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Darnley

<h4>CHAPTER XXX.</h4><div class="poem0" style="margin-left:30%"> So catchers And snatchers Do toil both night and day, Not needie, But greedie, Still prolling for their prey. </div> However a poor novelist may like to pursue the even tenor of his way in peace and quietness, it is quite impossible for him to do so if he take a true story for the basis of his tale. Circumstance is always jumping about; and if he would follow nature, he must join in the game of leap-frog too. Here is the palace of Fortune, with its glitter, and its splendour, and its show; and there the cottage of Want, with its care, and its foulness, and its misery. In one house, new-born Life is coming into the world, all joyous; in the next, stern Death leads man away to eternity; weeping Sorrow and laughing Joy sit mocking each other at every step; and smiles and tears are still running after each other on the high road, though little formed to bear company together. Then, since the world is full of oppositions and of jumps, he that copies it must sit upon his hind legs and play the kangaroo also. I found it necessary to put forth this excuse before proceeding with Vonderbrugius, who, without offering any reason for so doing, suddenly flies back to scenes that we have not long quitted, and brings the reader once more to London, where he shall be detained as short a time as possible, on the word of a scribe. All those who have read the history of that little, powerful nook of island-earth called Great Britain, must very well know that the imperious minister of Henry the Eighth was not one to receive contradiction with patient resignation: what then was his rage on hearing that Lady Constance de Grey was not to be found at Richmond! True to what he threatened, Wolsey had not failed, immediately on arriving in London, to send a horse-litter down to Richmond for his fair ward, notwithstanding the lateness of the hour and the cold he had himself experienced on the water; and towards eleven the same night his messengers returned, informing him that the lady was not to be found in the palace; adding, also, that a man belonging to the gate had been employed to carry some luggage for her down to a two-oared boat, which had received her at the stairs, and rowed off towards Westminster. This was the sum of all the news they had obtained, but it was sufficient to guide Wolsey on the search which he instantly prepared to institute for the fugitive. Before going to rest, he took every precaution for preventing her leaving the kingdom; ordered messengers to set out early the next morning for every port where she was likely to embark; and commanded an officer to post to Richmond that very night, and, stationing himself at the palace-stairs, to await the arrival of the men who rowed the boat which had conveyed her away, giving him at the same time an order for their arrest. In regard to the couriers to the various ports, we shall leave them to their fate, not embarrassing ourselves with a search half over the realm, but shall pursue the movements of the other messenger, from whose operations very important results were obtained. Though heartily wishing the cardinal and Lady Constance well scourged, the one as the proximate, the other as the remote cause of his night-ride, the officer got into his saddle, and accompanied by two followers, set out for Richmond, where they arrived towards two o'clock in the morning. Men of a curious and philosophic mind have remarked, that there is always a pot-house near a waterman's stairs; and the same fact was observable in the present instance. Nearly opposite to the landing on the left-hand side stood the hospitable mansion of a beer-retailer, who dealt out the British nectar to all those who had the means of paying for it; and in his window, even at the hour of two o'clock, was shining a lamp, whereat the officer marvelled, as the neighbourhood of the palace enjoined order and sobriety amongst the multitude. Riding up, however, he dismounted; and pushing open the door, perceived that the tap-room was occupied by a single individual of the waterman species, whose sleepy head, nodding backwards and forwards, often approached so near the lamp upon the table as to threaten his red nose with a conflagration. Without any regard for the rites of Morpheus, the officer shook the sleeper heartily by the shoulder, whereupon he started up, crying-- "Well, I'm ready; how long you've been! I've been a-waiting this hour." "Waiting for whom?" demanded the officer; "not for me, I'm sure, or with my will you'd waited long enough." "Lord bless us, sir! I beg your worship's pardon!" said the man, rubbing his eyes; "I thought you were the two yeomen that hired my boat to take the young lady to Lunnun. Curious folks they were not to let me row my own boat! They promised to be back by one, and so Master Tapster lets me sit up here for 'em. I thought you were them two indeed." "No. I'm a single man, and never was two in my life," answered the officer. "But about these two yeomen? At one o'clock you say they were to come? Pray, how came you to let them your boat?" "Lord! because they asked me, sure," replied the waterman; "that's how." "But how do you know they will ever bring it back again?" demanded the officer. "Because they left me ten marks as a pledge," answered the other. "No, no; I wasn't to be outwitted. I saw they wanted the boat very bad, so I let them have it for a mark by the day; but I made them leave me ten others; so, if the boat be lost or hurt, I've got double its worth in my own pocket." "And what did they say they were going to do with it?" demanded the officer. "Oh! I didn't ask," said the waterman; "but walking about I saw them lie there at the stairs for near an hour, till presently comes down a young lady, and an old priest, and a waiting-woman, as I judged, and in they get, and away rows the boat toward Lunnun. They were lusty rowers, I warrant you, and good at the trade. But your worship seems mighty curious about them." "Ay, and so curious," answered the officer, "that they shall both come with me to London if they come hither to-night; and you, too, Master Waterman; so hold yourself ready. Ho, Thomas! come in and stay with this worthy. See that he does not budge. You, Will, put up the horses, and then come down to me at the stairs." The excellent tipstaff now, after cutting short the remonstrance of the boatman, proceeded to the water-side, and crossing his arms, waited, with his eyes fixed upon the bright river, as it flowed on, rippling like waves of silver in the moonshine. In a few minutes he was joined by his follower, and before long a black spot appeared moving up the midst of the stream, while the plashing of distant oars began to make itself heard. As the boat came nearer, two men were plainly to be seen rowing it towards the landing-place, one of whom, raising his head when they were within a few yards' distance, exclaimed-- "Is that you, Master Perkins?" "Ay, ay!" answered the officer, imitating, as well as he could, the gruff halloo of a waterman, and walking about with his hands in his breeches pockets, as if to keep himself warm. Without more ado, the boat pulled to the shore, and one of the men jumped out, whereupon the officer instantly caught him by the collar, exclaiming-- "In the king's name I charge you go with me!" "Pull off! pull off!" cried the man to his companion; "by the Lord, he has grabbed me! Pull off, boy!" The other rower without scruple pushed from the shore before the tipstaff's man could secure the bow of the boat, and seeing his companion caught beyond the power of extrication, he snatched up the other oar, and pulled away down the river as hard as he could. "And now, what the devil do you want with me'" cried the man, sturdily, turning to the officer. "Come, off with your hands! Don't be fingering my collar so hard, or I'll crack your nutshell for you." And at the same time he struggled to shake off the other's grasp; but the officer, who seemed accustomed to deal with persons that did not particularly relish his ministry, very soon settled the question with his prisoner, by striking him a blow over the head with a staff he carried, in such sort as to level him with the ground. It is wonderful how soothing to the prisoner's feelings this mild treatment seemed to be; for without any further effort he suffered himself to be led away to the alehouse, from whence he was safely removed the next morning to Westminster, the original owner of the boat being carried along with him as a witness. And here let me beg all constables, Bow Street officers, scarlet runners, street-keepers, constables of the night, and watchmen, who may read this excellent and instructive history, to take example by the prudence of this officer, who, having acquired all the information he could from other sources, wisely abstained from asking his prisoner any questions whatsoever, leaving his examination to be taken by competent persons. Carrying his game directly to York House, the worthy and exemplary tipstaff, whose name I should not fail to record, had not Vonderbrugius unfeelingly omitted it; this prince of tipstaves, I say, placed his charge in a place of security, and, on the cardinal's return from Westminster Hall, informed him of all that he had done to fulfil the mission with which he had honoured him. The cardinal praised the tipstaff's zeal, and beginning to suspect that there was some mystery in the business, more than the mere course which Constance had taken, he ordered the prisoner and the evidence to be brought instantly before him; and proceeded himself to investigate the matter, and to see whether his fingers would be neat enough to pick the needle out of the bottle of hay: a delicate operation, for which there is but one method, which may be called the Alexandrine: namely, burn the hay, and you are sure to get the needle. Something similar was the proceeding which the cardinal proposed to adopt; for no sooner was the prisoner brought before him, rather pale with fright, and somewhat nervous with his night's entertainment, than he pronounced a most eloquent oration upon the necessity of meeting death with firmness, warning the unhappy man, at the same time, that he had nothing to hope in this world, and bidding him to prepare for the next. Through the whole, however, he suffered to appear, implied, though not expressed, the possibility that a free confession of all the culprit knew concerning Lady Constance de Grey and her evasion might take the sting out of his offence, and disencumber his windpipe of the pressing familiarity with which it was threatened by a hempen cord. In those times rights were but little defined, and the extent of the great civil and political powers hardly ascertained even to the minds of the cultivated and reflecting, much less to people in the rank of the person who now stood before the prelate, surrounded by all those impressive insignia which then, indeed, implied vast though borrowed power. Without going into the metaphysics of the business, it will be sufficient for my purpose to say, that the poor fellow was desperately frightened, especially as he had upon his conscience more than one hearty crime, which he well knew might at any time prove a sufficient excuse for sending him part of the way to heaven, whether he ever made the whole journey out or not. Therefore, having no great interest in concealing anything he knew, and every interest in the world in telling it, he fell down upon his knees, declaring that he would reveal all, if the cardinal would make a solemn promise that he should have the king's free pardon and the church's for every sin, crime, and misdemeanour he had committed up to that day. It cost him nothing but a bit of parchment and a little yellow wax, and so the cardinal promised; whereupon the culprit, still upon his knees, began as follows:-- "My master, Sir Payan Wileton----" "Sir Payan Wileton is your master, then?" cried Wolsey "So, so! Go on." "My master, Sir Payan Wileton, my gracious lord," continued the man, "after he had been with your grace yesterday morning, returned home full speed to his house by the water's edge, near Tothill, and suddenly dispatched one of our yeomen down to Richmond with a poor foolish priest, saving your grace's presence, who had been with him some days. After that, he wrote a note, and giving it to me, bade me take with me Black John, and gallop down to the court like mad. Whenever we got there, I was to speak with Hatchel Sivard, whom he had set to spy all that passed at the palace, and who would help me to hire a boat for the day. After that was done, I was to seek the Lady de Grey, and give her the note; and then, leaving our horses at the baiting-house, I and my fellow were to wait in the boat till the lady came, and to row her whithersoever she directed; but, above all, to seem like common watermen, and to take whatever payment she gave us. And if by chance she didn't come, we were to give up the boat and return." As may be supposed, Wolsey was not a little surprised at the intrigue which this opened to his view. "So!" said he. "So! Hatchel Sivard, the page of the queen's ante-chamber, is a pensioned spy of Sir Payan Wileton. Good! very good! Of course you carried the lady to her relation's house, ha?" "Not so, may it please your lordship's grace," replied the man. "At first, she made as if she would have stopped at Tothill, but then she bade us row on to Westminster, where she landed." "But you saw whither she went?" cried Wolsey, his brow darkening. "Mind, your life depends upon your speaking truth! Let me but see a shade of falsehood, and you are lost!" "As I hope for mercy, my lord, I tell you the whole truth," replied the servant. "When she was landed, I got out and followed; but, after turning through several streets, I saw that they marked me watching, so I was obliged to run down a narrow lane, hoping to catch them by going round; but they had taken some other way, and I found them not again." Wolsey let his hand drop heavily upon the table, disappointed in his expectations. "You say them, fellow! Whom do you mean?" he demanded. "Who was with her?" "Her waiting-woman, your grace," answered the man, "and an old priest, who Sivard says is her chaplain." "Ah!" said Wolsey thoughtfully; "Dr. Wilbraham! This is very strange! A staid good man, obedient to my will, coinciding in the expediency of the marriage I proposed. There must be some deeper plot here of this Sir Payan Wileton. The poor girl must be deceived, and perhaps not so much obstinate as misled. I see it; I see it all. The wily traitor seeks her estates, and would fain both stop her marriage and bring her within my displeasure. A politic scheme, upon my honour! but it shall not succeed. Secretary, bid an usher speed to Sir Payan Wileton, and, greeting him sweetly, request his presence for a moment here." It was the latter part of the above speech only that met the ears of those around, the rest being muttered to himself in a low and almost inaudible tone. "Pray, pray your lordship's grace!" cried the man, clasping his hands in terror as soon as he heard Wolsey's command; "do not let Sir Payan have me. I shall not be alive this time two days, if you do. Indeed I shan't. Your grace does not know him. There is nothing stops him in his will; and I shall be found dead in my bed, or drowned in a pond, or tumbled out of window, or something like; and then Sir Payan will pretend to make an investigation, and have the crowner, and it will be found all accident. If it is the same to your lordship's grace, I would rather be hanged at once, and know what I'm about, than be given up to Sir Payan, to die no one can tell how." "Fear not, fool!" said Wolsey; "but tell the whole truth, and you shall be safe; ay, and rewarded. Conceal anything, and you shall be hanged. Take him away, secretary, and examine him carefully. Make him give an exact account of everything he has seen in the house of Sir Payan Wileton, and after putting it in writing, swear him to it; and then, hark you"--and he whispered something to the secretary--adding, "let him be there well used." The man was now removed from the cardinal's presence; and waiting till the messenger returned from Sir Payan's, Wolsey remained in deep thought, revolving in his keen and scrutinising mind all the parts of the shrewd plot he had just heard developed, and thinking over the best means of punishing Sir Payan Wileton in such a manner as to make his fall most bitter. While thus engaged, one of his secretaries entered, and bowing low stood silent, as if waiting for permission to speak. "What is it?" said Wolsey; "is it matter of consequence?" The secretary bowed low again, and replied, "It is the herald's opinion, my lord, upon the succession of the old Lord Orham of Barneton, the miser, who left the two chests of gold, as well----" "I know, I know!" said Wolsey. "How do they give it? I trust not to that base churl, William Orham, who struck my officer one day." "Oh, no! your grace," replied the secretary; "there are two nearer than he is. But they say the succession is quite clear. Charles Lord Orham, the great-grandfather of the last, had three sons, from one of whom descends William Orham; but the eldest son, succeeding, had two sons and a daughter, all of whom married, and had issue; the eldest son, Thomas Lord Orham, him succeeded, who had only issue the last lord. The daughter had five sons, and the second son, Hugh Orham, had one only daughter, who married Arthur Bulmer, Earl of Wilmington, who died, leaving issue one only daughter, Mistress Katrine Bulmer, by courtesy the Lady Katrine Bulmer, whom your grace may remember the queen took very young, when it was found that Lord Wilmington's estates went in male descent. She is the undoubted heiress." "Ha!" said Wolsey, "that changes much. Well, well! go see that it be clearly made out. Now, what says Sir Payan Wileton?" he continued, turning to the messenger, who had just returned. "The house is empty, so please your grace," replied the usher, "all but one old porter, who says that Sir Payan and his train set out for Chilham yesterday morning, after visiting your reverend lordship. He affirms, moreover, that the knight never got off his horse, but only gave orders that the priest should be sent down to Richmond with all speed, and then rode away himself for Kent." "So!" said the cardinal, his lip curling into a scornful sneer, "he finds his miscreant is caught, and thinks to deceive me with a tale that would not cloud the eyesight of an old woman. But let him stay; he shall lull himself into a fool's paradise, and then find himself fallen to nothing. That will do." The usher fell back, and for a moment Wolsey, as was often his wont, continued muttering to himself, "The Lady Katrine: she was Darby's fool passion. If it lasts he shall have her: 'tis better than the other. Besides, the other girl is away, and he must have gold to bear out his charges at this meeting at Ardres; so shall it be. Well, well! Send in whoever waits without," he added, speaking in a louder voice, and then applied himself to other business. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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