Sir Mark left at last, to her great relief, and for the next fortnight she was as joyous as a bird, singing about the house, and in the highest of spirits, when, to her horror, the guest returned, accompanied by a dozen well-armed followers, who proved to be artisans, and began work the very next morning, assisting the founder’s staff.
Then by degrees it leaked out that Sir Mark had brought a great order from the King for guns and their ammunition—an order that must lead to wealth for the founder, who was busy almost night and day.
At the end of another week half-a-score more men arrived, to be distributed through the village, lodging with different workmen, whom they assisted during the day.
They were nominally in the founder’s service, and he paid them their weekly wage, but they looked to Sir Mark for guidance in all else saving the work at the foundry, and to Master Cobbe came plenty of complaints.
For Roehurst was no longer what it had been. Sir Mark’s followers brought with them London ways, and an amount of freedom which the founder’s men had on more than one occasion to resent; though certain maidens, notably Janet, at the Pool-house, and Polly, the handmaid of Mistress Anne, thought that the place had never been so gay and bright before.
And all the time the furnaces roared and made liquid the iron from the hills which had grown the wood-coal that supplied the heat, while careful moulds were made by the founder himself, who watched the casting of every piece.
Then powder was made in large quantities, and carefully stowed away in Master Cobbe’s magazine, a cool, deep, stone cavern, half natural, half cut in the soft sand-rock.
From being generally calm and peaceful, the place now grew to be like a busy hive. Nearly every day Mace shuddered as the casements rattled with the explosion of some great piece which was being tested, and in this part of the business Sir Mark took great interest himself. Butts were made, and targets set up for practice, and one by one great black howitzers were turned out, considered perfect, and then placed aside ready for sending to London, or to one of the shipping-ports upon the coast.
Every now and then came a messenger from some one high in authority in the great city, and the despatch he bore was duly perused and replied to by Sir Mark; who passed the greater part of his time at the foundry, but paid occasional visits to the Moat, where he was always most courteously received. There were cold grave looks for the young knight at the Pool-house, but always smiles and side-long glances at the Moat; but somehow the cold, grave looks only inflamed his passion, while the sight of Mistress Anne begat dislike.
But she knew well enough how to play her part, and though after Sir Mark’s departure Polly had her ears well boxed for the first remark she made—Dame Beckley fled to her garden of simples to seek for peace, as if it were some cunning plant—and Sir Thomas blew out his cheeks, opened his eyes, and then went into his sanctum to study the King’s work on witchcraft—the tremendous storms that arose never spread outside the precincts of the Moat, and Sir Mark believed the lady to be simplicity and gentleness itself.