Swords From the Sea (8 page)

"I say this."

Thorne drew the sword that hung from its sling at his hip and took his station at the entrance.

"My lord, if any man seeks to cross my post unbidden he shall taste steel instead of lead."

"Humph! The young cock can crow. What more?"

The gray eyes of the youngster narrowed and he kept silence. Although the fault had not been his, he could make no explanation. Stratford, an experienced soldier and a martinet, had no reason to make a charge against him. The duke, however, was irritated by the appointment of the Flanders veterans over his own yeomen and the officers of the household.

"What more?" he repeated sharply.

The second question required an answer, and a bleak look overspread the countenance of the armiger, drawing sharp lines about eyes and chin.

"My lord of Stratford, the command of his majesty was heard by your lordship. He bade me put down my weapon and carry him forth."

"Ha! Master Thorne, you have yet to serve your apprenticeship as a bearer-of-arms at court. To gratify the whim of a boy you made naught of your orders. You were placed here not to act a playmate or to seek royal favor, but to guard the life of your prince. What if you had been attacked by yonder canaille? Body of me!"

This time Thorne kept silent. The nobleman's blame was unjust, but there was enough truth in it to make the armiger realize that his offense would be held unpardonable if Stratford chose to press a charge against him. True, he might appeal to the king, who was honorary captain of the guards.

But Edward lay passive on his couch, forgetful of sentinel or nobleman.

Stratford paced the pavilion, hands thrust into his sword-belt, and came to a stop by Thorne. Seeing that Edward was asleep, he said in a whisper:

"When you are relieved, go to your quarters. Abide there without speaking to anybody of what you have seen or heard in this place. A soldier on duty," he added brusquely, "may not give out what has come under his eye on his post. Can you do that?"

It was long after the armiger had left with his companions of the guard, but without his firelock, that the Gypsy drew from beneath the couch where it had been hidden by the deerskin the harquebus that she had stolen.

Unseen by Stratford and unnoticed by the new sentinel, she slipped the short weapon under her ragged mantle and slouched from the pavilion. She had stolen as naturally as a crow picks up something that catches its eye.

The superstition of high noblemen had invoked her to try to save the life of a dying ruler with her simples, and shrewder than they who had called her forth, she fled with what she could snatch before Edward should die.

Meanwhile the three ships had passed out of sight down the Thames, and out of the minds of the courtiers who talked of changes that were to come, and fortunes to be made and lost. But Edward still dwelt upon the glimpse he had had of the voyagers.

Chapter II

The Signior d'Alaber

My Lord of Stratford sat late at table the evening he summoned Ralph Thorne to his quarters and looked long upon the flagon, both Rhenish and Burgundy. He had a hard, gray head for drink. It helped him make decisions, a vexatious necessity of late.

In a long chamber gown he sat at his ease, a pair of barnacles on his nose and a book printed in the new manner from black letters on his knees. My lord had excellent eyesight and did not need the spectacles; and, although he was not scholar enough to read the book, he firmly believed that it was a mistake to be found doing nothing.

"Master Thorne," he greeted the armiger, "there is a saying- Quis cus- todiat ipsos custodies? Who shall watch the watchmen themselves?"

He put aside the volume and cleared his throat.

"I have been at some pains to learn who you are."

Thorne bowed acknowledgment in silence. He had no patron at court, and the duke was powerful. He had entered upon his duties in the guards with high hopes. In the camps over the sea the name and character of the boy king had aroused the loyalty of the lads who were beginning their military service in the petty wars of the lowlands, and they had waited anxiously for the time when they could appear at their own court.

Now, lacking anyone to take his part and with Edward unapproachable, a word from Stratford could disgrace him or restore him to honest service.

"Your father, sirrah, is Master Robert Thorne, who once rendered yeoman aid to his country by bringing out of Spain a mappamundi*
faithfully drawn. He is known as the Cosmographer, and he dwells on the coast at Orfordnesse."

Again the squire bowed assent.

"You have a reputation. 'Tis said you use a sword like a fiend out of , which is to say with skill but little forethought. You have been in more broils than any dozen of your fellows. Once, I hear, you presumed to go forth alone in the guise of a wherryman. So habited, you ventured rashly to row armed men across a river within the hostile camp."

"My lord, we had need of information."

"So it was said. But you forgot your part of a spy and fought a knight of the Burgundian party in the skiff. The matter ended with your placing the Burgundian adrift, fully armed as he was, a nosegay in his hands and candles lighted at his head. In this guise he was discovered by his friends, who buried the body."

"'Twas fairly fought between us, my lord, in the boat. He had the worst. It would have been foul shame to throw an honorable foeman into the water."

The man at the table paused to snuff the candles that stood on either hand and to glance curiously at the youth, his visitor. To draw steel on an adversary in full armor in a small skiff was a thing seldom done, and Thorne had not despoiled the body.

"Stap my vitals!" he laughed. "You have a queer head on you. Now thank Sts. Matthew and Mark and your patron of that fellowship that it has pleased Edward to stand your friend."

Thorne flushed with pleasure and strode forward to the table.

"Grant me but the chance to serve the king's majesty!"

"Humph! As a spy you are not worth your salt. But the king is minded to send you upon a mission."

He glanced upward fleetingly and saw only eagerness in the boy's clear eyes.

"You have learned to handle your sword, but not to handle men. You will want seasoning. The king is pleased to lay command upon you to journey to Orfordnesse and there await the setting out of Sir Hugh's fleet. Do aught that within you lies to aid Sir Hugh in his venture. Your prince hath the matter much at heart.

"Take a horse from my stables, and here-" Stratford signed to one of his servitors who stood by the buffet-"is a small purse for your needs."

Thorne, who had not one silver piece to jingle against another, accepted the gift with a bow.

Stratford hesitated, then rose and came around the table.

"Hark in your ear, young sir. The Spaniards who hold the sea would be well pleased to spoil this venture of Sir Hugh's. Watch your fellow travelers well upon the road and keep your sword loosened in scabbard. Be silent as to this mission, and hasten not back, but return at leisure with Master Cabot. Greet your father well for me."

"A good night to you, my lord. And accept the thanks of the Thornes."

Stratford smiled.

"Body o' me! 'Tis said the Thornes are more generous with blows than thanks. A good night, young sir."

He waited until the armiger had left the room, then went to the door and, closing it, shot home the bolt himself. Idly he turned the hourglass in which the sands had run out.

"Another hour brings other guests. Well, 'tis an easy road to a boy's heart to promise him danger i' the wind. Paul-" he nodded at the ser- vant-"have in D'Alaber and his cozening friend. And," he added under his breath, "may your sainted namesake grant that young Thorne's wit be dull as his sword point is sharp."

The two men who entered the cabinet of my lord Duke of Stratford were dressed in the height of fashion, and one, who wore a doublet of green silk, who bore in his left hand a high-crowned and plumed hat, bowed with all the grace of an accomplished courtier, his cloak draped over the end of a long Spanish rapier. He had the small features of a woman, utterly devoid of color.

"Ah, signior," exclaimed Stratford as soon as the door closed upon Paul, "you are behind your time. I have been awaiting your ship this se'nnight."

"From the secrecy with which I am received," responded the young D'Alaber in excellent English, "it would seem that I am before my time."

And, turning his back rudely on his host, he walked up to a long Venetian mirror, fingering the ruff at his throat.

"Is the Fox in London, my lord?" he demanded, turning sharply on Stratford, his sleepy eyes downcast yet missing no shade of expression in the nobleman.

"Renard has taken coach to Orfordnesse."

"And why?"

"Signior," said Stratford slowly, and more respectfully than the younger man of lesser rank had addressed him, "who knows? Perhaps the Fox prefers not to be in London when-if-"

"Edward dies," amended the Spaniard coolly.

The duke started and glanced uneasily at the closed door. Then he poured out with his own hand a measure of Burgundy into a gold goblet on the table. This he offered to D'Alaber, who glanced at it quizzically and waited until he was certain that his host would drink from the same flagon.

"To the happy alliance between our two peoples!" cried Stratford, gulping down his wine. "Nay, do you fancy the goblet, D'Alaber? Then, I pray you, keep the thing."

The Spaniard turned it in his fingers indifferently and handed it to the other man, who made less ado about thrusting it into the breast of his robe, first weighing it in his great fist covetously.

He wore the dull damask of a merchant, yet his sword with its inlaid hilt was costly. He stood utterly still-and few men do that-looking down from his looming height on the two noblemen as if he were the solitary spectator of a rare play.

And, in reality, he was attending upon a discussion only too common in these eventful days, wherein the fate of England rested in the balance. While Cornelius Durforth and D'Alaber sat on either hand, Stratford talked feverishly, giving the Spaniard the tidings of what was passing in the court, and at the same time justifying himself.

Edward was dying. Stratford and certain other officers of the royal household had contrived to keep this secret until now. And secrecy they must have to gain time to raise their liegemen on land and sea and discover who was of their party.

Stratford and the Papists of the kingdom supported Lady Mary, the elder sister of the king. She was daughter of Catharine of Aragon, the first wife of the late king, Henry the Eighth.

Others of the Protestant nobles favored the Lady Jane Grey, or the young Princess Elizabeth. But Elizabeth had inherited her father's love of hawking and the chase and carelessness of affairs of state. Meanwhile, Parliament, ignorant of the true condition of the king, did nothing. A few weeks, and the Papist nobles near London would have enough swords to cut down all opposition to Lady Mary.

"And the king?" D'Alaber asked thoughtfully. "No one suspects his evil case?"

"No one," nodded the duke, "save-"

"Ah. It was your part, my lord duke, to draw a veil around his sinking."

The Spaniard spoke courteously, but his words were like dagger pricks.

"A chuckle-headed squire-a niddering-a nobody overheard Edward make lament that his time was drawing to an end."

"And you?"

"I sent the youth on a bootless errand to Orfordnesse, saying that it was Edward's will. Nay, he will not set foot in London again till all is over."

"And there you blundered, my lord. Only one physic will keep a tongue from wagging. His name and time of setting forth?"

"The lad is Master Thorne of Orfordnesse. On the morrow at dawn he hies him hence."

"Then-" D'Alaber tapped a lean finger on the hilt of his poniard and glanced at Durforth, whose eyes, so dark that they appeared to be without expression, were fixed on him reflectively-"we must try phlebotomy, a trifle of blood letting. And now, messers, I deliver me of my charge."

Unfastening one of the laces of his doublet, he drew out two papers folded and sealed with the royal signet of Spain. These he handed to Durforth, who looked at the seal and thrust them into his wallet. Stratford seemed afire with curiosity as to the nature of these papers, but D'Alaber vouchsafed him no satisfaction. Durforth, however, spoke up, twisting powerful fingers in his black beard.

"My lord duke, you are now one of us; you must run with the hounds now, not with the hare. In your presence I have received from his august majesty, Charles, Emperor of Spain, a letter of commission. The other missive I understand to be a matter of state to be delivered when the voyage hath achieved its end."

The duke filled his goblet moodily, chafing inwardly at the insolence of the Spaniard. He could not do without their aid, but he found that their countryman Renard, advisor to Princess Mary, was taking the leadership from him. Stratford knew there was in England at that time a man who was called the Fox by those who had dealings with him; who had caused to be slain secretly some of the nobles who opposed Mary. And he suspected that this Fox was Renard the philosopher.

Stratford knew that another conspiracy was in the wind. Durforth, who had in past years been a merchant of Flanders and the North Sea, had been seen in company with Renard. Durforth, alone of the navigators, knew the coast of Norway. So he had been chosen by the council of Cabot's merchant-adventurers to go with Sir Hugh Willoughby as master of one of the three ships.

Of traffic and discoveries my lord of Stratford recked little. He wondered fleetingly why D'Alaber and Renard set such importance on the voyage of Sir Hugh. He had spoken truly to Ralph Thorne when he declared that the Spaniards would like to make an end of Sir Hugh and his ships. And why were they giving letters to Durforth to bear upon this voyage?

Aloud he said to the merchant-

"Your dallying here hath aroused no suspicion?"

"Not a jot," responded Durforth with his usual bluntness, "thanks to gaffer Cabot. The old cockatrice was afire to sail with Sir Hugh as far as Orfordnesse. So I yielded my place to him and will strike across the country to that haven with D'Alaber."