CHAPTER V

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*The Man with the King's Evil*

'Twas plain to see by the glowing look upon his handsome face how touched the Duke was by these joyous acclamations. Doffing his hat he bowed both graciously and long; then, as he raised his hand for silence, a sudden hush fell on the eager throng before him.

"Dear friends," said he, in a voice that rang out clear and sweet upon the stillness, "I thank you more than words can tell for the thrice-hearty welcome ye have given me back to that country from which, as ye know, I have so long been exiled. Dear people, this is neither time nor place for speech-making, but as for the reason of my coming--well, methinks the cries which just now fell upon mine ears proclaim how thoroughly ye are aware of it. Truth, like good wine, needs little bush, and certainly those words of yours rang true as Spanish steel; for verily, dear friends, I am Monmouth, your Monmouth, son of your late beloved King, the champion of that Protestant religion which ye hold so dear, and of those liberties which are the very birthright of our country."

At this another mighty shout went up of "Monmouth! our Monmouth! Liberty! The Protestant religion!" and while the air still rang with it, a woman, well advanced in years, ran from the crowd, and kneeling at the Duke's feet, caught up his hand and kissed it. At first he started back, then, having looked keenly at her face, raised her tenderly and kissed her on the cheek.

It turned out afterwards that she was some old servant who had known him when a boy; and you may be sure that this gracious act endeared him still more greatly to the simple-hearted folk who witnessed it. Indeed, it seemed as if they were all bent on following the ancient dame's example, for with a loud, glad cry the crowd surged towards the Duke, and had not those about him held them back he must have been wellnigh pressed into the sea.

Then Monmouth once more raised his hand for silence.

"Good people all," said he, "ere we set forth upon our enterprise I would have you join in giving thanks to God for merciful deliverance vouchsafed us from the King's ships while at sea."

Uncovering, the Duke knelt down upon the shore, and nearly all the rest did likewise.

To me he seemed to pray both well and earnestly, and none the less so for that his prayer was short. Ah, how little did we think just then that in a few short months many of us would hear prayers and speeches on that very spot from lips which would soon be closed for ever!

On either side of Monmouth knelt two men, who, by the look of them, might also well have let go a prayer, for both were dressed as ministers. He on the right was short and stout, with a rounded, happy face. His eyes and mouth were tightly closed; his hands were clasped before him. The man upon the left was tall and bony, with a face that ill accorded with his garb, being sharp and crafty, and, as I found out when he turned it suddenly towards the glowing sky, blotched scarlet with king's evil. A tousled wig hung down upon his forehead, and beneath it two small villainous black eyes went to and fro as though they were on wires. Throughout the prayer he never ceased to rub his bony hands together like one who washed; while, ever and anon, he jerked forth hallelujahs through his nose. I knew him not from Adam then (I was to know him all too well thereafter!), but, verily, I hated him upon the spot.

Prayer being ended, the Duke unsheathed his sword, and holding it high above his head, cried:

"I draw this weapon in the cause of liberty and true religion, and may God bless the work that lies before us!"

A loud "Amen!" broke from the crowd, and Monmouth said:

"Forward, and let those who are well disposed towards us follow!"

Then Monmouth's men formed up in double file, a blue flag was unfurled, in front of which the Duke took up his place, with a fine-dressed gentleman on either side of him; then those of our townsmen who had the courage of their voices (some hundred odd) fell in behind, and so they all went marching to the market-place.

Here beneath the flag, which bore the motto, _Pro religione et libertate_, a proclamation was read aloud by the lanky, black-eyed minister, whose evil looks had struck me so upon the shore; and as he read he fell at times into the broadest Scotch, which it is quite beyond me to describe. Moreover, what he read was far too long to set down here. Suffice it to say that 'twas one long indictment of the King (or, as they put it, James, Duke of York), charging him, among other crimes, with having poisoned his brother, the late King Charles, and ending with these words:

"Now let us play the men for our people, and for the cities of our God; and the Lord do that which seemeth good unto Him."

While the reading of this long tirade was going forward I sought some information.

"Who are those two fine-dressed men who stand on either side the Duke?" I asked of a sour-faced fellow at my elbow.

"Those are Monmouth's generals," he answered with a snivel. "He on the right is Lord Grey of Wark, of whom I cannot say much; but he on the left is Master Fletcher of Saltoun, a man well skilled in carnal warfare, a godly man to boot."

"Ah, and that round-faced minister who tries to look so solemn and yet cannot. Who is he?"

"'Tis Master Hooke, the Duke's private chaplain, a worthy man, I trow, though somewhat Popish of appearance."

Just then the reader of the declaration turned himself to get a better light, and the setting sun fell full upon his blotched, scorbutic cheek and made it look as though 'twere stained with blood.

I gazed upon him spellbound for a moment, then I asked:

"And prithee, who is he that reads?"

The voice of my informant dropped into a solemn whisper, as though 'twere something sacred that he spoke of, as he answered:

"That is Doctor Robert Ferguson, chaplain to Monmouth's army, and a terror to all workers of iniquity."

On hearing this I started round as though the man had struck me, and barely saved myself from crying out.

"What's that?" I gasped. "Ferguson the Plotter?"

The fellow glowered upon me for a space, looking me up and down with angry eyes.

"Thy tongue wags over free for one so young," snarled he at last. "Nay, Ferguson the godly. See how his face lights up with blazing zeal!"

But that was enough for me. Gaining the outskirts of the crowd I hurried to the "George" to get my horse, pursued by such a hornet's nest of wild, bewildering thoughts as fairly made my head sing.

On coming near the jail I heard a great commotion going forward, and there, as I live, was Simon Jackson, the Nonconformist blacksmith, bare-armed and sledge in hand, raining fierce blows upon the stout, nail-studded door. He had already burst the town-hall open to make a storage place for Monmouth's baggage, and was now bent on setting free his brother Nonconformists, who, as I have said, had lately been imprisoned by the Mayor.

Even as I looked the door flew open with a crash, and out stepped half a score of white-faced, startled men, among them old Sampson Larke, the grey-haired Anabaptist minister.

"There," methought as I turned away, "falls the pride and power of Master Gregory Alford!"

I found the inn yard humming with excitement. Serving men and maids ran to and fro distracted; for the news had already reached outlying villages, and men poured in from every quarter, some armed and eager, others idly curious, but all of them hot and thirsty, and calling loudly to be served with ale: while on a top step stood the landlord, surveying the giddy sight like one bedazed. The name of Monmouth was on every lip, and each new-comer added to the din.

Shouldering my way through the buzzing, drinking throng I made for my horse. The stable in which I had left her lay round a dark, far corner of the yard, and on turning this I noticed that the door was closed and that a flickering light showed underneath it. This surprised me not a little, and hurrying up I tried the door. To my great astonishment I found it fastened on the inner side. I called, but no one answered save my mare, who gave a joyous whinny. Listening for a moment I made out voices talking in a whisper, and thus feeling certain that some mischief was afoot I put my shoulder to the door (an ancient, rickety affair) and burst it open. Then indeed I started back, as well I might, for there was my horse already saddled, while beside her stood two burly, steel-capped fellows, armed with sword and pistol. One of them held a lantern, the other Kitty's bridle, and both regarded me with guilty, startled faces, like the thieving dogs they were.

Just then the mare turned round her pretty head to look at me, and neighed again.

"Is this thy mare?" asked he who held the bridle.

"Well--yes," I answered; "at least, that is, I thought it was; but now it seems as though I must have been mistaken."

"Thou hast a mocking tongue, young man," whined he who held the lantern.

"Yet that were surely better than a thieving hand," quoth I.

"What mean you?" he asked, taking a step towards me.

"Exactly what I say," I answered slowly. "In other words, you are a pair of sneaking thieves."

At that each laid a hand upon his sword and eyed me fiercely, while he with the light came forward in a threatening fashion.

"We are no thieves," he hissed, showing his yellow teeth. "We claim thy mare for the cause."

"And, prithee, what cause is that?" I asked.

"The cause of liberty and truth," whined he.

"The cause of Monmouth, eh?"

He nodded frowningly.

"Then," said I, "if liberty and truth go hand in hand with thieving, may God help the Duke! Let go that bridle," I added, striding up to the fellow who had laid a hand on it again.

He hesitated for a moment, glaring upon me with a pair of angry, bloodshot eyes; but, though only eighteen years, I topped him by a good three inches, and doubtless my face told tales besides. Growling something anent "godless upstarts" he drew back sulkily and joined his comrade by the door which he had closed. And there they stood muttering together and casting ugly glances at me.

Turning Kitty round, I took her bridle on my arm and moved towards them.

"Open that door," I said, "and let me pass."

But they were two to one, and odds give courage even unto cowards. Whipping out their swords they set themselves against the door.

"You leave that horse or go not," said one.

"Aye, verily," quoth the other.

Stopping, I also drew my sword and said:

"Ah! say you so? Listen; do you know that I have but to call, and half a score good friends will come to teach you honesty? Again, I say, open that door and let me pass."

"Ah!" jeered the fellow who had closed it. "You come not over us with that, young man. Know you that we also have some friends without; not half a score, but three score--well-armed withal, and zealous in the cause to boot."

There was ugly truth in that. I thought swiftly for a moment. Yes, 'twas my only chance!

"Fools!" I cried. "You do not know what business I am bent on!"

"Nay, how should we know it?" growled the bridle man. "What is it?"

"Why, such as, if you knew it," I replied, "methinks would make you open that door with right goodwill."

"Prithee then, tell us what such mighty business is," sneered the other. "Whom doth it concern?"

"One Robert Ferguson," I answered slowly.

At that the fellows started as though my words had been a pistol barrel.

"Ferguson!" quoth one of them uneasily. "Our godly chaplain!"

I nodded, though more than doubtful of the godliness; and he added:

"Why, then, didst not tell us this before, friend?"

"What now!" I shouted with a show of anger as I sheathed my sword. "Am I, then, to cry my business out to every brace of thieves I meet?"

"You speak with heat, not knowing," whined the lantern-bearer. "Verily, we are no thieves, but honest fighters for the cause, seeking horses, which are sorely lacking. And if we had known the nature of thy business, we----"

"Fool!" I broke in fiercely. "Cease thy prating, and open that door at once, or methinks 'twill be the worse for you. One word of this delay to Dr. Ferguson, and----"

Back flew the door, and, as I moved slowly forward, the opener of it laid a trembling hand upon my arm, saying:

"Pray you, sir, get not two honest fellows into trouble. 'Twas done in ignorance."

"I will consider that," I answered sternly, striding beside my mare into the yard with great relief. Truly, one Ferguson had served my purpose handsomely!

Turning to the left, in order to avoid the crowded yard, I passed down a well-known entry, and so came out into a dark and now quite deserted street.

"That was a narrow squeak, old girl," I whispered, stroking Kitty's silken neck, and, as though she understood, the pretty creature whinnied gently. Then I mounted, and away we fled for home.

In view of what had happened at the stable, I judged it best to keep as far as possible to by-ways; and so, instead of going through the town (the nearest road), I struck into a narrow, high-banked lane with sheltering trees on either side.

'Twas now dusk. Far off I heard the tumult of the town, rising and falling in a ceaseless hum; but here all seemed silent and deserted. Yet, even so, it was not long before I proved that Monmouth's men were guarding even such unlikely avenues; for just as Kitty, with a hill before her, dropped into an easy trot, I suddenly made out a group of fellows gathered near the top, beneath the shadow of a tree.

This was plaguy awkward, but yet more so when, as I drew nearer, they spread themselves across the road, and I made out they were armed with muskets. Still, there was nothing for it save to put a bold face on the matter; so, bringing Kitty to a walk, I went forward whistling carelessly, and had come within fifty yards of them, when one, who seemed to be a leader, stepped out, and holding up his hand, cried:

"Stop! Thy name and business, friend!"

At that I pulled up the mare, and shouted back:

"What's that you say?"

Fingering his musket-lock, he came a few steps nearer me, and bawled:

"Thou'rt somewhat hard of hearing, friend. I said, Thy name and business? Prithee, give both quickly."

"My name is of small account," I answered; "and for my business, know that it concerns one Robert Ferguson."

That name had done so well for me before, that I could think of nothing better; but, alack! it failed me this time.

"That will not serve thee, friend. 'Tis not sufficient," quoth the man sternly. "If thy business indeed concerns our chaplain, show thy pass, or give the watchword."

"Aye, verily! thy pass or watchword," sang another who had now come up with him.

Here, truly, was an ugly state of things. To turn and flee might mean a musket-ball for me or Kitty. I thought a moment. Yes, to surprise them was my only chance.

"The watchword, say ye? Yes, with all my heart."

So saying, I bent forward in the saddle, and, pressing my knees upon the mare's flanks, spoke softly to her. She gave an angry snort, down went her ears, and next instant she was rushing forward like a mad thing.

'Twas all so sudden that, for the nonce, those valiant keepers of the road were utterly confounded. With startled cries, they broke and fled towards the banks. Yet barely was I past them ere a musket-shot rang out, and a ball sang dangerously near my head. Another and another followed, but by that time I was beyond their reach.

Not till I was well past Uplime did I draw rein; then, pulling up beside a little wood, I stopped to breathe and think. Truly, my mare and I had already had a taste of what rebellion meant. A few short hours had made our quiet roads unsafe for honest men. "'Tis a pretty thing," I muttered, "if a fellow cannot ride home peacefully without the danger of a pistol bullet through his head. If this be the way of 'honest Protestants', then give me Popery! The sooner I am at The Havering, the better."

With that I turned my horse, and, entering a lonely lane, which, as it seemed, was certain to prove empty, cantered on my way. But I had not gone far before I overtook some half-score fellows who were hurrying Lymewards. As they drew aside to let me pass, I reined up suddenly and scanned their faces. They were heavy, lumbering yokels, farm hands for the most part, and several were known to me.

"Well, and whither go you?" I asked.

"Up over, into Lyme," said they, "to join the Duke o' Monmouth. Hast not heard the news, sir?"

"Yes, I have heard it right enough," I answered; "but, if you would be warned in time, go home again, for methinks your present way leads straight to hanging."

Their mouths fell open at my words, and for a moment there was silence; then one of them, a big-limbed fellow, cried:

"A Monmouth! Down with Popery! The Protestant religion!"

The others joined in lustily, and so I left them and rode on. Alack! I was to see three of those simple-minded rustics dangling from a rope-end in the days to come!

On drawing near Hay House (a lonely place), where lived the Mayor of Lyme, I saw a horse come out into the road, with two men on it, riding double.

This seemed so strange that I must needs pull up to look at them, and so, as they came abreast of me, I found the foremost one was Dassell. Both had swords and pistols.

"What now?" said I.

"Hush!" said he. "The very trees have ears to-night. I ride to raise the country on these rebels--to Crewkerne first--and friend Thorold here goes with me."

"Yes, but why ride ye so?" I asked.

"Because there is no other way," he answered, smiling grimly. "'Tis certainly a heavy beast--a coach-horse surely; but 'twill serve, methinks. At any rate, 'twas the only horse in Master Gregory's stable."

"And is the Mayor at home?"

"Nay, there is no one save his sister. All his men have joined the rebels. The Mayor fled long ago to Exeter, to warn the Duke of Albemarle."

"And save his skin!" said I. "Well, have a care. The roads are guarded, and 'tis but a chance that I am not the heavier by a bullet."

"Ah! is that so?" quoth Dassell, glancing at his pistols.

"It is," said I, and, wishing them God-speed, rode on my way.

On reaching home I found the yard deserted, and so, vowing vengeance on our truant fellows, I led Kitty to the stable. There I had removed her harness, fed and watered her, when I heard a footstep just outside; and turning, found my father standing in the doorway with a lantern in his hand.

"Is that you, my son?" he asked, in a voice which methought was strange and hollow.

"Yes, sir," I answered, and was about to start forth on a full account of all that I had seen and heard, when, as my father raised the light, I noticed that his face was deathly white, and that his eyes were full of fear, a look which I had never seen in them before. Then, and not till then, I thought of Tubal Ammon, and the guarding of the window.

"What is it, sir?" I asked with great anxiety.

"Come, quickly, Michael," he replied, and turning, led the way towards the house.

He took me straight into the study, where one glance sufficed to prove that something bad had happened. The window, a pane of which above the fastener had been broken, lay wide open; papers were littered on the floor; while with a thrill of fear, I noticed that my mother's portrait was displaced.

"Father, what is wrong?" I asked, turning to the spot where he stood staring at me in dumb, frightened fashion.

He made no answer, but going over to the secret panel, opened it, and pointed to a darkened corner.

With trembling hand I took a candle from the table, and, kneeling, looked inside.

The Black Box was not there!

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