The Coming of the King Part 2

THE SECRET OF THE BLACK BOX

I must confess to a somewhat strange feeling in my heart when I looked into the woman's face. I felt sure that she was trying to understand the manner of man I was, so that she might make up her mind how far I could be of service to her. For, from the very first I could not think of her as a former serving woman of my mother. Humble of birth she might be, but I was very sure that her thoughts were other than those of a serving woman, and that she had mixed herself up with affairs of importance. Her great dark searching eyes, her strongly moulded face, her determined mouth all a.s.sured me that here was a woman of far-reaching plans, and one who would stop at nothing to carry those plans into effect.

"More mother than father," I heard her murmur again, and then she looked from my father to me as though she were trying to discover the difference between us.

"Well, Katharine," said my father, "you have discovered what you set your heart upon, and which you spoke of when I saw you in St. Paul's Church."

The woman laughed mockingly.

"In less than a month the king will be in England," she said, "and, oh!

what a king!" and then she fell to scanning our faces again.

"The people be already crying, 'G.o.d save the king!'" said my father.

"Already my old neighbours who fought for Charles I be looking forward to the time when the Puritans will be despoiled like the Egyptians of old, and when they will be rewarded for being faithful to the royalty."

"Rewarded!" said the woman scornfully. "Will the eldest son of Charles I ever reward an honest man? I know him, Master Rashcliffe. He will be the dupe of every knave, the puppet of every hussy in England. He will make promises without end, but he will be too idle to perform them. No honest man will be the better for his return, and no one will have justice unless that justice is forced from him."

"But have you discovered aught?" asked my father. "You know what you promised me. Moreover, when I last saw the dame with whom you had lodgment at the back of Aldersgate Street, she said you had your hand upon the proof."

"And I am not one who makes promises lightly," replied the woman, "neither am I a woman who, having made up her mind, is easily turned aside. Nevertheless, there remaineth much to be done, Master Rashcliffe.

The matter is not child's play, and he who meddles with matters which affect the king is in danger of being accused of treason. For Charles Stuart can act to purpose when it suits him. That is why I have not come to you before."

Here again the woman ceased speaking and scanned me closely.

"This son of yours hath never fought in the wars?" she said questioningly.

"Nay," replied my father. "During the first civil war he was too young to bear arms. After that my heart was embittered. I would not have my son uphold the claims of a man who was alike faithless to both enemies and friends. Then, when Charles was beheaded, could I allow my son to fight under Cromwell?"

"He was a brave, strong man," replied the woman.

"Ay, a brave strong man if you will. But not such a man as my son could fight under. Besides, I would not have him mingle with such a crew as this army fas.h.i.+oned under the New Model. Would I have my son become a psalm-singing hypocrite? Would I have him taught to cry 'down with the Prayer Book'? Would I have him made a sour-faced follower of old Nol, learning to make pious speeches in order to gain promotion? No, I had fought under the king's standard, and, although the king betrayed us all, I would not have my son serve under my Lord Protector.

Nevertheless, Roland is no weakling, as you see, neither is he a fool.

Poor as I have been, I have seen to it that he hath learned something of letters. He can write like a clerk, and can read not only in the English tongue, but in Latin and in French."

"In French?" said the woman eagerly, I thought.

"Ay, in French. Besides without ever having served with the wars, he knows everything of fighting that I could tell him, and as for swordcraft, I doubt if there is a man in London town who could stand against him."

Again the woman looked at me eagerly, and then she broke out like one in anger.

"It is well, Master Rashcliffe, for, mark you, if what I have discovered is true, he will need all his cleverness, all his learning, and all his knowledge of swordcraft. We play for high stakes, Master Rashcliffe--nothing less than the throne of England."

"Ay, I gathered as much," said my father thoughtfully.

"Look you here," went on the woman. "You desire to gain back your estates; you desire, moreover, that your son Roland shall not be a penniless, lackland squire like you. Why, I discovered as I came hither, that for years this manor house hath been little better than a farm kitchen, that such as Nicholas Beel, the blacksmith, who fought for Cromwell, and 'praise be his name, Elijah of the Marsh,' and 'Grace-abounding Reuben,' who used to be one of your hinds, be now fattening on your best farms."

"Ay, it is so," cried my father angrily. "The very kitchen wenches of twenty years ago laugh at me, and call me 'Landless Rashcliffe'."

"And Charles Stuart will never give you back these lands unless he is made," said the woman.

"Ay, ay," said my father, "I know enough of him for that; but to your tale, Katharine Harcomb. Tell me what you know."

"I know that James, the new king's brother, is full of hope that Charles will kill himself by revelry in a year," replied the woman. "I know that he is next heir to the throne. I know that he is intriguing to get back the Catholic religion to the country, and I know that neither Charles nor James loves either you or yours."

"And yet I fought for their father," said my father.

"Ay, and like the honest man thou art, declared that thou couldst never fight for him again after the contents of his papers which were found on Naseby field were made known," retorted the woman. "I know this, too, that if Charles had gained the victory over Cromwell, thou wouldst have been beheaded for what thou didst say at that time. Mark you, a Stuart never forgets, and never forgives, for all the fair promises that they make. Therefore if ever thou dost get back thine own, and if ever thy son is to be more than a mere yeoman ploughing his own fields--ay, and poor fields at that, for the best have all been taken away--he must be able to force the new king's hand."

"Ay, I know all this," replied my father impatiently, "but let us hear what you have discovered, Katharine; let us know the truth concerning the strange things I have heard."

"It is no use telling of what I know, unless this son of thine be bold enough to make use of it," replied the woman. "I am a girl no longer, Master Rashcliffe; I am not so simple as I was in those days when I was waiting maid to Mistress Rashcliffe. Enough to say that I have found out sufficient to make Charles Stuart, who is even now preparing to come back to England as king, eager not only to restore thy lands, but to give a place of honour to Master Roland here. Ay, but that is not all.

The thing which I know to exist must be in our hands, ay, and in our hands in such a way that we shall be able to make our own bargain with the new king."

"But what is it?"

"It is this. James, Duke of York, is not the next heir to the throne."

"Well, and what of that?"

"This," replied the woman. "You have heard of the Welsh girl, Lucy Walters?"

"Ay, I have hear of her."

"And you have heard of her son, a lad who goes by the name of James Croft?"

"Yes," said my father, "I have heard of him; but it doth not matter."

"Ay, but it doth matter."

"Why?"

"Because he, although Charles Stuart will doubtless deny it, is the next heir to the throne of England."

My father started back in amazement.

"He is Charles' son," continued the woman.

"Ay, but----"

"Charles married Lucy Walters--married her in Holland."

"But the proof, the proof!" cried my father.

"It is this proof of which I come to speak," said Katharine Harcomb.

"But answer me this: suppose the proof could be obtained, suppose the box containing the contract of marriage between Charles Stuart and Lucy Walters could be obtained--what then?"

For a time my father was silent. Evidently he regarded the woman's declaration of great import, and I saw that he carefully considered her words.