The Lost Treasure of Trevlyn: A Story of the Days of the Gunpowder Plot by - (red queen ebook txt) 📗

has visited places against which he was warned. Tyrrel knows this. Tyrrel knows how to turn to his advantage everything of like nature. Tyrrel will give him up at the moment when hue and cry is being made for all concerned in this matter. He will give him up, and men will bear witness where and how he was seized, where and how he has been seen before this. Men's minds will be all aflame with rage and fear. The wildest tale will obtain credence, and there be nothing so wild in what they may truly say of Cuthbert Trevlyn. The Tower gates will close upon him, and they will only open to him when he is led forth to die. Have I not lived long enough to know that? If he he not saved tonight, nothing can avail to save him afterwards."

Jacob felt a strange thrill run through him at these words,

"And why dost thou tell me this, of all men, woman? What can I do to save him?"

He saw that she had raised her face as if to strive to scan the expression on his; but the darkness foiled her, neither could he see aught but the gleam of her dark eyes.

"I come to thee because time presses, and I know not where else to turn. Thou hast been his friend before; wilt thou play a friend's part now, even if it be fraught with peril?"

Jacob paused a few seconds before replying, and then said simply, "What can I do?"

"I will tell thee," answered Esther, speaking rapidly. "Cuthbert Trevlyn lies bound in a house not far away. Tomorrow, so soon as the news of the plot is noised abroad, and all is in commotion to discover the conspirators, he will be delivered up to those who are searching for these; and if thou knewest as much as I, thou wouldst know that nothing then can save him. But there be yet twelve hours before this can happen, and if he can be rescued within those twelve hours, and lodged with me in my house at Budge Row, I will undertake to hide him so well till all hue and cry be past and over that none shall find him; and before the glad Yuletide season has come to rejoice men's hearts, he shall be free to go where he will and show his face with the best of them."

This and much more did the eager gipsy pour into Jacob's astonished ears as he stood in the shadow of the deep porch. Every detail of the capture was made known to him, the whole plot laid bare, as she had heard it from the lips of the men who had borne Cuthbert ashore, and had then been so cunningly plied with heating liquor by the astute old woman that they had babbled freely of those very things that Tyrrel would fain have had held secret as the grave, at least for twenty-four hours longer.

Jacob listened, and as he listened his mind was strangely stirred. Here was his rival in deadly peril of his life; and if Cuthbert were once to be removed from his path, had not Cherry almost promised, in time, to be his wife? And had he not done all he knew to warn Cuthbert from just those friendships and associations which had ended by placing him in this terrible peril? Could anything more be looked for from him? What did this strange woman think that he could accomplish?

Cuthbert was truly his friend and comrade. He had proved it once by risking his life to aid and abet him. But now what could he do? And surely in these perilous times, when all men knew they must walk warily, it behoved him to take heed to his steps.

"And what can I do?" he asked, as the woman paused.

"Art thou willing to strive to save him at some peril to thyself?"

Jacob paused for a full minute. A host of tumultuous feelings rushed and surged through his brain. A thousand conflicting impulses swayed him as he revolved the situation with all the rapidity of quickened thought.

It was but a minute, yet it seemed like an hour to him before he placed his hand upon that of the eager woman and answered steadily:

"I am willing."

She clutched his hand and held it fast.

"My heart did not deceive me. I knew that thou wert a true man. Jacob Dyson, listen to my words, and take good heed to them, and I will strive so to work that no harm shall befall thee, albeit I may not deny that thou mayest stand in some jeopardy. Take and put on this long cloak that I carry beneath my arm; wrap it well about thee, and turn up its collar that it hide well thy face. Pull thy hat down over thy eyes--so. And now take this ring and put it upon thy finger. I have told thee where Cuthbert Trevlyn is lodged this night. Go to the house and ask speech of Master Dibbler. When thou seest him, show him that ring, and tell him that Esther, the wise woman, has sent thee with it, and that she desires him to let thee have a brief interview alone with his prisoner, who has something to say to thee for me of the utmost value to all. Show not thy face, show only the ring, and unless I be greatly deceived, he will take thee to the prisoner forthwith, and lock thee up together alone. The rest thou canst almost divine. Thou must lose no time, but cut the cords that bind him, wrap him in this cloak--ye are much of a height--and so muffled he may well pass out in the darkness unheeded. Thou must stay behind in the prison bound as he was bound. In the morning thou wilt be given over to the officers of the law; for I misdoubt me much that Dibbler will ever find out the trick that has been played upon him. He never saw Cuthbert Trevlyn before, and I trow he has scarce observed what manner of man he is. He will deliver thee up for one Cuthbert Trevlyn, taken in the act of fleeing to the house where the conspirators are known to lodge.

"But I trow that thy father's solid weight and Esther's acuteness can soon serve to set thee at liberty. It will be an easy task to show to all the world that thou art Jacob Dyson, a peaceable citizen, and that thou hast been wrongly apprehended in the place of another. Thou wilt be able to prove that at the hour men say they found thee in that dark garden thou wast in thy father's or thine uncle's house. Thy captors will be confused, enraged, bewildered, and will have to explain how they come to be striving to pass off Jacob Dyson as an evil doer. I trow well we can turn the tables upon them.

"Art thou willing to run some small peril for the sake of serving one who has called thee friend?"

And Jacob, with scarce a moment's pause, replied once again, "I am willing."

Next day, the morning of the fifth of November, 1605, dawned clear and still and bright. London was early astir; for was not the King to open his Parliament that day? and were not hundreds of loyal subjects going to line the streets to see the procession pass? If the King were not popular, the Prince of Wales, Prince Henry, was; and a sight was a sight to the simple folk of those days, even as it is still.

But before long a curious change passed over the face of the London streets. A breath--a whisper--a fleeting rumour. Men's faces grew suddenly pale and grave. Women uttered sharp exclamations of astonishment and fear. People pressed together into knots, asking quick questions and awaiting the answers in breathless expectancy; and presently the whispers became changed into open cries and shouts. A smothered roar as of execration and menace ran through the streets, being caught up and passed from mouth to mouth till it was surging along like a great billow on the wide Atlantic sea.

"A Popish plot!"

"Down with the Papists!"

"Blow up the whole of the Parliament Houses--King, Lords, and Commons!"

"Heard ye ever the like before?"

"Taken in the very act--with the barrels of gunpowder laid ready, and the slow match in his hand!"

"A curse upon all such vile traitors!"

"A curse upon the Papists!"

"England will never know peace till she has destroyed them root and branch!"

"Down with the whole brood of them--the vile scum of a vile race!"

These and many like cries were passing through the crowd in great, gusty shouts. Martin Holt, standing at the door of his shop, was just taking in the sense of what was passing, and anxiously ruminating upon the fact that Cuthbert had not been home all the night, when Abraham Dyson came hurrying up, his face pale with apprehension.

"Good Master Holt, hast thou heard the news?"

"That the Papists have tried to blow up the Parliament Houses? Can such a thing be true?"

"As true as daylight; there is no manner of doubt as to that. But I have another trouble than that, which has been happily averted. They tell me my boy has been arrested as one of the conspirators. I am about to hasten down and inquire into it.

"Martin, where is Cuthbert?"

"I have not seen him since yesterday noon. What of him? Has he--the foolish, hot-headed boy--gone and run himself into like trouble?"

"I know not--I know naught of him; only methought they might be together, being such friends and comrades."

"They were not together yesterday. Jacob supped here with us, and knew naught of Cuthbert then."

"Supped with you last night! that is good hearing, for men say he was seen at Lambeth then, where the conspirators have some house or hiding place. Come thou with me, good Martin, I prithee. I must take solid men to witness for my lad, and bring him safely home again. I warrant me he has had no dealings in yon foul plot! He hates the very name of Popery and scheming."

Martin Holt lost not a moment in following his friend, who was joined by several sober and wealthy merchants and citizens, all deeply indignant at the insult received by their friend in this false accusation of Jacob.

Abraham Dyson had been warned by a letter of the peril in which his son stood--a mysteriously-worded letter, but one that was evidently written by a friend. It advised that Dyson and his friends should proceed at once to Westminster and Whitehall, where the excitement would be at its height, and there they would find Jacob in custody, and would doubtless be able speedily to obtain his release, since he had been arrested under a misapprehension.

Whoever had written these words had plainly known the truth; for when the city men had almost fought their way through a howling and wildly excited mob, they found Jacob, bound and guarded, being just led before some of the King's counsellors under the name of Cuthbert Trevlyn.

"That man is not Cuthbert Trevlyn," shouted old Abraham, forgetting all but the fact that he saw his son in dire and deadly peril. "This is a quiet and peaceable Protestant citizen. Here am I with friends ready to testify the same. This is nothing but another vile Papist plot, conceived to strive to do to death good, peaceable citizens of contrary faith, while they escape the doom their traitorous villainy deserves!"

This astute form of vindication roused another clamour from the crowd. There was not the smallest difficulty in proving Jacob's identity, in establishing his innocence and obtaining his release. Those in authority saw at once that it was one of those innumerable cases of mistaken identity, and did not even care to waste time over a close inquiry into circumstances; whilst the bystanders were raving in indignant sympathy, perfectly convinced that it was all the work of the conspirators themselves, to try to throw their own guilt upon the innocent, and by no means sure that their own turn might not come next.

When Jacob was free, he turned to the King's counsellors and said:

"If it please you gentlemen to fall upon and make away with a notable band of outlaws and robbers, who have long made the terror of the southern roads, they be all beneath your very hand today--gathered together in an old barge not far above Lambeth, where they be waiting the issue of this day's work, knowing far more about it than peaceable and well-minded men should do. Tyrrel is the name of the leader, and he and the best part of his band will hold high revel there this night. They will fall an easy prey in your hands if it please you to send and take them."

The crowd shouted in delight. There was no love lost between the citizens of London and those freebooters who made all travel so perilous,