Simon Dale
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Anthony Hope >> Simon Dale
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There is little profit, and less entertainment, in the record of my
angry desponding thoughts. Now I lay like a log, again I ranged the cell
as a beast his cage. I cared not a stiver for Buckingham's schemes, I
paid small heed to Nell's jealousy. It was nought to me who should be
the King's next favourite, and although I, with all other honest men,
hated a Popish King, the fear of him would not have kept me from my
sleep or from my supper. Who eats his dinner the less though a kingdom
fall? To take a young man's appetite away, and keep his eyes open o'
nights, needs a nearer touch than that. But I had on me a horror of what
was being done in this place; they sold a lady's honour there, throwing
it in for a make-weight in their bargain. I would have dashed the scales
from their hands, but I was helpless. There is the truth: a man need not
be ashamed for having had a trifle of honesty about him when he was
young. And if my honesty had the backing of something else that I myself
knew not yet, why, for honesty's good safety, God send it such backing
always! Without some such aid, it is too often brought to terms and
sings small in the end.
The evening grew late and darkness had fallen. I turned again to my
supper and contrived to eat and to drink a glass or two of wine.
Suddenly I remembered Jonah Wall, and sent a curse after the negligent
fellow, wherever he might be, determining that next morning he should
take his choice between a drubbing and dismissal. Then I stretched
myself again on the pallet, resolute to see whether a man could will
himself asleep. But I had hardly closed my eyes when I opened them again
and started up, leaning on my elbow. There was somebody in conversation
with my gaoler. The conference was brief.
"Here's the King's order," I heard, in a haughty, careless tone. "Open
the door, fellow, and be quick."
The door was flung open. I sprang to my feet with a bow. The Duke of
Buckingham stood before me, surveying my person (in truth, my state was
very dishevelled) and my quarters with supercilious amusement. There was
one chair, and I set it for him; he sat down, pulling off his
lace-trimmed gloves.
"You are the gentleman I wanted?" he asked.
"I have reason to suppose so, your Grace," I answered.
"Good," said he. "The Duke of Monmouth and I have spoken to the King on
your behalf."
I bowed grateful acknowledgments.
"You are free," he continued, to my joy. "You'll leave the Castle in two
hours," he added, to my consternation. But he appeared to perceive
neither effect of his words. "Those are the King's orders," he ended
composedly.
"But," I cried, "if I leave the Castle how can I fulfil your Grace's
desire?"
"I said those were the King's orders. I have something to add to them.
Here, I have written it down, that you may understand and not forget.
Your lantern there gives a poor light, but your eyes are young. Read
what is written, sir."
I took the paper that he handed me and read:
"In two hours' time be at Canonsgate. The gate will be open. Two serving
men will be there with two horses. A lady will be conducted to the gate
and delivered into your charge. You will ride with her as speedily as
possible to Deal. You will call her your sister, if need arise to speak
of her. Go to the hostelry of the Merry Mariners in Deal, and there
await a gentleman, who will come in the morning and hand you fifty
guineas in gold. Deliver the lady to this gentleman, return immediately
to London, and lie in safe hiding till word reaches you from me."
I read and turned to him in amazement.
"Well," he asked, "isn't it plain enough?"
"The lady I can guess," I answered, "but I pray your Grace to tell me
who is the gentleman."
"What need is there for you to know? Do you think that more than one
will seek you at the Merry Mariners Tavern and pray your acceptance of
fifty guineas?"
"But I should like to know who this one is."
"You'll know when you see him."
"With respect to your Grace, this is not enough to tell me."
"You can't be told more, sir."
"Then I won't go."
He frowned and beat his gloves on his thigh impatiently.
"A gentleman, your Grace," said I, "must be trusted, or he cannot
serve."
He looked round the little cell and asked significantly,
"Is your state such as to entitle you to make conditions?"
"Only if your Grace has need of services which I can give or refuse," I
answered, bowing.
His irritation suddenly vanished, or seemed to vanish. He leant back in
his chair and laughed.
"Yet all the time," said he, "you've guessed the gentleman! Isn't it so?
Come, Mr Dale, we understand one another. This service, if all goes
well, is simple. But if you're interrupted in leaving the Castle, you
must use your sword. Well, if you use your sword and don't prove
victorious, you may be taken. If you're taken it will be best for us all
that you shouldn't know the name of this gentleman, and best for him and
for me that I should not have mentioned it."
The little doubt I had harboured was gone. Buckingham and Monmouth were
hand in hand. Buckingham's object was political, Monmouth was to find
his reward in the prize that I was to rescue from the clutches of M. de
Perrencourt and hand over to him at the hostelry in Deal. If success
attended the attempt, I was to disappear; if it failed, my name and I
were to be the shield and bear the brunt. The reward was fifty guineas,
and perhaps a serviceable gratitude in the minds of two great men,
provided I lived to enjoy the fruit of it.
"You'll accept this task?" asked the Duke.
The task was to thwart M. de Perrencourt and gratify the Duke of
Monmouth. If I refused it, another might accept and accomplish it; if
such a champion failed, M. de Perrencourt would triumph. If I accepted,
I should accept in the fixed intention of playing traitor to one of my
employers. I might serve Buckingham's turn, I should seek to thwart
Monmouth.
"Who pays me fifty guineas?" I asked.
"Faith, I," he answered with a shrug. "Young Monmouth is enough his
father's son to have his pockets always empty."
On this excuse I settled my point of casuistry in an instant.
"Then I'll carry the lady away from the Castle," I cried.
He started, leant forward, and looked hard in my face. "What do you
mean, what do you know?" he asked plainly enough, although silently. But
I had cried out with an appearance of zeal and innocence that baffled
his curiosity, and my guileless expression gave his suspicions no food.
Perhaps, too, he had no wish to enquire. There was little love between
him and Monmouth, for he had been bitterly offended by the honours and
precedence assigned to the Duke; only a momentary coincidence of
interest bound them together in this scheme. If the part that concerned
Buckingham were accomplished, he would not break his heart on account of
the lady not being ready for Monmouth at the hostelry of the Merry
Mariners.
"I think, then, that we understand one another, Mr Dale?" said he,
rising.
"Well enough, your Grace," I answered with a bow, and I rapped on the
door. The gaoler opened it.
"Mr Dale is free to go where he will within the Castle. You can return
to your quarters," said Buckingham.
The soldier marched off. Buckingham turned to me.
"Good fortune in your enterprise," he said. "And I give you joy on your
liberty."
The words were not out of his mouth when a lieutenant and two men
appeared, approaching us at a rapid walk, nay, almost at a run. They
made directly for us, the Duke and I both watching them. The officer's
sword was drawn in his hand, their daggers were fixed in the muzzles of
the soldiers' muskets.
"What's happened now?" asked Buckingham in a whisper.
The answer was not long in coming. The lieutenant halted before us,
crying,
"In the King's name, I arrest you, sir."
"On my soul, you've a habit of being arrested, sir," said the Duke
sharply. "What's the cause this time?"
"I don't know," I answered; and I asked the officer, "On what account,
sir?"
"The King's orders," he answered curtly. "You must come with me at
once." At a sign from him his men took their stand on either side of me.
Verily, my liberty had been short! "I must warn you that we shall stand
at nothing if you try to escape," said the officer sternly.
"I'm not a fool, sir," I answered. "Where are you going to take me?"
"Where my orders direct."
"Come, come," interrupted Buckingham impatiently, "not so much mystery.
You know me? Well, this gentleman is my friend, and I desire to know
where you take him."
"I crave your Grace's pardon, but I must not answer."
"Then I'll follow you and discover," cried the Duke angrily.
"At your Grace's peril," answered the officer firmly. "If you insist, I
must leave one of my men to detain you here. Mr Dale must go alone with
me."
Wrath and wonder were eloquent on the proud Duke's face. In me this new
misadventure bred a species of resignation. I smiled at him, as I said,
"My business with your Grace must wait, it seems."
"Forward, sir," cried the officer, impatiently, and I was marched off at
a round pace, Buckingham not attempting to follow, but turning back in
the direction of the Duke of Monmouth's quarters. The confederates must
seek a new instrument now; if their purpose were to thwart the King's
wishes, they might not find what they wanted again so easily.
I was conducted straight and quickly to the keep, and passed up the
steps that led to the corridor in which the King was lodged. They
hurried me along, and I had time to notice nothing until I came to a
door near the end of the building, on the western side. Here I found
Darrell, apparently on guard, for his sword was drawn and a pistol in
his left hand.
"Here, sir, is Mr Dale," said my conductor.
"Good," answered Darrell briefly. I saw that his face was very pale, and
he accorded me not the least sign of recognition. "Is he armed?" he
asked.
"You see I have no weapons, Mr Darrell," said I stiffly.
"Search him," commanded Darrell, ignoring me utterly.
I grew hot and angry. The soldiers obeyed the order. I fixed my eyes on
Darrell, but he would not meet my gaze; the point of his sword tapped
the floor on which it rested, for his hand was shaking like a leaf.
"There's no weapon on him," announced the officer.
"Very well. Leave him with me, sir, and retire with your men to the foot
of the steps. If you hear a whistle, return as quickly as possible."
The officer bowed, turned about, and departed, followed by his men.
Darrell and I stood facing one another for a moment.
"In hell's name, what's the meaning of this, Darrell?" I cried. "Has
Madame brought the Bastille over with her, and are you made Governor?"
He answered not a word. Keeping his sword still in readiness, he
knocked with the muzzle of his pistol on the door by him. After a moment
it was opened, and a head looked out. The face was Sir Thomas
Clifford's; the door was flung wide, a gesture from Darrell bade me
enter. I stepped in, he followed, and the door was instantly shut close
behind us.
I shall not readily forget the view disclosed to me by the flaring oil
lamps hung in sconces to the ancient smoky walls. I was in a narrow
room, low and not large, scantly furnished with faded richness, and hung
to half its height with mouldering tapestries. The floor was bare, and
uneven from time and use. In the middle of the room was a long table of
polished oak wood; in the centre of it sat the King, on his left was the
Duchess of Orleans, and beyond her the Duke of York; on the King's right
at the end of the table was an empty chair; Clifford moved towards it
now and took his seat; next to him was Arlington, then Colbert de
Croissy, the Special Envoy of the French King. Next to our King was
another empty chair, an arm-chair, like the King's; empty it was, but M.
de Perrencourt leant easily over the back of it, with his eyes fixed on
me. On the table were materials for writing, and a large sheet of paper
faced the King--or M. de Perrencourt; it seemed just between them. There
was nothing else on the table except a bottle of wine and two cups; one
was full to the brim, while the liquor in the other fell short of the
top of the glass by a quarter of an inch. All present were silent; save
M. de Perrencourt, all seemed disturbed; the King's swarthy face
appeared rather pale than swarthy, and his hand rapped nervously on the
table. All this I saw, while Darrell stood rigidly by me, sword in hand.
Madame was the first to speak; her delicate subtle face lit up with
recognition.
"Why, I have spoken with this gentleman," she said in a low voice.
"And I also," said M. de Perrencourt under his breath.
I think he hardly knew that he spoke, for the words seemed the merest
unconscious outcome of his thoughts.
The King raised his hand, as though to impose silence. Madame bowed in
apologetic submission, M. de Perrencourt took no heed of the gesture,
although he did not speak again. A moment later he laid his hand on
Colbert's shoulder and whispered to him. I thought I heard just a
word--it was "Fontelles." Colbert looked up and nodded. M. de
Perrencourt folded his arms on the back of the chair, and his face
resumed its impassivity.
Another moment elapsed before the King spoke. His voice was calm, but
there seemed still to echo in it a trace of some violent emotion newly
passed; a slight smile curved his lips, but there was more malice than
mirth in it.
"Mr Dale," said he, "the gentleman who stands by you once beguiled an
idle minute for me by telling me of a certain strange prophecy made
concerning you which he had, he said, from your own lips, and in which
my name--or at least some King's name--and yours were quaintly coupled.
You know what I refer to?"
I bowed low, wondering what in Heaven's name he would be at. It was, no
doubt, high folly to love Mistress Gwyn, but scarcely high treason.
Besides, had not I repented and forsworn her? Ah, but the second member
of the prophecy? I glanced eagerly at M. de Perrencourt, eagerly at the
paper before the King. There were lines on the paper, but I could not
read them, and M. de Perrencourt's face was fully as baffling.
"If I remember rightly," pursued the King, after listening to a
whispered sentence from his sister, "the prediction foretold that you
should drink of my cup. Is it not so?"
"It was so, Sir, although what your Majesty quotes was the end, not the
beginning of it."
For an instant a smile glimmered on the King's face; it was gone and he
proceeded gravely.
"I am concerned only with that part of it. I love prophecies and I love
to see them fulfilled. You see that cup there, the one that is not quite
full. That cup of wine was poured out for me, the other for my friend M.
de Perrencourt. I pray you, drink of my cup and let the prophecy stand
fulfilled."
In honest truth I began to think that the King had drunk other cups
before and left them not so full. Yet he looked sober enough, and the
rest were grave and mute. What masquerade was this, to bring me under
guard and threat of death to drink a cup of wine? I would have drunk a
dozen of my free will, for the asking.
"Your Majesty desires me to drink that cup of wine?" I asked.
"If you please, sir; the cup that was poured out for me."
"With all my heart," I cried, and, remembering my manners, I added, "and
with most dutiful thanks to Your Majesty for this signal honour."
A stir, hardly to be seen, yet certain, ran round the table. Madame
stretched out a hand towards the cup as though with a sudden impulse to
seize it; the King caught her hand and held it prisoner. M. de
Perrencourt suddenly dragged his chair back and, passing in front of it,
stood close over the table. Colbert looked up at him, but his eyes were
fixed on me, and the Envoy went unnoticed.
"Then come and take it," said the King.
I advanced after a low bow. Darrell, to my fresh wonder, kept pace with
me, and when I reached the table was still at my side. Before I could
move his sword might be through me or the ball from his pistol in my
brains. The strange scene began to intoxicate me, its stirring
suggestion mounting to my head like fumes of wine. I seized the cup and
held it high in my hand. I looked down in the King's face, and thence to
Madame's; to her I bowed low and cried:
"By His Majesty's permission I will drain this cup to the honour of the
fairest and most illustrious Princess, Madame the Duchess of Orleans."
The Duchess half-rose from her seat, crying in a loud whisper, "Not to
me, no, no! I can't have him drink it to me."
The King still held her hand.
"Drink it to me, Mr Dale," said he.
I bowed to him and put the cup to my lips. I was in the act to drink,
when M. de Perrencourt spoke.
"A moment, sir," he said calmly. "Have I the King's permission to tell
Mr Dale a secret concerning this wine?"
The Duke of York looked up with a frown, the King turned to M. de
Perrencourt as if in doubt, the Frenchman met his glance and nodded.
"M. de Perrencourt is our guest," said the King. "He must do as he
will."
M. de Perrencourt, having thus obtained permission (when was his will
denied him?), leant one hand on the table and, bending across towards
me, said in slow, calm, yet impressive tones:
"The King, sir, was wearied with business and parched with talking; of
his goodness he detected in me the same condition. So he bade my good
friend and his good subject Mr Darrell furnish him with a bottle of
wine, and Mr Darrell brought a bottle, saying that the King's cellar
was shut and the cellarman in bed, but praying the King to honour him by
drinking his wine, which was good French wine, such as the King loved
and such as he hoped to put before His Majesty at supper presently. Then
His Majesty asked whence it came, and Mr Darrell answered that he was
indebted for it to his good friend Mr Simon Dale, who would be honoured
by the King's drinking it."
"Why, it's my own wine then!" I cried, smiling now.
"He spoke the truth, did he?" pursued M. de Perrencourt composedly. "It
is your wine, sent by you to Mr Darrell?"
"Even so, sir," I answered. "Mr. Darrell's wine was out, and I sent him
some bottles of wine by his servant."
"You knew for what he needed it?"
I had forgotten for the moment what Robert said, and hesitated in my
answer. M. de Perrencourt looked intently at me.
"I think," said I, "that Robert told me Mr Darrell expected the King to
sup with him."
"He told you that?" he asked sharply.
"Yes, I remember that," said I, now thoroughly bewildered by the history
and the catechism which seemed necessary to an act so simple as drinking
a glass of my own wine.
M. de Perrencourt said nothing more, but his eyes were still set on my
face with a puzzled searching expression. His glance confused me, and I
looked round the table. Often at such moments the merest trifles catch
our attention, and now for the first time I observed that a little of
the wine had been spilt on the polished oak of the table; where it had
fallen the bright surface seemed rusted to dull brown. I noticed the
change, and wondered for an idle second how it came that wine turned a
polished table dull. The thing was driven from my head the next moment
by a brief and harsh order from the King.
"Drink, sir, drink."
Strained with excitement, I started at the order, and slopped some of
the wine from the cup on my hand. I felt a strange burning where it
fell; but again the King cried, "Drink, sir."
I hesitated no more. Recalling my wandering wits and determining to play
my part in the comedy, whatever it might mean, I bowed, cried "God save
your Majesty," and raised the cup to my lips. As it touched them, I saw
Madame hide her eyes with her hand and M. de Perrencourt lean farther
across the table, while a short quick gasp of breath came from where
Darrell stood by my side.
I knew how to take off a bumper of wine. No sippings and swallowings for
me! I laid my tongue well down in the bottom of my mouth that the liquor
might have fair passage to my gullet, and threw my head back as you see
a hen do (in thanks to heaven, they say, though she drinks only water).
Then I tilted the cup, and my mouth was full of the wine. I was
conscious of a taste in it, a strange acrid taste. Why, it was poor
wine, turned sour; it should go back to-morrow; that fool Jonah was a
fool in all things; and I stood disgraced for offering this acrid stuff
to a friend. And he gave it to the King! It was the cruellest chance.
Why----
Suddenly, when I had gulped down but one good mouthful, I saw M. de
Perrencourt lean right across the table. Yet I saw him dimly, for my
eyes seemed to grow glazed and the room to spin round me, the figures at
the table taking strange shapes and weird dim faces, and a singing
sounding in my ears, as though the sea roared there and not on Dover
beach. There was a woman's cry, and a man's arm shot out at me. I felt a
sharp blow on my wrist, the cup was dashed from my hand on to the stone
floor, breaking into ten thousand pieces, while the wine made a puddle
at my feet. I stood there for an instant, struck motionless, glaring
into the face that was opposite to mine. It was M. de Perrencourt's, no
longer calm, but pale and twitching. This was the last thing I saw
clearly. The King and his companions were fused in a shifting mass of
trunks and faces, the walls raced round, the singing of the sea roared
and fretted in my ears. I caught my hand to my brow and staggered; I
could not stand, I heard a clatter as though of a sword falling to the
floor, arms were stretched out to receive me and I sank into them,
hearing a murmur close by me, "Simon, Simon!"
Yet one thing more I heard, before my senses left me--a loud, proud,
imperious voice, the voice that speaks to be obeyed, whose assertion
brooks no contradiction. It rang in my ears where nothing else could
reach them, and even then I knew whence it came. The voice was the voice
of M. de Perrencourt, and it seemed that he spoke to the King of
England.
"Brother," he cried, "by my faith in God, this gentleman is innocent,
and his life is on our heads, if he lose it."
I heard no more. Stupor veiled me round in an impenetrable mist. The
figures vanished, the tumultuous singing ceased. A great silence
encompassed me, and all was gone.
CHAPTER XV
M. DE PERRENCOURT WHISPERS
Slowly the room and the scene came back to me, disengaging themselves
from the darkness which had settled on my eyes, regaining distinctness
and their proper form. I was sitting in a chair, and there were wet
bandages about my head. Those present before were there still, save M.
de Perrencourt, whose place at the table was vacant; the large sheet of
paper and the materials for writing had vanished. There was a fresh
group at the end, next to Arlington; here now sat the Dukes of Monmouth
and Buckingham, carrying on a low conversation with the Secretary. The
King lay back in his chair, frowning and regarding with severe gaze a
man who stood opposite to him, almost where I had been when I drank of
the King's cup. There stood Darrell and the lieutenant of the Guards who
had arrested me, and between them, with clothes torn and muddy, face
scratched and stained with blood, with panting breath and gleaming eyes,
firmly held by either arm, was Phineas Tate the Ranter. They had sent
and caught him then, while I lay unconscious. But what led them to
suspect him?
There was the voice of a man speaking from the other side of this party
of three. I could not see him, for their bodies came between, but I
recognised the tones of Robert, Darrell's servant. It was he, then, who
had put them on Jonah's track, and, in following that, they must have
come on Phineas.
"We found the two together," he was saying, "this man and Mr Dale's
servant who had brought the wine from the town. Both were armed with
pistols and daggers, and seemed ready to meet an attack. In the alley in
front of the house that I have named----"
"Yes, yes, enough of the house," interrupted the King impatiently.
"In the alley there were two horses ready. We attacked the men at once,
the lieutenant and I making for this one here, the two with us striving
to secure Jonah Wall. This man struggled desperately, but seemed
ignorant of how to handle his weapons. Yet he gave us trouble enough,
and we had to use him roughly. At last we had him, but then we found
that Jonah, who fought like a wild cat, had wounded both the soldiers
with his knife, and, although himself wounded, had escaped by the
stairs. Leaving this man with the lieutenant, I rushed down after him,
but one of the horses was gone, and I heard no sound of hoofs. He had
got a start of us, and is well out of Dover by now."
I was straining all my attention to listen, yet my eyes fixed themselves
on Phineas, whose head was thrown back defiantly. Suddenly a voice came
from behind my chair.
"That man must be pursued," said M. de Perrencourt. "Who knows that
there may not be accomplices in this devilish plot? This man has planned
to poison the King; the servant was his confederate. I say, may there
not have been others in the wicked scheme?"
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