The Lost Treasure of Trevlyn: A Story of the Days of the Gunpowder Plot

by Evelyn Everett-Green

Cuthbert descended the stairs with uncertain steps, his mind in a whirl of conflicting feelings. He believed that Esther was sincere in her desire for the welfare of the house of Trevlyn. He trusted her, and he saw that she had in some way or another become possessed of information concerning himself of a very particular and intimate kind. This being so, it was easy to believe that she had discovered other matters of hidden import; and he was quite disposed to give her credit for dealings in magic and charms which should show her the things that were to be.

The horror of the knowledge of this plot was upon him as he went forth into the streets and felt the keen air and the cold rain dashing in his face. He could not doubt the truth of Esther's words. All he had seen and heard tallied too well with it to leave in his mind any room for doubt. A plot of some sort he had always suspected--he would have been foolish indeed to have come to any other conclusion; but a plot of such malignity and such diabolical scope would never have presented itself to his mind. He found it hard to believe that such a terrible thing could be menaced against the King and the nobles of the land, many amongst whom must surely be of the same faith as those conspirators who were plotting in the dark.

And then the peril that menaced the Trevlyns--what of that? Cuthbert remembered the looks bent upon him a few days back by the men-at-arms in the Parliament House. He remembered the light of the sentry flashing in his face as he turned away from the door in at which the tall man they called Guido Fawkes had vanished but a few moments before. He knew that he had been observed more than once with some attention as he had stepped on board his wherry, or had brought it up to the mooring place. Could it be that he was really watched and suspected? It seemed like it, indeed. And what was more serious still, his kinsmen were like to fall under suspicion through his rash disregard of warnings.

For himself Cuthbert cared comparatively little--perhaps rather too little--for he possessed a strong dash of his father's stubbornness of disposition; and in him the Trevlyn courage was intermingled with a good deal of absolute rashness and hardihood; but the thought that Sir Richard and his family should suffer for his sake was intolerable. That must at all cost be prevented. Surely he could warn them and avert the danger.

As the youth walked rapidly westward through the miry streets, he was revolving the situation rapidly in his mind, and at last he reached a conclusion which he muttered aloud as he went.

"That will be the best: I will to mine uncle and Philip and tell them that. It will make them hasten away at once; but I will not go with them. If I am suspected I must not be seen with them, nor seem to have dealings with them. If they leave town and I remain, none will suspect that I have warned them and sent them forth. To fly with them would at once raise such thoughts. Here must I remain, and let myself be seen abroad, so will they the better escape Miriam's evil intent. Sir Richard has friends at Court. Lord Andover and others will speak for him if need be. I doubt me much, he being quietly gone, whether any will dare to strive to bring his name into disgrace. There be those to find who are the guilty ones. Sure they may let the innocent go free. As for me, I will not flee. I would fain see the end of this matter. And perchance I might even warn Master Robert Catesby of the peril that hangs over his head. Strange how so gentle and courteous a gentleman can sell himself to a work of such devilish wickedness!"

Divided betwixt horror of the deed and pity for the conspirators who had been practically discovered and frustrated in their evil work, and who had doubtless persuaded themselves and been persuaded by their ghostly advisers that it was an act of virtue and justice and right, Cuthbert walked on, wondering more and more at the strange vagaries of human conscience, and at the extraordinary self delusion possible to the sons of the Romish faction.

It was long since he had decided definitely and of resolute conviction to cast in his lot with those who held the Reformed faith; but had he ever had any secret doubts and leanings towards the faith in which he had been reared, the revelations of that night would have proved enough for him. He knew--none better--that this diabolic deed was planned and executed with the full consent, approbation, and blessing of the Romanist priests, and might even be known to the Pope himself. Sorrowful and indignant as Cuthbert had often been for the persecuted Romanists, and keenly as his sympathies would have been stirred had they risen in man-like fashion to claim liberty of conscience and fight boldly for the cause in which their hearts were bound up, he could regard a plot like this with nothing but loathing and horror. He wondered that men could be found willing to sell themselves to such iniquity. Yet he knew, from what he had himself seen, that these were no mere hirelings bought over with money to do this thing, but that they were gentlemen, most of them of noble birth and large means, all of them actuated by motives of devotion and religious enthusiasm; and that they did not prize their own lives or regard them as in any way precious, but would gladly offer them up so that this thing might be accomplished.

Well, it was a mystery, and one that he could not fathom. He could only feel thankful that no compulsion lay upon him to make known what he had seen and heard. His word had been pledged to Catesby and Father Urban, and how to have broken it he knew not. But there was no call for him even to think of this. It was not he who had discovered this strange plot. The knowledge of it was already with the King and his ministers. The conspirators themselves were half aware of this; Cuthbert well remembered the words of fear concerning some letter spoken in the lonely garden at Lambeth but a couple of days back.

How dared they, knowing so much, pursue their dark scheme? The youth shuddered as he marvelled at them. Did they believe themselves yet secure? What a fearful thing security such as that might become! Cuthbert longed to warn them, yet feared to intermeddle further in such a matter. And at least his first business lay in the warning he must instantly convey to Sir Richard, and that without revealing more of the truth than was absolutely necessary. Cuthbert was worldly wise enough to be well aware that the greatest protection his kinsmen could have against suspicion was absolute ignorance of the matter of which they stood suspected.