Book 2 — Chapter XVI

How My Lord Stenwold settled his Account and paid his Debt in full

Stenwold House stood on the bank of the river, about half-way between Monkwearmouth town and the lighthouse on the point that jutted out seaward far beyond. It was some distance from the outskirts of the village, and I noted, as we galloped along, that the surrounding country was lonesome and desolate.

I had at first intended to take Macleod into the castle with me, but a better thought came to me as we rode. Long before we reached the house I drew rein and, to Macleod's great and overwhelming disappointment, I outlined exactly what I wished him to do.

"Upon second thoughts," I said, "I will not take you with me further. Do you go back to the village and get a boat, a wherry that two of us can row and yet one that you can manage yourself on a pinch, and bring it to the river-bank under the walls of the castle yonder."

"But Lord Stenwold, sir," protested the worthy Scotsman, who evidently would fain play a bolder part.

"I'll take care of him," I replied.

"I would like it well," persisted my attendant stoutly, "if I could take the payment for that kiss myself."

"Do not fear, man," said I, "I'll take payment for us both, and, unless I blunder strangely, he will never live to kiss another woman after this night. You could not do any special good with me in the castle. The two of us could not take the place by force, and, for strategy, one is as good as two or a thousand—ay, better. You can serve us all, and your revenge, best by providing the means of escape. I am like to need it both sorely and quickly to-night."

"Yonder's our ship, sir," he said, silenced by my emphasis.

"Yes, I have marked her."

We both stared seaward at the lights. I was sorry that I had not arranged some method of signalling the Earl, but none that I could have thought of would have been practicable and, indeed, any attempt at it would infallibly have betrayed us.

"Am I to rent, borrow, or steal a boat, your honour?" asked Macleod, appreciating the fact that my decision, which was only common-sense, was unalterable.

"You are to be here within the hour with the boat. I care not how you get it. That's your own lookout, but get it. Don't fail me; remember your wife is on that ship; and it might be convenient for you to bear in mind that Lord Jeffreys has had ample opportunity to familiarise himself with your face and figure as well as with mine, and I would not give a penny for your life if you are in England when he gets loose."

"I shall be there within an hour," answered the Scotsman stoutly. "This horse, sir?"

"You can't take him aboard ship," I replied; "you must leave him behind."

"Very good, sir." He half-wheeled his horse and then stopped. "You are going on a desperate venture for your wife," said he; "if a poor man might be so bold..."

His hand went out toward me rather tentatively in the darkness. I waived the difference in rank at once—for that matter, I have ever been willing to shake hands with honest men, even those of low degree.

"Good luck and God bless you, sir," he said earnestly.

"Thank you," said I. "Don't fail me," I repeated again.

"I will meet your honour in an hour, yonder," he replied.

With that he put spurs to his horse and galloped away. Now what was I to do? It was evident that it might be difficult to get entrance to Stenwold House, and more difficult to get access to the King. I did not want to play my trump card, Lord Jeffreys' note, until the last moment. Yet, what could I do without it?

If I had time, I might perhaps have managed to scale the walls in some way and effect an entrance by stealth, but I had no time. Too much had been wasted as it was. I judged it to be about eight o'clock. I was morally certain that I would be in good time, but I did not dare to tempt Fortune too long and too much.

I knew that King James would at first try cajolery and persuasion—that was his usual method; not until they failed would he try bribery, being a niggardly monarch, and only in the last instance would he resort to force. I could picture accurately what was about to happen, the course of affairs was clear to me, but to effect anything I must get in the castle, and boldness was my only resource.

It was fortunate for me that the King had chosen to lie at Stenwold House instead of the Castle at Sunderland, across the river. It would have been difficult, if not impossible, to have effected my purpose had he been there. Here it was easier. At most he would be surrounded by but few of his guards; perhaps he would be depending entirely upon Stenwold's retainers for protection. The King was not more bold in his debaucheries and abductions than he was on the field of battle or anywhere else, and it may be that some lingering sense of shame might cause him to conduct his disgraceful amour in secret when he could do it.

I did not stand still in the road making these reflections; on the contrary, they came to me as I galloped swiftly toward the house.

The castle was an old one, built God knows how many centuries before and added to from time to time. The rambling walls were surrounded by a moat now gone dry, which was crossed by a drawbridge never raised. I thundered up to the gate at full speed, flung myself from my horse, knowing full well he was tired and would stand until doomsday, unless driven away, in case I needed him again. And, with the hilt of my sword, I knocked heavily upon the panel of the great door.

A wicket-gate at the side was instantly opened and a man in the uniform of the King's Guards peered through. Light was shed upon us from a flaming cresset hanging over the arch of the main door; by it I saw him plainly and recognised him, too. His name was Harkins; he was a sergeant, an old comrade and friend who had been in my own company of the Royal Guards. The recognition was mutual, but, before he could speak, I interrupted him.

"Sergeant," said I, "you don't know me, you have never seen me before, understand?"

"N-n-no, sir," was the astonished answer.

"Well, these are facts; get them in your mind," I insisted sharply.

"Very good, sir," he answered slowly, beginning to comprehend, "I don't know your honour, I have never seen you before."

"That's it; you will be glad you did not recognise me to-morrow."

The sergeant nodded, he was not a stupid man. and he began to see the reason for my strange course.

"And now," said I, "I am a messenger from my Lord Chief Justice, a private messenger, who must see the King instantly. Lord Jeffreys is now at the point of death, his life's in the greatest danger."

"But, your honour," stammered the sergeant, "it will be impossible to see the King to-night. He's got a woman with him, and Lord Stenwold himself keeps everybody from him."

"That woman is my wife," said I grimly,

"Good God, sir!" exclaimed the sergeant. "What do you want me to do?"

"First of all, admit me; then take me to the Officer of the Guard—who is he? Do I know him?"

"No, sir, it is Leftenant Brayford; he's a new officer, your honour, and he is at play with Ensign Scarlett in his quarters off the guard-room. They are drinking too, sir."

"Good," said I. "That leaves you in virtual command of the guard?"

"It does."

"Go to Mr. Brayford, and tell him that an urgent messenger from Lord Chief Justice Jeffreys desires to see Lord Stenwold on a most serious business, and contrive that you shall be the one to conduct me to him."

"I think that will be easy, sir," said the sergeant, closing the wicket and marching off.

It was fortunate that I had found old Harkins at the gate; the man had been devoted to me and was as faithful as the day was long. Whether his devotion to me would overcome his duty to the King was a thing I could not decide, and I stood there, leaning against the rough stones of the wall, a prey to the intensest agonies of apprehension I had ever experienced, lest I should be denied entrance and stopped helplessly at the very beginning of the undertaking on which so much depended. My relief was correspondingly great when the door opened and honest old Harkins appeared again.

"I am to conduct you to Lord Stenwold, by orders from Leftenant Brayford, who, with Mr. Scarlett, is well in liquor now, sir," said the old soldier.

"This will cost young Brayford his commission, mayhap his head, I fear me," said I under my breath.

"And me mine, as well it may be, Sir Hugh," answered Harkins simply, but making no pause on that account.

"Man," said I earnestly, "I am off for the Low Countries to-night with my wife, if all goes well. There is plenty of soldiering and good pay there. We have served together for many years; come with me."

"That will I gladly if you will take me, Sir Hugh," answered Harkins earnestly, and evidently pleased.

"Good; if you serve me well in my great need this night, I promise you shall never have cause to regret it."

"What do you propose to do, sir, if I may make bold to ask?"

"To take my wife from the King, even if I have to kill him."

"Good God, sir, I hope it won't need to come to that!"

"It is not likely," said I contemptuously. "The King will give way before he dies."

"Yes, sir," answered the old man thoughtfully. "He ain't the bravest King on earth."

"No, but we waste time."

"Very good; come this way, sir."

I muffled my face in my cloak and disguised my walk so that none of the men on guard or lounging in the courtyard, waiting for their tour of duty to begin, would by any chance recognise me. The sergeant made his way quickly across the courtyard and entered the main building, with me hard at his heels. We proceeded down a large hall, up a long flight of steps, and into a vast apartment, at the further end of which and before a door a soldier stood guard. We marched straight up to him.

"Is Lord Stenwold within?" asked the sergeant in a low voice as the man saluted him.

"Yes, sir," was the whispered reply, "and he hath left strict order that no one is to disturb him on any account."

"There is a messenger here from the Lord Chief Justice Jeffreys," returned Harkins quickly, "who must see the King on a matter of life and death. He must have access to Lord Stenwold; when I have turned him over to my lord my responsibility ceases."

"But, sergeant..." began the man, unwilling either to disobey Lord Stenwold's order or too obstinately to resist his sergeant.

"Enough," said old Harkins peremptorily. "You will take your orders from me; I will relieve you at this door and guard it myself; you go to the further end of the hall, station yourself outside yonder door, and keep out anybody and everybody at every hazard till you are relieved."

"Orders are orders," said the soldier resignedly, "but the responsibility will be yours."

"It is mine," assented Harkins.

The man shouldered his halbert and marched down to take the post designated—outside the entrance door, through which we had come, at the far end of the hall. It had all been cleverly thought out by the sergeant. I had not given him credit for such shrewdness. Whatever happened behind that closed door that gave entrance to my Lord Stenwold's retreat would have few auditors and all but one as far away as possible. I thanked him with word and look.

"Now, your honour," said he, "it rests with you. I will keep this door as long as I can; I will give it up to no one, unless the Leftenant or the Ensign should make their rounds. I don't think that likely, but the guards will be relieved at ten and you have but a short time at your disposal."

"I do not want much time," I replied. "No matter what you hear, keep fast by the door, unless I call you. I'll soon be back, successful, or I'll be dead, in which case remember you do not know me."

"Very good, sir, and God help us all."

"Amen," said I.

The hurried conversation had been carried on in low whispers, so as to give no possible alarm. I laid my hand upon the door. Fortunately it was unlocked, and gave under my gentle pressure. What had Stenwold to fear, and why should he lock himself in? All the doors in Stenwold House were secret and noiseless, especially those in my lord's private apartments. This one opened without a sound, and, with a stealthy motion that would not attract attention, I stepped noiselessly into the room.

This apartment was smaller than the other, which had been possibly designed for a refectory in days gone by, and was evidently a library. It looked toward the sea. Heavy hangings draped the windows, a thick carpet lay on the floor. The place was richly furnished and brightly lighted from many candles in sconces and hanging lustres of candelabra. In the centre of the room, by the side of a small table, reclined Lord Stenwold, in somewhat negligent disarray, in a large and comfortable chair. On the table were bottles and glasses and the remains of a meal. Lord Stenwold had evidently just finished his repast. He was engaged in the pleasant act of leaning back in his chair and yawning, stretching out his hands the while. His back was toward the door and nothing had as yet apprised him of my presence. I slipped my sword out of the scabbard as gently as possible. I thought I made no sound, but evidently I did, for he was on his feet in a minute and facing me.

"Richmond!" he gasped, in a low, strained voice, evidently not caring or daring to arouse the King or the house. "Good God!"

His hand reached for his own sword, lying on a stool by his chair. I could have spitted him then and there without risk or trouble, but it was ever against my principles to attack an unarmed man, and I let him seize his weapon. I said in a voice low to match his own, but full of vengeance and hate:

"You vile pander, you have come to the end of your tether now."

Stenwold menaced me with his point and then sneered.

"Why, you fool," he exclaimed, "this is my house! I have but to call out and the King's Guard will be on you in a moment. To-night His Majesty would be private yonder with a lady. I would not have him disturbed. Yield you at once. If the lady be in a melting mood, as I doubt not, sweet remembrances of their pleasant love passages may incline the King to clemency in the morning when you sue."

I needed nothing more, but, if I had, that last mordant insinuation would have been enough. I advanced on him with such fury, forgetful of everything, that he opened his mouth to cry out in his alarm; ere he could do it, I whipped out a small pistol of French make, which I carried ever in my pocket, and held it toward him in my left hand.

"You know," said I, "that I am a dead shot with either hand, and I swear to God that I will put a bullet through your black heart if you make a sound, if I am to be torn to pieces the next second."

"You have an advantage over me," said Stenwold coolly. He had recovered himself and seemed a little ashamed of his lapse. "I have naught but my sword."

To do him justice, the villain was brave enough, I knew; yet, as he said, he was armed only with his sword.

"I don't intend to use the advantage," I replied, "unless you force me to it. If you will agree to stand up and fight like a man and in silence, you shall have your chance."

"Done!" said the man quickly. "My word of honour against yours, that whichever of us dies does it silently."

I laid the pistol on the table on the instant.

"There's my answer. Now, on guard!"

It was no light task I had before me. Stenwold was one of the best fencers in the King's realm; he and I had enjoyed friendly bouts many times, although I never liked him, and more often than not he had bested me, although I was counted something of a master of the white weapon myself. In a scientific engagement he was pretty certain to get the better of me, but this was guerre à outrance, and at that sort of a game I felt I would be his master. Neither did I intend to delay matters, nor did I desire to fill the room with noise of ringing steel.

We fell easily into position; he made the first lunge at me, as I knew he would. Contrary to the rules of fencing, I parried it with my left arm, his point grazing through the flesh between my elbow and shoulder, as I expected. Heedless of the pain, with that I closed with him to his great surprise, and, before he could disengage or divine what I would be at, I shortened my sword and drove it home, through his heart.

It was quickly done and soon over. He reeled and threw up his hands; I dropped my own blade to the carpet, which luckily prevented noise; caught him in my arms and eased him down. He was stone dead by the time I laid him on the floor.

I will admit that I felt no remorse whatever. The last taunt about my lady had maddened me. I had killed him with as little compunction as if he had been a rat, which indeed he was. Drawing his blade from my sleeve, I laid it across his breast. Resuming my own sword, I stepped to the piece of tapestry over the door which he had pointed out to me, behind which I knew I should find the King and my wife.