CHAPTER XV
MICHAEL AND CATESBY
Though Harleston and I were both anxious to go at once unto the Sanctuary, and see the girls, yet my friend, who thought it might arouse suspicion were we to be seen there by the Cardinal and the Bishop, persuaded me to wait until the following day. "For," said he, "I do believe that fellow Catesby already suspects us of being in some way connected with the Queen's flight. Methinks 'twas in reference to that he whispered to Hastings, and which caused Lord William to look on us so unpleasantly."
"I believe that thou art right," I replied.
We were sitting in my room when this conversation took place. Just then a knock came at the door. I feared that we might have been overheard, so I thought the best plan should be to open, without any show of mystery. I therefore called out, without changing my position:—"Come in!" I scarcely know what I expected to see when the door should open; yet methinks I had not been surprised had it been either Lord Hastings himself, or a body of yeomen sent to arrest me. Remember, my dears, after the example I had seen as we were entering Stony Stratford my mind was in a fit state to expect something of this kind. It was with a sigh of relief, therefore, that I did recognize mine Irish messenger, which had so well fulfilled his mission. The enormous fellow completely filled the door, as he stood upon the threshold, cap in hand, awaiting a further command ere he did enter.
"Ah! Michael, it is thou."
"Divil anither," he replied, without moving a muscle.
I smiled at his serious humour, and asked him to enter and close the door; for I knew from his manner that he had something to communicate. "And now, Michael, I must thank thee for the speedy way in which thou didst fulfil thy mission."
"Uh! yer honour, it's no thanks Oi desarve fer doin' moy dooty," and he shifted from one foot to the other and struck his boot with his cap, as though my thanks but made him to feel uneasy. With all his giant strength he was at heart but a great boy.
"But what is now thy business with me? If there be aught that I can do for thee thou hast but to ask and it is done, Michael."
"No, yer honour, it is not that," he replied. "Oi came but to till thee, sor, that thoine armour—which was rusted some—hath bin clained and is now ridy fer wear," said he, quickly, as he eyed Harleston closely.
"What in the devil's name art thou talking about? Why, I have no armour that is rusted."
"No, not now, sor," said he, with that same serene face. When he had finished this, however, and saw Harleston's head thrown back, as my friend stared at the ceiling, in an effort to refrain from laughing, Michael raised his eyebrows, and jerked his head in Frederick's direction.
"Ah! so that is the difficulty," said I, laughing. "'Tis my friend thou fearest. Ah, Michael, I am proud of thy discretion," I continued, as I walked over to where he stood, and slapped him on that shoulder which stood out like a block of iron draped with cloth. And indeed one might as well have struck a piece of steel as that shoulder with its shirt of mail beneath the rough coarse jacket. "However, thou needst not fear to speak out boldly before Sir Frederick, as I have no secret that is unknown to him."
"In that case, sor, Oi must pray thoy pardon," said he, speaking to Harleston; "but in these toimes, whin great min, as will as the common folk, turn out to be divils it be moighty hard to pick out the honest soul."
"Indeed thou art right, Michael, and it shall be well for thee to continue to trust but those that thou knowest full well to be true and honest men," said my friend, which admired this frank admission of suspicion. "Thou art an honest fellow, and I like thee well; but be careful of this," he continued,—"be sure that thou dost practise thine honesty with great caution. Honesty, now-a-days, seems to be the shortest road to the block; unless thou art cautious enough to be honestly dishonest."
"Oi understand not thoy wourds," said Michael, as he scratched his head, with a puzzled look; but for a moment only. "Uh!" said he, "Oi think that Oi have a hould on what yer honour manes, and Oi'll profit by yer advice, sor."
"But come," said I, "What is it that thou wishest to tell me? For well do I know that story about mine armour to be but a disguise."
"In faith it was, sor, and Oi now craves yer pardon fer the tillin' of a loie to yer honour."
"It had been granted ere thou didst ask. Come, to thy news."
"Will, sor, it was jist after Oi had delivered thoy missage, and was walkin' along the hall on moy way to look after moy horse, which was sore toired, that Oi mit his honour, Sor William Catesby. As Oi took off moy cap to him, he stops me, and sez he:—'Whare didst thou come from?'
"'From Oireland, yer honour,' sez Oi. This Oi said that Oi moight have toime to git a good loie through moy thick skull.
"'Thou needst not have tould me that,' sez he, and he began to laugh, though fer the loife o' me Oi know not yit what so playzed him."
I glanced at Harleston. His head was thrown back in his chair, as was his habit whilst sitting and listening to anything that interested him. I could see by his amused smile that he was not surprised at Catesby's laughter. No more was I.
"What said you then?" asked I, as I saw Michael looking at me in surprise. No doubt he was wondering what I saw to so amuse me.
"Uh! thin Oi said:—'But yer honour axed me, so Oi had to till thee.'
"'Oi mint not whare wast thou born, but whare hast thou come from jist now?' sez he.
"'Uh! yer honour manes whare am Oi jist after lavin', this minit?' sez Oi.
"Thin he nodded, and still kipt on a smoilin'.
"'Bad luck to me fer a stoopid clown,' sez Oi. 'Oi moight have known what yer honour mint, without kapin' ye standin, explainin' the houle o' this toime.'
"Now all this whoile, sor, Oi was warein' out what little brains the good Lord gave me (and Oi think he moight have bin moure liberal or ilse kape me out o' the way o' sich confusin' quistions) to troy and foind a somethin' raisonable excuse fer bein' thare. At last Oi saw that Oi had gained all the toime that moight be, without makin' him angry, so Oi said the first thing that came to moy tongue.
"'Uh! sor,' sez Oi, 'some wan's stray dawg came in at the oupen door, so Oi came after to troy and put the baste out.'
"'Thou lookest strangely besmeared with mud. Didst thou git that with chasin' of the dawg?' sez he, and he oyed me loike the divil.
"'Uh! sure, yer honour, Oi was jist a gittin off o' moy horse whin Oi saw the baste inter,' sez Oi.
"'And whare moight you have bin on thoy horse?' sez he.
"'Whoy, upon his back, sor,' sez Oi.
"'Nay, nay,' sez he, 'Oi mane from whare didst thou roide to-day, fer from thoy looks thou hast bin beyond the city gates?'
"'Yis, yer honour,' sez Oi, 'thou hast found me out; but Oi pray thee do not report me to moy master, whin he returns.'
"'And who is thoy master?' sez he.
"'Sor Walter Bradley, and it playze yer honour,' sez Oi.
"Now methought, sor, that this would put him off the scint; fer by the close way he quistioned me Oi filt sure he must be on it. But whin Oi mintioned thoy name, sor, he wint into a divil of a timper, indade he did, yer honour. And thin he turned on me and called me sich avil names as made it hard fer me to hould back moy hand from brakin' the head o' the spalpeen; fer indade, sor, he is no gintlemin, with all his foine airs, and knoight though he be."
"And what said he of me?" I asked. "Surely he had a bad word for me."
"Uh! yer honour, Oi would not repate his insults fer the wourld. Indade its ashamed o' moysilf Oi am fer not crackin' his skull with moy fist, fer what he said o' thee. The raison Oi did not, was because Oi feared to do it without thoine order. Do but say the wourd and he is a corpse, sor."
"No, do the knave no harm, Michael; for it should but cause thy death. Indeed thou art right, he is a disgrace to knighthood; still, he is a friend of my Lord Hastings, whose vengeance would fall on thee."
"Sure methinks his lordship should thank me fer riddin' him o' sich a noosance," said Michael, with a shrug of his shoulders which clearly showed his contempt for Catesby.
"But did he question thee any further?" I asked.
"Did he quistion me anny further, yer honour? Hivins, sor! Oi should think he did that same," said Michael with a force that left no room for doubt in my mind.
"'Uh!' sez he, whin he had stopped his foul talk about thee, sor; 'Oi belave thou hast jist ridden from Northampton, thou villain,' sez he; as though he had anny roight to call an honest man a villain, But thin, mayhap he gits other folks mixed up with hissilf, whin he gits excoited loike," added Michael with prodigious solemness.
I was compelled to laugh, despite the anxiety I felt about this matter.
"'Northampton?' sez Oi, in surprise loike, as though Oi had nivir heard o' sich a place.
"'Didst thou not roide from Ludlow to Northampton with the King?" sez he.
"'From whare, sor?' sez Oi.
"'From Ludlow, thou stoopid varlet,' sez he; and he raised his hand as though he filt loike hittin' me a blow on the ear.
"'Uh! yer honour,' sez Oi, 'it's makin' sport o' poor common souldier thou art doin'. Hivin knows, sor, whare that place ye spake o' may be; but fer moy part, yer honour, Oi nivir heard o' it afore.'
"'Oi know not what to make o' thee,' sez he, after he had stood a starin' at me whoilst a man moight brathe about the quarter o' a score o' toimes.
"'Mither-o'-Gawd!' sez Oi, a prayin' loike, 'dount lit him make me into anny thing loike hissilf.'"
This was too much for Harleston. He lay doubled up in his chair like a wizzled leaf in the fall of the year, and shaking as though the leaf he resembled was an aspen. He made no sound, but I could see it was all that he could do to refrain from bursting forth into one roar.
"Go on, Michael," said I, when I had somewhat recovered myself; for I too was bursting with pent up laughter, "What did he then say?"
"Uh! sure sor, he saw that Oi was but a poor fool, and that he could not git anny news out o' me, so he shrugged his shoulders loike a damned Frinchmin and walked on. But still he kipt alookin' back as though he didn't know whither to belave me or not."
"Ah, Michael, thou art indeed a true soldier and a faithful servant. From this time forth I do desire thee to attend me as my squire. In field of battle, or in the lists, do thou attend me; for well do I know that a truer heart or a stronger arm in England there is not."
"Thou art right, Bradley," said Harleston, with a hearty warmth, "and hadst thou not made this man the offer that thou hast just made I would have asked him to serve me."
Poor Michael stood speechless before us. First would he look at me, and then to my friend. He could not speak his thanks in words; but he did it with such an eloquence by his looks as had been more than sufficient, even had I done him the greatest favour in my power. But I believe to this day that I could not have better pleased him had I been the King and made him my Lord High Chancellor.
"But, sor," said Michael, when he had somewhat recovered himself, and knelt and, despite mine efforts to prevent him, kissed my hand, "Oi 'am not wourthy o' sich an honour. Sure, sor, Oi can lay on a hard blow and sich loike, but as fer attindin' on a gintlemin, in a proper way loike, uh! bad luck to me, Oi'd be but a disgrace to thee, sor."
"Come, come, Michael, thou must not be too modest," said I.
"Remember this advice that now I give thee," said Harleston. "If thou wouldst rise in this world that is filled with the gusts of opportunities do not let modesty nor fear close up thy wings of advantage. But spread them rather, that they may catch these eddying gusts, and thou be borne upon them to the heights of greatness."
Michael stood and stared at Harleston, with his mouth open, for a breathing space. Then said he in surprise:—"But, yer honour, divil a wing have Oi to moy name, and Oi dount want thim jist yit, seein' that one must go through purgatory ere he begins to grow thim."
Evidently Harleston's speech was beyond the depth of Michael's understanding.
"Uh! sor," said he, when he had expressed his opinion of the wings of advantage, "Oi was about to finish about Sor William whin yer honours spoke to me so koindly.
"What, was there more?"
"Thare was, sor. Oi walked down the hall till Oi came to a corner, and, as he had koind o' made me inquisitive loike, by his quistioning o' me so close, Oi jist stipped around the corner and stopped to look back to see whare he wint, sor."
"Yes, and where did he go?" I asked with interest.
"Sure, sor, he wint straight up to the door whare the ladies came out o', and he stops thare, sor, and he looks back to see if thare was anny one behoind him loike. Will, sor, Oi was out o' soight by the toime his eyes had rached the place whare Oi was hidin'. Whin Oi looks out agin he was not thare; but the ladies' door was open."
"Death and damnation!" I almost shrieked. Then turning to Michael:—"Go on, go on!" I cried.
"He was ounly in fer the space o' whoilst ye moight brathe about a half a score o' toimes, thin out he comes, with a koind o' disappintment on his face.
"'Must be in the park,' sez he, as he started fer the door. 'Damned if she'll escape me this toime.'
"Oi gits out as fast as moy long legs could carry me. But Oi waited outsoide and saw him go into the park, astrollin' along at his aise loike.
"As soon as he had got out o' soight Oi takes after him, afollowin' the same path that he took. He wint all over the houle damned place, alookin' here and alookin' thare, as though he ixpicted to foind some wan. Mither-o'-Gawd! sor, had the ladies bin thare he'd o' found some wan behoind him afore anny harm could o' come to thim fair craters; fer, yer honour, avin though he be a knoight, Oi'd not trust him as far as Oi could throw him with a browken arm."
"Thou art right there," said Harleston; "he hath fallen to the lowest depths, and needs must soon be called upon to answer for his conduct."
"Fallen! Harleston; dost thou say fallen?" I cried; "Why, the dog hath never been aught but what he is. 'Tis but the influence that he hath obtained with Lord Hastings that is now lending him more audacity."
"Will, sor," continued Michael, when again I told him to proceed with his story, "he discouvered not the ladies in the park. Thin, yer honour, he starts back, and it did give me the divil o' a toime to kape out o' soight o' the varmint. Jist as he come in soight o' the court yard he yills out as though some wan had struck him with a dagger—bad luck that some wan didn't—'What the divil manes this?' sez he, so loud that Oi could hear him, and he starts off at a run, as though the houle Palace was afoire.
"'Uh! murther!' sez Oi, and Oi takes after him.
"Whin Oi came close enough, Oi saw the Quane, Gawd bliss her, and all o' the Princesses, and the little Dooke o' York and his Hoighness, the Marquis o' Dorset, and the Lady Hazel and the Lady Mary, and thare was a strong body o' souldiers walkin' all around thim and protictin' thim loike.
"Sor William stood alookin' after thim as they wint across the yard, and all the whoile he was standin' he was acursin' and aswearin' as will as a bitter man moight.
"Oi lift him astandin' thare whoilst Oi wint and took care o' moy horse.
"Whin Oi came back near the place whare he had bin, Hivin hilp me if he wasn't still astandin' thare, with his head down, alookin' at his fate! "'Uh!' sez he, as Oi came within ear-shot o' his tongue, 'the Dook will give me the divil fer this. It must have bin that knave o' an Oirishman that brought her the news o' her brother's and son's fate. It would not be so bad if they hadn't taken little York,' sez he, still atalkin' to hissilf, though he ought to be ashamed o' hissilf fer spakin' to sich a knave.
"Thin Oi thought it was toime fer me to git out o' soight, as he moight not loike to be caught atalkin' to hissilf loike—and Oi dount blame him a bit nather. So Oi jist gits behoind the gate that goes down that soide alley, and Oi waits fer anny thing more that's comin'.
"'Bradley shall pay for this,' sez he; 'he must be the wan which hath warned the Quane,' sez he. 'Oi had bitter go and till Hastin's,' sez he, after he had agin stood soilent fer some toime. 'Oi wounder what Lord William will think o' Richard's plan.'
"'If it's wan that thou dost agray with,' sez Oi to moysilf, the same as Sor William sez to hissilf, 'and he be an honest man, he'll have a damned poor opinion o' it,' sez Oi.
"Thin Sor William goes on agin, amumblin' to hissilf, so that Oi could hardly hear him. 'If he knows what is good fer him he'll agray with Dook Richard, and lind him his support. Still,' sez he, after stoppin' agin, 'if Hastin's was remouved loike Oi moight some day be the Chancellor moysilf,' sez he, and he straightens hissilf up and rached up into the air as though he was a-tryin' to catch a floy, though agoin' so slow that anny smort baste, loike a floy, could git away afore he got within soight o' it. Thin, whin he thought he had whativir he was after, he straightins his arm out to the houle o' its lingth, and houlds it thare, with his head athrown back, as though he was his Houliness the Pope at Rome.
"'Ah! wilth, power, and ivirythin',' sez he, and he smoiled loike the divil.
"'Ah! Bradley, thoy toime is drawin' short. Whin Oi till Richard the part that thou hast takin aginst him methinks Oi see thoy head upon the block, whare Rivers', Grey's and Vaughan's soon shall be.'
"Lord, sor, Oi did have the divil's own toime to kape from killin' the murtherin' spalpeen!
"Whin he had finished his big talk he started off, and had his sarvant git his horse ridy, and he sits out fer somewhare as though the divil hissilf was at his hales—and its moysilf that am thinkin' he's in the varmint's heart.
"Oi thin waited with fear and trimblin' fer yer honour to return, and as soon as Oi saw thee come to thoy rooms Oi followed thee at once, sor, that Oi moight warn thee not to trust that knave, who is full, intoirely, of all that belongs to Hill, as is plainly seen by his mane lookin' face."
When Michael had finished his somewhat lengthy, yet to me the interestingest story that I might hear, both Harleston and I sat for some time without speaking. At length I addressed Michael. "Thou hast done better than I could have wished for, and indeed thine information is of the greatest use to me. I cannot thank thee, nor repay thee, sufficiently for this service; but if I fall not into the snares of this scheming villain thou shalt lack for naught that is in my power to give thee."
"Uh! sor, thou hast given thanks that Oi do not desarve; for Oi have but done my dooty to moy master. But Oi till thee this, sor,—In case annything should go amiss with thee, through that spalpeen, Oi hare take moine oath that Oi'll have the loife o' that varmint fer it."