Kitabı oku: «Guy Fawkes: or, The Gunpowder Treason: An Historical Romance», sayfa 32

CHAPTER IX.
WHITEHALL

Such was the expedition used by Humphrey Chetham and Viviana, that they accomplished the journey to London in an extraordinarily short space of time. Proceeding direct to Whitehall, Viviana placed a letter in the hands of a halberdier, and desired that it might be given without delay to the Earl of Salisbury. After some demur, the man handed it to an usher, who promised to lay it before the Earl. Some time elapsed before the result of its reception was known, when an officer, accompanied by two sergeants of the guard, made his appearance, and commanded Viviana and her companion to follow him.

Crossing a wide hall, which was filled with the various retainers of the palace, who regarded them with a sort of listless curiosity, and ascending a flight of marble steps, they traversed a long corridor, and were at length ushered into the presence of the Earl of Salisbury. He was seated at a table, covered with a multitude of papers, and was busily employed in writing a despatch, but immediately stopped on their entrance. He was not alone. His companion was a middle-aged man, attired in a suit of black velvet, with a cloak of the same material; but as he sat with his back towards the door, it was impossible to discern his features.

“You may leave us,” said Salisbury to the officer, “but remain without.”

“And be ready to enter at a moment's notice,” added his companion, without altering his position.

The officer bowed, and retired with his followers.

“Your surrender of yourself at this time, Viviana Radcliffe,” said the Earl, “weighs much in your favour; and if you are disposed freely to declare all you know of the conspiracy, it is not impossible that the King may extend his mercy towards you.”

“I do not desire it, my lord,” she replied. “In surrendering myself, I have no other aim than to satisfy the laws I have outraged. I do not seek to defend myself, but I desire to offer an explanation to your lordship. Circumstances, which it is needless to detail, drew me into connexion with the conspirators, and I became unwillingly the depositary of their dark design.”

“You were guilty of misprision of treason in not revealing it,” remarked the Earl.

“I am aware of it,” she rejoined; “but this, I take heaven to witness, is the extent of my criminality. I held the project in the utmost abhorrence, and used every argument I was mistress of to induce its contrivers to abandon it.”

“If such were the case,” demanded the Earl, “what withheld you from disclosing it?”

“I will now confess what torture could not wring from me before,” she replied. “I was restrained from the disclosure by a fatal passion.”

“I suspected as much,” observed the Earl, with a sneer. “For whom?”

“For Guy Fawkes,” returned Viviana.

“God's mercy! Guy Fawkes!” ejaculated the Earl's companion, starting to his feet. And turning as he spoke, and facing her, he disclosed heavy but not unintellectual features, now charged with an expression of the utmost astonishment. “Did you say Guy Fawkes, mistress?”

“It is the King,” whispered Humphrey Chetham.

“Since I know in whose presence I stand, sire,” replied Viviana, “I will answer the interrogation. Guy Fawkes was the cause of my concealing my acquaintance with the plot. And more, I will confess to your Majesty, that much as I abhor the design, if he had not been a conspirator, I should never have loved him. His sombre and enthusiastic character first gave him an interest in my eyes, which, heightened by several important services which he rendered me, soon ripened into love. Linked to his fortunes, shrouded by the same gloomy cloud that enveloped him, and bound by a chain from which I could not extricate myself, I gave him my hand. But the moment of our union was the moment of our separation. We have not met since, and shall meet no more, unless to part for ever.”

“A strange history!” exclaimed James, in a tone that showed he was not unmoved by the relation.

“I beseech your Majesty to grant me one boon,” cried Viviana, falling at his feet. “It is to be allowed a single interview with my husband – not for the sad gratification of beholding him again – not for the indulgence of my private sorrows – but that I may endeavour to awaken a feeling of repentance in his breast, and be the means of saving his soul alive.”

“My inclinations prompt me to grant the request, Salisbury,” said the King, irresolutely. “There can be no risk in doing it – eh?”

“Not under certain restrictions, my liege,” replied the Earl.

“You shall have your wish, then, mistress,” said James, “and I trust your efforts may be crowned with success. Your husband is a hardy traitor – a second Jacques Clement – and we never think of him without the floor shaking beneath our feet, and a horrible smell of gunpowder assailing our nostrils. Blessed be God for our preservation! But whom have we here?” he added, turning to Humphrey Chetham. “Another conspirator come to surrender himself?”

“No, my liege,” replied Chetham; “I am a loyal subject of your Majesty, and a stanch Protestant.”

“If we may take your word for it, doubtless,” replied the King, with an incredulous look. “But how come you in this lady's company?”

“I will hide nothing from your Majesty,” replied Chetham. “Long before Viviana's unhappy acquaintance with Fawkes – for such I must ever consider it – my affections had been fixed upon her, and I fondly trusted she would not prove indifferent to my suit. Even now, sire, when all hope is dead within me, I have not been able to overcome my passion, but love her as devotedly as ever. When, therefore, she desired my escort to London to surrender herself, I could not refuse the request.”

“It is the truth, my liege,” added Viviana. “I owe Humphrey Chetham (for so this gentleman is named) an endless debt of gratitude; and not the least of my present distresses is the thought of the affliction I have occasioned him.”

“Dismiss it from your mind, then, Viviana,” rejoined Chetham. “It will not mitigate my sorrows to feel that I have added to yours.”

“Your manner and looks seem to give a warranty for loyalty, young sir," said the King. “But I must have some assurance of the truth of your statement before you are set at large.”

“I am your willing prisoner, my liege,” returned Chetham. “But I have a letter for the Earl of Salisbury, which may vouch perhaps for me.”

And as he spoke, he placed a letter in the Earl's hands, who broke open the seal, and hastily glanced at its contents.

“It is from Doctor Dee,” he said, “from whom, as your Majesty is aware, we have received much important information relative to this atrocious design. He answers for this young man's loyalty.”

“I am glad to hear it,” rejoined the King. “It would have been mortifying to be deceived by so honest a physiognomy.”

“Your Majesty will be pleased to attach your signature to this warrant for Viviana Radcliffe's committal to the Tower,” said Salisbury, placing a paper before him.

James complied, and the Earl summoned the guard.

“Have I your Majesty's permission to attend this unfortunate lady to the fortress?” cried Chetham, prostrating himself before the King.

James hesitated, but glancing at the Earl, and reading no objection in his looks, he assented.

Whispering some private instructions to the officer respecting Chetham, Salisbury delivered the warrant to him. Viviana and her companion were then removed to a small chamber adjoining the guard-room, where they remained for nearly an hour, at the expiration of which time the officer again appeared, and conducted them to the palace-stairs, where a large wherry awaited them, in which they embarked.

James did not remain long with his councillor, and as soon as he had retired, Salisbury summoned a confidential attendant, and told him to acquaint Lord Mounteagle, who was in an adjoining apartment, that he was now able to receive him. The attendant departed, and presently returned with the nobleman in question. As soon as they were alone, and Salisbury had satisfied himself they could not be overheard, he observed to the other,

“Since Tresham's committal to the Tower yesterday, I have received a letter from the lieutenant, stating that he breathes nothing but revenge against yourself and me, and threatens to betray us, if he is not released. It will not do to let him be examined by the Council; for though we can throw utter discredit on his statement, it may be prejudicial to my future designs.”

“True, my lord,” replied Mounteagle. “But how do you propose to silence him?”

“By poison,” returned Salisbury. “There is a trusty fellow in the Tower, a jailer named Ipgreve, who will administer it to him. Here is the powder,” he added, unlocking a coffer, and taking out a small packet; “it was given me by its compounder, Doctor Dee. It is the same, I am assured, as the celebrated Italian poison prepared by Pope Alexander the Sixth; is without scent or taste; and destroys its victim without leaving a trace of its effects.”

“I must take heed how I offend your lordship,” observed Mounteagle.

“Nay,” rejoined Salisbury, with a ghastly smile, “it is for traitors like Tresham, not true men like you, to fear me.”

“I understand the distinction, my lord,” replied the other.

“I must intrust the entire management of this affair to you,” pursued Salisbury.

“To me!” exclaimed Mounteagle. “Tresham is my brother-in-law. I can take no part in his murder.”

“If he lives, you are ruined,” rejoined Salisbury, coldly. “You must sacrifice him or yourself. But I see you are reasonable. Take this powder, and proceed to the Tower. See Ipgreve alone, and instruct him to drug Tresham's wine with it. A hundred marks shall be his reward when the deed is done.”

“My soul revolts from the deed,” said Mounteagle, as he took the packet. “Is there no other way of silencing him?”

“None whatever,” replied Salisbury, sternly. “His blood be upon his own head.”

With this, Mounteagle took his departure.

CHAPTER X.
THE PARTING OF VIVIANA AND HUMPHREY CHETHAM

Humphrey Chetham was so oppressed by the idea of parting with Viviana, that he did not utter a single word during their transit to the Tower. Passing beneath the gloomy archway of Traitors' Gate, they mounted the fatal steps, and were conducted to the guard-room near the By-ward Tower. The officer then despatched one of the warders to inform the lieutenant of Viviana's arrival, and telling Humphrey Chetham he would allow him a few minutes to take leave of her, considerately withdrew, and left them alone together.

“Oh! Viviana!” exclaimed Chetham, unable to repress his grief, “my heart bleeds to see you here. If you repent the step you have taken, and desire freedom, say so, and I will use every effort to liberate you. I have been successful once, and may be so again.”

“I thank you for your devotion,” she replied, in a tone of profound gratitude; “but you have rendered me the last service I shall ever require of you. I deeply deplore the misery I have occasioned you, and regret my inability to requite your attachment as it deserves to be requited. My last prayers shall be for your happiness; and I trust you will meet with some being worthy of you, and who will make amends for my insensibility.”

“Be not deceived, Viviana,” replied Chetham, in a broken voice; “I shall never love again. Your image is too deeply imprinted upon my heart ever to be effaced.”

“Time may work a change,” she rejoined; “though I ought not to say so, for I feel it would work none in me. Suffer me to give you one piece of counsel. Devote yourself resolutely to the business of life, and you will speedily regain your peace of mind.”

“I will follow your instructions implicitly,” replied Chetham; “but have little hope of the result you promise me.”

“Let the effort be made,” she rejoined; – "and now promise me to quit London to-morrow. Return to your native town, employ yourself in your former occupations; and strive not to think of the past, except as a troubled dream from which you have fortunately awakened. Do not let us prolong our parting, or your resolution may waver. Farewell!”

So saying, she extended her hand towards him, and he pressed it passionately to his lips.

“Farewell, Viviana!” he cried, with a look of unutterable anguish. “May Heaven support you in your trials!”

“One of them I am now enduring,” she replied, in a broken voice. “Farewell for ever, and may all good angels bless you!”

At this moment, the officer appeared, and announcing the approach of the lieutenant, told Chetham that his time had expired. Without hazarding another look at Viviana, the young merchant tore himself away, and followed the officer out of the Tower.

Obedient to Viviana's last request, he quitted London on the following day, and acting upon her advice, devoted himself on his return to Manchester sedulously to his mercantile pursuits. His perseverance and integrity were crowned with entire success, and he became in due season the wealthiest merchant of the town. But the blighting of his early affections tinged his whole life, and gave a melancholy to his thoughts and an austerity to his manner originally foreign to them. True to his promise, he died unmarried. His long and worthy career was marked by actions of the greatest benevolence. In proportion as his means increased, his charities were extended, and he truly became “a father to the fatherless and the destitute.” To him the town of Manchester is indebted for the noble library and hospital bearing his name; and for these admirable institutions by which they so largely benefit, his memory must ever be held in veneration by its inhabitants.

CHAPTER XI.
THE SUBTERRANEAN DUNGEON

Regarding Viviana with a smile of savage satisfaction, Sir William Waad commanded Jasper Ipgreve, who accompanied him, to convey her to one of the subterranean dungeons below the Devereux Tower.

“She cannot escape thence without your connivance,” he said; “and you shall answer to me for her safe custody with your life.”

“If she escapes again, your worship shall hang me in her stead," rejoined Ipgreve.

“My instructions from the Earl of Salisbury state that it is the King's pleasure that she be allowed a short interview with Guy Fawkes,” said the lieutenant, in a low tone. “Let her be taken to his cell to-morrow.”

The jailer bowed, and motioning the guard to follow him with Viviana, he led the way along the inner ward till he arrived at a small strong door in the wall a little to the north of the Beauchamp Tower, which he unlocked, and descended into a low cavernous-looking vault. Striking a light, and setting fire to a torch, he then led the way along a narrow gloomy passage, which brought them to a circular chamber, from which other passages diverged, and selecting one of them, threaded it till he came to the door of a cell.

“Here is your dungeon,” he said to Viviana, as he drew back the heavy bolts, and disclosed a small chamber, about four feet wide and six long, in which there was a pallet. “My dame will attend you soon.”

With this, he lighted a lamp, and departing with the guard, barred the door outside. Viviana shuddered as she surveyed the narrow dungeon in which she was placed. Roof, walls, and floor were of stone; and the aspect of the place was so dismal and tomb-like, that she felt as if she were buried alive. Some hours elapsed before Dame Ipgreve made her appearance. She was accompanied by Ruth, who burst into tears on beholding Viviana. The jailer's wife had brought a few blankets and other necessaries with her, together with a loaf of bread and a jug of water. While disposing the blankets on the couch, she never ceased upbraiding Viviana for her former flight. Poor Ruth, who was compelled to assist her mother, endeavoured by her gestures and looks to convey to the unfortunate captive that she was as much devoted to her as ever. Their task completed, the old woman withdrew, and her daughter, casting a deeply-commiserating look at Viviana, followed her, and the door was barred without.

Determined not to yield to despondency, Viviana knelt down, and addressed herself to Heaven; and, comforted by her prayers, threw herself on the bed, and sank into a peaceful slumber. She was awakened by hearing the bolts of her cell withdrawn, and the next moment Ruth stood before her.

“I fear you have exposed yourself to great risk in thus visiting me," said Viviana, tenderly embracing her.

“I would expose myself to any risk for you, sweet lady,” replied Ruth. “But, oh! why do I see you here again? The chief support of Guy Fawkes during his sufferings has been the thought that you were at liberty.”

“I surrendered myself in the hope of beholding him again,” rejoined Viviana.

“You have given a fond, but fatal proof of your affection,” returned Ruth. “The knowledge that you are a captive will afflict him more than all the torments he has endured.”

“What torments has he endured, Ruth?” inquired Viviana with a look of anguish.

“Do not ask me to repeat them,” replied the jailer's daughter. “They are too dreadful to relate. When you behold his shattered frame and altered looks, you will comprehend what he has undergone.”

“Alas!” exclaimed Viviana, bursting into tears, “I almost fear to behold him.”

“You must prepare for a fearful shock,” returned Ruth. “And now, madam, I must take my leave. I will endeavour to see you again to-morrow, but dare not promise to do so. I should not have been able to visit you now, but that my father is engaged with Lord Mounteagle.”

“With Lord Mounteagle!” cried Viviana. “Upon what business?

“Upon a foul business,” rejoined Ruth. “No less than the destruction of Mr. Tresham, who is now a prisoner in the Tower. Lord Mounteagle came to the Well Tower this evening, and I accidentally overheard him propose to my father to administer poison to the person I have named.”

“I do not pity their victim,” returned Viviana. “He is a double-dyed traitor, and will meet with the fate he deserves.”

“Farewell, madam,” said Ruth. “If I do not see you again, you will know that you have one friend in this fortress who deeply sympathizes with your afflictions.”

So saying, she withdrew, and Viviana heard the bolts slipped gently into their sockets.

Vainly, after Ruth's visit, did she try to compose herself. Sleep fled her eyes, and she was haunted all night by the image of Fawkes, haggard and shattered by torture, as he had been described by the jailer's daughter. Day and night were the same to her, and she could only compute progress of the time by her own feelings, judging by which, she supposed it to be late in the day when she was again visited. The bolts of her cell being withdrawn, two men clad in long black gowns, and having hoods drawn over their faces, entered it. They were followed by Ipgreve; and Viviana, concluding she was about to be led to the torture, endeavoured to string herself to its endurance. Though he guessed what was passing in her breast, Jasper Ipgreve did not care to undeceive her, but motioning the hooded officials to follow him with her, quitted the cell. Seizing each a hand, the attendants led her after him along a number of intricate passages, until he stopped before the door of a cell, which he opened.

“Be brief in what you have to say,” he cried, thrusting her forward. “I shall not allow you much time.”

Viviana no sooner set foot in the cell than she felt in whose presence she stood. On a stool at the further end of the narrow chamber, with his head upon his breast, and a cloak wrapped around his limbs, sat Fawkes. A small iron lamp, suspended by a rusty chain from the ceiling, served to illumine his ghastly features. He lifted his eyes from the ground on her entrance, and recognising her, uttered a cry of anguish. Raising himself by a great effort, he opened his arms, and she rushed into them. For some moments, both continued silent. Grief took away their utterance; but at length, Guy Fawkes spoke.

“My cup of bitterness was not sufficiently full,” he said. “This alone was wanting to make it overflow.”

“I fear you will blame me,” she replied, “when you learn that I have voluntarily surrendered myself.”

Guy Fawkes uttered a deep groan.

“I am the cause of your doing so,” he said.

“You are so,” she replied. “But you will forgive me when you know my motive. I came here to urge you to repentance. Oh! if you hope that we shall meet again hereafter – if you hope that we shall inherit joys which will requite us for all our troubles, you will employ the brief time left you on earth in imploring forgiveness for your evil intentions.”

“Having had no evil intentions,” replied Fawkes, coldly, “I have no pardon to ask.”

“The Tempter who led you into the commission of sin under the semblance of righteousness, puts these thoughts into your heart,” replied Viviana. “You have escaped the commission of an offence which must have deprived you of the joys of heaven, and I am thankful for it. But if you remain impenitent, I shall tremble for your salvation.”

“My account will soon be settled with my Maker,” rejoined Fawkes; “and he will punish or reward me according to my deserts. I have acted according to my conscience, and can never repent that which I believe to be a righteous design.”

“But do you not now see that you were mistaken,” returned Viviana, – "do you not perceive that the sword which you raised against others has been turned against yourself, – and that the Great Power whom you serve and worship has declared himself against you?”

“You seek in vain to move me,” replied Fawkes. “I am as insensible to your arguments as to the tortures of my enemies.”

“Then Heaven have mercy upon your soul!” she rejoined.

“Look at me, Viviana,” cried Fawkes, “and behold the wreck I am. What has supported me amid my tortures – in this dungeon – in the presence of my relentless foes? – what, but the consciousness of having acted rightly? And what will support me on the scaffold except the same conviction? If you love me, do not seek to shake my faith! But it is idle to talk thus. You cannot do so. Rest satisfied we shall meet again. Everything assures me of it. Wretched as I appear in this solitary cell, I am not wholly miserable, because I am buoyed up by the certainty that my actions are approved by Heaven.”

“I will not attempt to destroy the delusion, since it is productive of happiness to you,” replied Viviana. “But if my earnest, heartfelt prayers can conduce to your salvation, they shall not be wanting.”

As she spoke, the door of the cell was opened by Jasper Ipgreve, who stepped towards her, and seized her roughly by the hand.

“Your time has expired, mistress,” he said; “you must come with me.”

“A minute longer,” implored Fawkes.

“Not a second,” replied Ipgreve.

“Shall we not meet again?” cried Viviana, distractedly.

“Ay, the day before your execution,” rejoined Ipgreve. “I have good news for you,” he added, pausing for a moment, and addressing Fawkes. “Mr. Tresham, who I told you has been brought to the Tower, has been taken suddenly and dangerously ill.”

“If the traitor perishes before me, I shall die content,” observed Fawkes.

“Then rest assured of it,” said Viviana. “The task of vengeance is already fulfilled.”

She was then forced away by Ipgreve, and delivered by him to the hooded officials outside, who hurried her back to her dungeon.