding.
"You have heard?" said the man who had accompanied me. "You have your work – do it."
I did not answer, for at this moment my father returned.
"Roland," he said, "here are the hundred pounds. You will note that they come from me. Obey his Grace's command. It is not only his will, but mine. Now haste, for I fear you have wasted time. Good-bye, and fear nothing."
At this he left me again, while I stood gazing at the door through which he had passed, almost too surprised for words.
"You have heard," said Master Garnett, "now go and be thankful. I need not tell you to be silent. You are not one who is foolish enough to talk with every passerby, but remember this – if you fail to do the duke's bidding the four seas that wash our shores would not save you from his anger."
Five minutes later I was in the street again, and that which I had seen and heard was only as a dream. Still, I had a hundred pounds in my pouch, and I knew that in accordance with the command of the king's brother, I must e'en make a second attempt to obtain what I at that time believed might be the king's marriage contract.
Within two hours of that time I was on horseback again, for by this time the fever of adventure was upon me, and I determined to again find my way within the walls of Pycroft Hall, and to take the parchment I had seen from its strange hiding place.
As I rode along I wondered that I had been content to wait in London so long, and had not, without the duke's command, sought to outwit the old man I had seen in the lonely house. For although I believed the old man had never imagined that I should escape alive, and therefore would not remove the contract from its hiding place until he was able to make terms with the king, I remembered that several days had elapsed wherein he might have carried it I know not whither. It was then I remembered that the great thought in my mind had not been to obtain the parchment which might alter the destiny of the nation, but to give help to the woman with whom I had so strangely been brought into contact. In truth it came to me that so eager had I been to hear news of her after I had returned to London town that I had scarcely ever thought of the mission which had brought us together. At this I grew angry with myself, for although she was very fair to look upon she was a Dissenter at heart, the wife of a man who had taken part in the death of the king's father, and was even then hiding from those who would bring her to punishment. As I said, I grew angry with myself because of this, yet in spite of my anger I wondered much concerning her, and prayed most earnestly for her safety and her welfare.
By the time daylight dawned I was far away from London, and was riding through one of the fairest tracts of country of which perchance our country can boast. I have, during my life, had occasion to ride through many parts of our land, but never do I remember thinking aught so fair as that through which I passed that day. The sun rose in a cloudless sky, the birds were singing all around me as they perched upon the leafy trees, while on my right hand, and on my left, the countryside rose and fell in gentle hills and dales.
"How quiet and restful everything is," I thought, and then I reflected that the day was the Sabbath, so I let Black Ben drop into a walk, in order that I might be able to enjoy with more comfort the beauty of the scene.
The sun was high in the heavens when I saw that I was drawing near a small town, so I determined that I would stay there for breakfast, never dreaming that I should pass through such a strange experience, and yet one the like of which was being witnessed all over the country.
CHAPTER XIX
THE SCENE AT THE PARISH CHURCH
"What place is this?" I asked of a peasant as I drew near the town I have mentioned.
"Maidstone," was the reply. "Be you going to the church?"
"Maybe," I replied, "but it is early yet."
"Ay, early, but not too early if you will see the sights."
"What sights?"
"Haven't you heard? Why God a' mercy, the old rector hath come back, and hath got together twenty men to help the constables. Besides, I hear that Master Burnbridge is shaking in his shoes."
"And who is Master Burnbridge?"
"Why you must be a furriner not to know. From whence come you, master?"
"I come from London."
"Ay? From London? Then you have seen the new king?"
"Ay, I have seen him; but who is Master Burnbridge?"
"He is the Independent minister who hath ministered in the parish church for many a year. He is much beloved of the people, too, and hath many followers. But the new king hates the Presbyterians and the Independents, so we are to see gay doings to-day. It is but ten o'clock yet, but I mean to get near the pulpit so that I can see all that goes on. The old vicar, Master Noel, was one of Bishop Laud's men, and it will be rare sport to see him tackle Master Burnbridge."
"But he hath no right to do this."
"That's no matter. I do hear that the king is going to make a law, so Master Noel is taking time by the forelock, and we are to have gay doings."
The man turned in at a side road, while I rode on towards the inn I had seen in the main street. I called to mind what the Duke of York had said to me only the night before, and to me his words bore on the peasant's gossip. When he had said that although no laws had been passed against Independents and Presbyterians they had already been ejected from their pulpits, and many had been thrown into gaol, I could only regard it as the talk of a man who had drunk too freely; but now I saw that he spoke not without his book, and I determined that I would also find my way to the parish church that morning.
Desirous as I was of seeing what should take place, however, I saw to it that Black Ben was well foddered, and the morning air being pure and appetizing, I could not resist the breakfast which was placed before me. In truth so hearty was I that the church bell stopped ringing before I found myself in the churchyard. When I reached the porch of the church I found that if I entered it would be with difficulty. Nor do I think I should have found admission at all had not the people believed, when they saw my gay attire, and a sword hanging by my side, that I was sent by the king to see justice done. As it was many made way for me, and so I soon found myself within the church, which was filled from end to end with an eager crowd. I noticed that there was no noise nor confusion. Some, indeed, whispered to each other, while others smiled as if triumphantly, but on the faces of most was a look of pain and sorrow. On more than one countenance, however, I saw angry defiance, and I felt sure that although they were in the House of God, the affair was full of foreboding.
I had scarcely found a position from which I could both see and hear, when a man wearing a black gown entered the pulpit, and commenced to open the Bible, but scarcely had he done this than another, wearing a white surplice, rose from a pew close by, and said in a loud voice —
"In the name of God, and of the King's Majesty, I command you to desist."
"Who are you?" asked the man in the pulpit.
"John Noel, vicar of this parish," was the reply.
"Prove your right to that name," was the answer.
"It is my intention so to do," was the answer, "but, before I do so, do thou, a schismatic and a usurper, retire from this sacred building. For years hath this sacrilege continued, because the king hath been kept from his own; but now the king hath returned, and law and order must be restored."
"I have heard of thee," said the Independent; "thou art he who brought popish devices into the House of God, and because of it the people of this parish did drive thee out. Go thy way. This is the House of God, and it must not be made a den of thieves. The king promised before he came back that each minister should keep his benefice, and the king's promise is above thy prating."
"Come down, I tell thee, and desecrate not this holy place," cried the man wearing the surplice.
"I will not come down," cried the other. "I have been called of God to minister to this people, and this will I do in spite of the hosts of the Philistines."
Upon this he opened the Bible and began to read, but before six words had passed his lips a great number of strong men, armed, went to the pulpit and pulled him headlong from thence.
"Put him out of the House of God!" and I heard the voice of Master Noel above the mutterings of the people.
When Master Burnbridge had been dragged from the pulpit he was allowed to stand in the aisle, while Master Noel, his Prayer-book in his hand, mounted, and in a loud voice commanded the people to be silent for prayer. But this they would not be, for a great number of them arose and cried, "Master Burnbridge is our pastor, and he alone shall minister unto us."
Then I saw a great number of them rise, and were making their way towards him with anger in their eyes, and their hands clenched ready to strike, whereupon the many who had evidently been brought thither by Master Noel drew their weapons, and prepared to do battle.
I think the Independent minister saw that it would be useless for his followers to fight for him, or else he dreaded a scene of riot in the House of God, for he spoke aloud —
"Be quiet, good people," he said, "and fight not in the House of God with carnal weapons. This papist priest hath planned to do this, and we will not resist. It is true that Charles hath not commanded this, neither hath Parliament assented unto it, but this man believeth that both will support him. Moreover since the king's coming many of the people have turned riotous and drunken, and will no longer have the pure milk of the Word. But although we may be driven from the House of God, we are still the Lord's people, so let us go quietly to a field close by, so that we may worship God even as our fathers have done. Unhand me," he continued, turning to those who had dragged him from the pulpit, and still held him fast, "and I and my flock will e'en go where we can worship God unmolested, and where we can pray that the Lord's people may be protected."
At this the armed men let Master Burnbridge go, whereupon he walked down the aisle, as well as he was able for the crowd, while a goodly number, it might be a hundred, followed him from the church.
I was in two minds which to do. To leave the church with the Independents, or to stay and listen to Master Noel; but as I was anxious to hear what the follower of Archbishop Laud might have to say I took a seat close by, and prepared to listen. But few, I fancy, listened to the prayers which were read from the Prayer-book that morning. Each man had been too much moved by what had taken place to enter into the spirit of prayer, and I think every one heaved a sigh of relief when at length Master Noel began to preach. He gave out as his text these words – "The ploughers ploughed my back; they made long furrows. The Lord is righteous; he hath cut asunder the cords of the wicked." This text, he said, was indeed a true description of the followers of the Lord, since that son of Belial, Oliver Cromwell, had murdered his most sacred majesty, Charles I, and especially was it true of him, John Noel, who had been ejected from his church and vicarage by a committee of traitors, because of his loyalty to the late king. These incestuous heretics had discarded the Prayer-book, blasphemed against the one true Church, and committed sacrilege in the House of God. Moreover in the guise of those who prate about liberty they had allowed all sorts of heresy in the church, even while they were themselves the most rampant bigots. Yet had they sought to catch the itching ears of the ignorant by talks about toleration. But their reign was at an end, and soon the people of God would be freed from their accursed intolerable toleration. After this he enlarged upon what he called the heresies of Master Burnbridge, who for so long had poisoned the minds of the people, and who had that day been driven forth from God's house.
After speaking thus he dealt with his right to hire men to drive out the usurper. It is true, he said, that no law had yet been passed whereby such usurpers as Master Burnbridge had been driven forth, nevertheless this was within the rights of the aforetime rectors and vicar of the parishes. His Majesty King Charles II. was a Protestant, a man of God, and a loyal member of the Episcopal Church. He had not yielded to the Presbyterians who had appealed to him, and had not made any concessions to them. This proved that his Majesty had no sympathy with them. Therefore seeing that without bishops, priests, and deacons, there could be no king, it was right and fitting that they, as the king's loyal subjects, should return to their churches. This had been done in many places all over England, even before the king landed at Dover, and so far had justice been vindicated that in Wales especially scores of these naughty Independents had been driven from the churches, and hundreds of them had been thrown into gaol, until those same gaols were full even to overflowing. Thus they were right in ejecting this fellow Burnbridge. He was a usurper, and therefore was cast out of the temple, even as those who bought and sold in the temple at Jerusalem were cast out of olden time.
