Chapter 6

Choler was rising in the assembly; but Simon, with that intuitive and inexplicable control which superior minds possess, almost unknowingly, over their associates, quelled the outburst of the flame by a single glance. Another look was directed to the royal pupil at his side, when the latter spoke as follows:--

"Our presence here, it should seem, is a sufficient answer to the questions of our lord abbot. Being lawful heir to the English crown, we might command the allegiance, if not the homage, of your head; but we would rather win with fair entreaty than command our unwilling subjects, and to this end have we sent messengers to the superior of your house, urging his help and submission."

This reply was given with a dignity and an assurance denoting that either he was the individual he personated, or that he had been well schooled in his craft.

A murmur of applause was heard through the assembly, but the monk was unmoved to any show of recognition or even respect. Waiting until he could be heard, the envoy again inquired--

"And who art thou? and by what pretence claimest thou this right?"

"By hereditary descent. Knowest thou Edward, Earl of Warwick, now thy king?"

"I have heard of him," continued the monk in the same dubious and inflexible tone; "but his bodily appearance hath not been vouchsafed unto me."

"See him here!" said the royal claimant, rising with great majesty and condescension. But the churchman neither did homage, nor in any way testified his loyalty to, or apprehension of, so exalted a personage.

"Truly it is a marvellous thing," replied he, "that the Earl of Warwick should so order his appearance, at one and the same time, both in London and at our good fortress here in Fouldrey!" A slight curl of the lip was visible as he spoke.

"The Earl of Warwick," said Simon, "cannot now be abiding where thou sayest, insomuch as the bodily tabernacle, his dwelling in the flesh, is before thee."

"But we have a messenger from thence, even with a writing from the hands of the holy prior of St Alban's, who sendeth us the news, lest we should be beguiled. Father Anselm hath seen the earl, who was brought forth from the Tower by command of the king, being conducted publicly through the principal thoroughfares of the city, that the people should behold, and not in any wise be led astray through the evil reports and machinations of the king's enemies."

Here he paused, folding his arms with a haughty and reserved look; but Simon, no wise disconcerted by this terrible, unexpected, and apparently fatal exposure of their plot, replied with a smile of the most intrepid assurance----

"We knew of this, and were prepared for the wiles of the usurper. Know then, that, through the agency and good offices of that renowned princess, Margaret, Duchess of Burgundy, the king's escape from the Tower was accomplished; but not by might, nor by human power nor device, but by faith and prayer, was the work wrought out, which holy communion her enemies do maliciously report as the practice of sorcery and the forbidden art. Howbeit the king hath escaped, as thou seest, the fangs of the executioner. Stay, I perceive what thou wouldest urge in reply, but listen for a short space. In order to deter them from pursuit on finding his escape, and with a view likewise to lull them into vain confidence and carnal security, another was left in his place, whom they, of necessity, imagine to be their captive; but it is not a real thing of flesh and blood, though to them it may so appear. When his time shall be accomplished, the form will vanish, to the downfall and confusion of the usurper and the utter overthrow of our enemies."

Here the assembly gave a loud and unanimous token of their exultation by shouts and exclamations of loyalty and obedience.

After a short reverie, the monk replied--

"We know of a surety that the Princess Margaret, as well as her royal brother, Edward the Fourth, did use to practise in forbidden arts; but we must have testimony indisputable to the truth of your claim, ere it be that we render our belief. Surely the power that wrought thy deliverance would not, if need were, leave thee without the means of proving thine identity. How know we that thou art he whom thou hast represented, and not the impostor Simnel, as thine enemies do not scruple openly to affirm?"

"We are not without either the means or the power to prove and to assert our right," said the priest, rising. He drew a phial from his bosom.

"One drop of this precious elixir," continued he, "if it touch the form of yon changeling, will dissolve the charm: on the real person of the king it becomes harmless."

"Truly, 'tis a proof not to be gainsaid; but over-long i' the making, and too far for the fetching," replied the monk scornfully.

"'Tis bootless to attempt the salvation of those who will not believe: nevertheless, they shall perish through their own devices, and be caught in their own snares."

Simon threw a threatening glance at the monk, which he received with a cool and undaunted aspect.

"Verily, your blood be on your own heads," cried Simon, with a loud voice, "and your reward in your right hand. Behold, thou scourner, and tremble; for your destruction cometh as a whirlwind, and he in whom you trust shall be as the stubble which the fire devoureth."

The enthusiast, as he spoke, struck a heavy blow on the floor with his foot, when there came a low rumbling sound like the roar of the wind through some subterraneous abyss, or the distant moan of the sea, driven on by the rushing tempest. The whole assembly stood aghast, save the king and the two disputants.

"Shall I strike once more?"

"Do as seemeth to thee good," said the monk deliberately; "but think not to intimidate me with thy fooleries."

"Then beware. I obey, but it is with awe and reluctance."

It is said that Simon's heart failed him as he gave the blow, or the effects would have been more terrific. But the castle shook as with an earthquake; even the incredulous monk looked amazed and confounded.

"Shall I repeat the stroke?" said Simon, when the disturbance had in some measure subsided. "But remember, I will not answer for the result. Only in cases of the greatest difficulty and trial it was that the duchess made me resort to so dangerous a resource."

Most of his hearers besought him to desist. Simon yielded at once to their entreaties, and the uplifted foot fell softly on the floor. Soft and noiseless though it was, yet they saw a lurid mist roll upward; and a form, apparently of gigantic size, was faintly visible in the dark vapour, as it swept slowly through the apartment. Even Simon and his royal pupil showed symptoms of agitation and alarm.

The assembly was suddenly dissolved. The proud ambassador of a prouder prelate was astonished and bewildered, and hastily took his leave to report these occurrences to his master.

The whole of these proceedings, in all probability, were but the artful contrivance of an ambitious priest; and yet, connected as they were with a female whose well-known predilection for the occult sciences, and herself no mean adept therein, they assumed in those ages of credulity and superstition more the character of miraculous events than as happening in the common course and established order of nature. The alarm of the king, too, evidently at the appearance of the figure, caused some to say that it was the arch-enemy himself to whom these conspirators had sold themselves.

In the meantime, Dick, having been delivered over to the tormentors, was transferred to the prison or dungeon by the porch. He bore his mishap with wondrous fortitude and equanimity. Many a strange inquiry and silly speech did he make as he heard the sound of footsteps pass the door, through which a few chinks admitted a doubtful glimmer into his cell.

"I seay--hears to me, lad?" shouted he to a gruff Fleming, as he passed to and fro before the entrance to his prison-house; but the guard heeded him not. Dick listened; then, repeating his demand, muttered certain conventional expressions, not over-nice either in their form or application. He then began to sing, performing a series of _cantabile_ movements in the most ludicrous manner possible; sometimes chanting a _Miserere_ or an _Ave_, then breaking into some wild northern ballad or roundelay of unintelligible import. It was in the midst of a cadence which he was terminating with great earnestness and effect that the first deep rumble, the result of Simon's appeal to the truth and justice of their cause, interrupted Dick's vocal dispositions for a while; but when the second concussion took place, shaking the very stones in their sockets and the hard floor under his feet, Dick ran whooping and bellowing round his den as though he had been possessed, laughing, amid the wild uproar, like some demon sporting fearlessly in the fierce turmoil of the troubled elements. The sentinel ran, terrified, from the door, and the whole camp and garrison were flying to arms, in fear and consternation. Dick, drumming with his fist, found the door yield to his efforts, and he marched forth without let or molestation. His besetting sin was curiosity, which oftentimes led him into difficulties and mishaps. Though just now a prisoner, and escaping by means little less than miraculous, yet, instead of making the best use of this opportunity for escape, he commenced a sort of prying adventure on his own account--a temptation he could not resist--by walking, or rather shuffling, into the guard-room, where his own peculiar crab-like sinuosities were particularly available. A number of soldiers were jabbering some unintelligible jargon, too much occupied with their own clamour to notice Dick's proceedings.

Through a confused jumble of warlike implements, intermingled with camp-kettles and cooking utensils, some steaming with savoury preparations for the evening's repast, and others nearly ready for the service, Dick insinuated himself, until he came to a little door in the corner, the entrance to a staircase communicating with the leads above. Through this door marched the incorrigible intruder--the sentry from the summit having just issued therefrom, fearful lest the castle should tumble about his ears. Dick's course was therefore unimpeded; and after sundry gyrations and stoppages, now and then, to peep through the loopholes, he emerged into broad daylight on the roof of the tower. Here he paused for some time, entranced with the sudden change he beheld. The bustle and animation around and below him; the vessels, with their brave and gallant equipments, anchored in the bay;--all this amused Dick vastly for a while. But the most heart-ravishing delights end ultimately in satiety and disgust, greater, and probably more keenly felt, the more they have been relished and enjoyed. Dick began to feel listless and tired with his day's work. He laid his head upon a groove or niche in the battlements, and fell fast asleep. It seems the sentinel did not return; for Dick remained undisturbed, and when he awoke it was completely dark, save that there was a wan gleam from a dull watery moon, just dipping into a stratum of dark clouds over the sea. His ideas, not over-lucid in broad daylight, would necessarily be still more hazy and obscure in his present situation. Unable to extricate them, he rubbed his eyes and made faces; yawned and groped about for his usual dormitory, in a little cell behind the kitchen at the abbey. But the vision of the moon--which, by reason of the confined glen wherein the abbey was built, rarely blessed the sight of a night-watcher--was a wondrous and puzzling appearance. He had some confused recollection that he had mounted a flight of steps, and that, by contrary motion, descending would be the next consequent movement. To this end he diligently sought an opening, and, naturally enough, took the first that presented itself. Creeping round the angle of a turret, he came to a flight of steps, which he descended. It was not long ere he perceived a faint light through an aperture or chink in the wall. He pressed against the side cautiously, when the wall itself appeared to give way, and he entered, through a narrow door, into a large room, lighted by a few turf embers, that flickered dimly on the hearth. A tester bed was near him, whose grim shadow concealed the objects under its huge canopy. It was the king's chamber; but so softly and cautiously was the entrance effected that Dick's footsteps did not awake him. He was heard, nevertheless, by the priest Simon, who, being concealed by the curtains on the other side, was not seen by the intruder. Dick stood still, on being addressed in a low and suppressed voice as follows:--

"Thou art early, Maurice; but thy despatches are ready. They are on the chair at thy right hand. Thou hast had thy instructions. Be speedy and discreet. On the third day, ere sunset, we look for thy return."

Dick put out his hand and laid hold of a sealed packet, which he took with becoming gravity, and luckily in silence.

"The same password, 'Warwick,' will convey thee hence; a boat is in waiting, and so God speed," said the priest.

Dick returned by the way he came, and descending the turret staircase, found a sentry standing at the outlet into the guard-chamber. It was dark, and Dick's person was not recognised. With a sort of blundering instinct he gave the word and passed on. This magic sound conveyed him safely through bars, bolts, and all other impediments. The drawbridge was lowered, and Dick, in a little time, found himself again upon the beach, where a boat was waiting to carry him to the opposite shore.

"Who goes there?" inquired a gruff voice from the skiff.

"Why Dick--Warwick," cried the blundering knave, nigh mistaking his cue.

"Hang thee," said the ferryman, "what art' ganging o' this gait for? If I'd ken'd it waur thee 'at I'd orders to lie by in shore for, thou might ha' waited a wee for aught 'at I'd ha' brought."

"Hush!" said Dick, full of importance from his newly-acquired diplomatic functions; "I'm message to the king yonder."

"Ill betides him that has need o' thee," said the boatman, surlily;--"come, jump in. They'd need of a hawk, marry, to catch a buzzard."

Just as Dick was preparing to step in, a low, slight-made figure passed by whom the boatman immediately challenged.

"Warwick!" said he, and would have passed on.

"Nay, nay," said Dick; "I'm Warwick, ma lad; there's no twa on us; they gied me that name i' the castle yon, just now. I'se butter'd if thou shall ha't too." Dick was a powerful fellow, and he collared the other in a twinkling. "Thou'rt a rogue, I tell thee, an' about no good; an' I've orders from the governor yonder to tak' thee. Bear a hand, boatie, and in wi' him. There--there."

Spite of his struggles and imprecations, the stranger was impounded in the boat, and Dick soon forced him to be quiet. They pushed off, and in a short time gained the other shore. Here Dick, with that almost instinctive sagacity which sometimes accompanies a disturbed state of the intellects, would not allow his prisoner either to go back to the island or remain in the boatman's custody, but secured him to his own person, setting off at a brisk pace towards the abbey. In vain the stranger told him that he had business of great moment at the castle; that he was a page of the court, and on the eve of a secret mission from the priest, who was now waiting for him with the despatches. Dick resolved, with his usual cunning it seems, to conceal his possession of these documents, and, at the same time, to prevent the real messenger from revealing the deception by his appearance at the castle.

It was past midnight; yet the abbot and several of the brethren were still assembled in close council. The importance of the events that were unfolding, and in which their own line of conduct was to be firmly marked out and adhered to, necessarily involving much deliberation and discussion, had kept them beyond their usual hour of retirement.

A bell rung at the outer gate, and shortly afterwards one of the brotherhood in waiting announced that two men were without, craving audience, and that one of them, when asked his name, answered "Warwick."

"Ah!" said the bewildered abbot, with a sudden gleam of wonder and gladness on his countenance--"does he come hither? then is our deliverance nearer than we hoped for, even from the special favour and interference of Heaven. Admit them instantly."

But in a little while the messenger came back in great dudgeon to say that the knave who had demanded admittance with such a peremptory message was none other than Dick Empson, the errand boy to the abbey. "What can possess him," continued the monk, "I greatly marvel; for he still persists in demanding audience, saying that he is 'Warwick.' He refers to some message from the castle with which he is charged, but he refuses to deliver it save into the hands of the reverend abbot himself. Furthermore, he has brought a prisoner, he sayeth, and will have him taken into safe custody."

"Why, bring him hither," said the abbot; "there's little harm can come by it. He has a shrewd and quick apprehension at times, under that silly mask, which I have thought he wears but for purposes of knavery and concealment."

The monk folded his hands and retired. Returning, he was followed by Dick, who assumed a very grave and solemn demeanour before this august and reverend assembly.

"Why art thou abroad in these evil times, and at such improper hours too? To the meanest of our servants it is not permitted. Speak. Thine errand?"

The abbot looked towards the offender with an air of displeasure; but Dick, hitching up his hosen with prodigious fervour, gave a loud and expressive grunt.

"Dick is a fool," said he; "but he ne'er begged benison of an abbot, a bone from a starved dog, or a tithe-pig from a parson."

"What is the message wherewith thou hast presumed upon our audience?"

"If ye rear your back to a door, see to it that it be greatly tyned, or ye may get a broken head for trust."

"And is this thy message, sirrah? Hark ye, let this fool be put i' the stocks, and well whipped."

"And who'll be the fule body then?" said Dick, leering. "I ken ye be readier wi' a taste o' the gyves than oatmeal bannocks; an' sae I'se gang awa' to my mither."

"Thou shalt go to the whipping-post first."

"Haud off," shouted Dick, who flung aside the person that would have seized him with the most consummate ease, at the same time placing himself in the attitude of defence; "haud off, as ye are true men," said he; "I'm cousin to the king, and I charge ye with high treason!"

"Enough," said the abbot; "we may pity his infirmity; but let him be sent to the mill for punishment. Now to business, which I fear me hath suffered by this untimely interruption."

"Happen you'll let me be one of the guests," said the incorrigible Dick, thrusting himself forward, even to the abbot's chair, which so discomposed his reverence that he cried in a loud and authoritative tone--

"Will none of ye rid me of this pestilence? By the beard of St Cuthbert, I will dispose of him, and that presently!"

Seizing him by the shoulder, the abbot would have thrust him forth, but Dick slipped dexterously aside. Taking out the packet, he broke open the seals, and immediately began to tumble about the contents, seating himself at the same time in the vacant chair of the abbot, with great solemnity, and an air of marvellous profundity in his demeanour. It was the work of a few moments only; a pause of silent astonishment ensued, when the abbot's eye, catching, from their appearance, something of the nature of the documents, he started forward with great eagerness and surprise. He snatched them from the hands of their crack-brained possessor, and soon all other matters were forgotten. The abbot in breathless haste ran through the contents. The assembly was all eye and ear, and some were absolutely paralysed with wonder. There was not an indifferent observer but Dick, who, with a chuckling laugh, rubbed his hands, and fidgeted about in the chair with a look of almost infantile delight.

"I've done it brawly, ha'n't I? Dick wi' the lang neb! an' I'll hae two messes o' parritch an' sour milk, an' a barley-cake; I'm waesome hungry i' the waum here."

The abbot was too deeply involved in the subject before him to heed a craving appetite. Dick's stomach, however, was not to be silenced by diplomatic food; not having tasted anything for a considerable time, his wants immediately assumed the language of inquiry.

"Old dad, ha' ye any bones to pick? I'd like to have a lick at the trencher."

The abbot made signals that he should not be disturbed; but Dick was not to be put off or convinced by such unsubstantial arguments, and they were fain to rid themselves from further annoyance by ordering him into the kitchen, where he was speedily absorbed in devouring a pan of browis, left there for morning use--the breakfast of the labourers about the abbey.

During this interval matters of the deepest importance were discussed, the contents of the packet having furnished abundant materials for deliberation. When the bearer was effectually replenished, he was led into the council-chamber again, where the abbot, in a tone of deep and serious thought, thus addressed him:--

"Who gave thee these despatches? It is plain they were not meant for our eyes; but Heaven, by the weakest instrument, often works the mightiest and most important events. Where and how came they into thy keeping?"

Dick looked cunningly round the apartment ere he replied, surveying the floor, the walls, and the ceiling; even the groinings of the roof did not escape a minute and accurate examination; whether to give time for the contriving of a suitable reply, or merely to gratify his own peevish humour, is of little consequence that we should inquire. After a long and anxious silence on the part of his auditors, he replied--

"I told ye when ye spiered afore." Another pause. The abbot was fearful that Dick's ideas, if not carefully handled, might get so entangled and confused that he would be unable to give any intelligible account of the matter. He therefore addressed him coaxingly as follows--

"Nay, nay, Dickon, thou hast not; answer me now, and thou shalt have the fat from the roast to-morrow, and a sop to season it withal."

Dick leered again at this prospective dainty, as he replied--

"I tou'd ye, and ye heeded not, belike; and who's the fool now? Come, I'll set you my riddle again. If ye set your back to a door, see that it be tyned, or ye may get a broken head, and then"----

Here he paused, and looked round with a vacant eye; but they wisely forbore to interrupt the current of his ideas, hoping that ere long they might trickle into the right channel.

"There was a big room, and a bed in it," he continued, "and a priest, which the fule body has cheated. A fule's wit is worth more nor a wise man's folly."

A vague apprehension of the truth crossed the abbot's mind. Being now on the right scent, he no longer forbore to follow up the chase, but endeavoured to hasten the development by a gentle stimulating of his pace in the required direction.

"The priest yonder at the castle gave it thee?" said the abbot carelessly.

"Well, and if he did," replied Dick sharply, "he didna ken I was a-peeping into his chamber, as I've done many an unlucky time here in the abbey, and gotten a good licking for my pains."

"To whom was it sent?"

"Ask the bairn yon', that I ha' brought by th' scut o' th' neck. He woudna come bout tugging for."

"Was he the messenger?" asked Roger, the abbot's secretary and prime agent.