The Splendid Spur - LightNovelsOnl.com
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'Twas a long room, with a light burning on a square centre table, and around it a ma.s.s of books, loose papers and doc.u.ments strewn, seemingly without order. The floor too was litter'd with them.
Clearly this was the Colonel's office.
I gave a rapid glance around. The lamp's rays scarce illumin'd the far corners; but in one of these stood a great leathern screen, and over the fireplace near it a rack was hanging, full of swords, pistols, and walking canes. Stepping toward it I caught sight of Anthony's sword, suspended there amongst the rest (they had taken it from me on the day of my examination); which now I took down and strapp'd at my side. I then chose out a pistol or two, slipped them into my sash, and advanced to the centre table.
Under the lamplight lay His Majesty's letter, open.
My hand was stretch'd out to catch it up, when I heard across the hall a door open'd, and the sound of men's voices. They were coming toward the office.
There was scarce time to slip back, and hide behind the screen, before the door latch was lifted, and two men enter'd, laughing yet.
"Business, my lord--business," said the first ('twas Colonel Ess.e.x): "I have much to do to-night."
"Sure," the other answer'd, "I thought we had settled it. You are to lend me a thousand out of your garrison--"
"Which, on my own part, I would willingly do. Only I beg you to consider, my lord, that my position here hangs on a thread. The extreme men are already against me: they talk of replacing me by Fiennes--"
"Nat Fiennes is no soldier."
"No: but he's a bigot--a stronger recommendation. Should this plan miscarry, and I lose a thousand men---"
"Heavens alive, man! It _cannot_ miscarry. Hark ye: there's Ruthen of Plymouth will take the south road with all his forces. A day's march behind I shall follow--along roads to northward--parallel for a way, but afterward converging. The Cornishmen are all in Bodmin. We shall come on them with double their number, aye, almost treble. Can you doubt the issue?"
"Scarcely, with the Earl of Stamford for General."
The Earl was too far occupied to notice this compliment.
"'Twill be swift and secret," he said, "as Death himself--and as sure. Let be the fact that Hopton is all at sixes and sevens since the Marquis s.h.i.+pp'd for Wales: and at daggers drawn with Mohun."
Said the Colonel slowly--"Aye, the notion is good enough. Were I not in this corner, I would not think twice. Listen now: only this morning they forc'd me to order a young man's hanging, who might if kept alive be forc'd in time to give us news of value. I dar'd not refuse."
"He that you caught with the King's letter?"
"Aye--a trumpery missive, dealing with naught but summoning of the sheriff's posse and the like. There is more behind, could we but wait to get at it."
"The gallows may loosen his tongue. And how of the girl that was taken too?"
"I have her in safe keeping. This very evening I shall visit her, and make another trial to get some speech. Which puts me in mind--"
The Colonel tinkled a small hand bell that lay on the table.
The pause that followed was broken by the Earl.
"May I see the letter?"
The Colonel handed it, and tinkled the bell again, more impatiently.
At length steps were heard in the hall, and a servant open'd the door.
"Where is Giles?" ask'd the Colonel. "Why are you taking his place?"
"Giles can't be found, your honor."
"Hey?"
"He's a queer oldster, your honor, an' maybe gone to bed wi' his aches and pains."
(I knew pretty well that Giles had done no such thing: but be sure I kept the knowledge safe behind my screen.)
"Then go seek him, and say--No, stop: I can't wait. Order the coach around at the barbican in twenty minutes from now--twenty minutes, mind, without fail. And say--'twill save time--the fellow's to drive me to Mistress Finch's house in St. Thomas' Street--sharp!"
As the man departed on his errand, the Earl laid down His Majesty's letter.
"Hang the fellow," he said, "if they want it: the blame, if any, will be theirs. But, in the name of Heaven, Colonel, don't fail in lending me this thousand men! 'Twill finish the war out of hand."
"I'll do it," answered the Colonel slowly.
"And I'll remember it," said the Earl. "To-morrow, at six o'clock, I set out."
The two men shook hands on their bargain and left the room, shutting the door after them.
I crept forth from behind the screen, my heart thumping on my ribs.
Thus far it had been all fear and trembling with me; but now this was chang'd to a kind of panting joy. 'Twas not that I had spied the prison keys hanging near the fireplace, nor that behind the screen lay a heap of the Colonel's riding boots, whereof a pair, ready spurr'd, fitted me choicely well; but that my ears tingled with news that turn'd my escape to a matter of public welfare: and also that the way to escape lay plann'd in my head.
Shod in the Colonel's boots, I advanc'd again to the table. With sealing-wax and the Governor's seal, that lay handy, I clos'd up the King's letter, and sticking it in my breast, caught down the bunch of keys and made for the door.
The hall was void. I s.n.a.t.c.h'd down a cloak and heavy broad-brimm'd hat from one of the pegs, and donning them, slipp'd back the bolts of the heavy door. It opened without noise. Then, with a last hitch of the cloak, to bring it well about me, I stepp'd forth into the night, shutting the door quietly on my heels.
My feet were on the pavement of the inner ward. Above, one star only broke the blackness of the night. Across the court was a sentry tramping. As I walk'd boldly up, he stopped short by the gate between the wards and regarded me.
Now was my danger. I knew not the right key for the wicket: and if I fumbled, the fellow would detect me for certain. I chose one and drew nearer; the fellow look'd, saluted, stepp'd to the wicket, and open'd it himself.
"Good night, Colonel!"
I did not trust myself to answer: but pa.s.sed rapidly through to the outer ward. Here, to my joy, in the arch'd pa.s.sage of the barbican gate, was the carriage waiting, the porter standing beside the door; and here also, to my dismay, was a torch alight, and under it half a dozen soldiers chatting. A whisper pa.s.s'd on my approach--
"The Colonel!" and they hurried into the guardroom.
"Good evening, Colonel!" The porter bow'd low, holding the door wide.
I pa.s.s'd him rapidly, climb'd into the shadow of the coach, and drew a long breath.
Then ensued a hateful pause, as the great gates were unbarr'd. I gripp'd ray knees for impatience.
The driver spoke a word to the porter, who came round to the coach door again.
"To Mistress Finch's, is it not?"
"Ay," I muttered; "and quickly."
The coachman touched up his pair. The wheels mov'd; went quicker. We were outside the Castle.