Then Sir John had stopped suddenly.

"He cometh," he cried. "That is Mr. Lacel with his yeomen," and as the knight spoke Johnnie saw a little party upon horseback galloping towards them. Foremost of them was a bluff, bearded country gentleman, his face agitated and concerned.

"Good Sir John," said the gentleman as he reined up his horse, "I would not have had this happen for much money. I have mistook the hour, and was upon some county business with two of the justices at my house. Is it all over then? Hath Dr. Taylor suffered?"

"The runagate is stone dead," Shelton replied. "It is all over, and hath pa.s.sed off as well as may be, though I like not very much the demeanour of the people. But how do you, Mr. Lacel?"

"I do very well, thank you," the Sheriff answered, "but I hope much, Sir John, that this mischance of mine will not be accounted to me as being any lack of zeal to Her Grace."

Shelton waved his hand. "No," he said, "we know you very well, Mr.

Lacel. Lack of loyalty will never be put to your charge. But now, doubtless, you will entertain us, for we have ridden since early dawn, and are very tired."

Mr. Lacel's face shone with relief. "Come you, Sir John," he said, "come you with these gentlemen and your men forthwith to the Manor. You must indeed be weary and needing refreshment. But what of yonder?"

He pointed in front of him, and Sir John turned in his saddle.

A few hundred yards away a dense crowd was swaying, and above their heads even now was a column of yellow smoke.

"There is no need for you there, Mr. Lacel," Sir John replied. "The Sheriff of London and his men are doing all that is needful. I am here with mine, and we shall all be glad to taste your hospitality after this business. This,"--he made a little gesture of the hand towards Johnnie--"is Mr. Commendone, Sir Henry Commendone's son, of Kent, attached to the King's person, and here to-day to report of Dr. Taylor's burning to the Queen. This"--here he bowed towards Philip--"a Spanish n.o.bleman of high degree, who is of His Majesty's Gentlemen, and who hath ridden with us."

"Bid ye welcome, gentlemen," said Mr. Lacel, "and now, an ye will follow me, there is breakfast ready in the Manor, and you can forget this nasty work, for I doubt none of you like it better than myself."

With that the whole party had trotted onwards towards the Sheriff's house.

The men-at-arms were met by grooms and servants, and taken round to the b.u.t.tery. John, Shelton, and the King walked up the steps and into a great hall, where a long table was laid for their reception.

The King, whose demeanour to his host was haughty and indifferent, spoke no word at all, and Sir John Shelton was in considerable embarra.s.sment.

At all costs, the King's incognito must be preserved. Mr. Lacel was a Catholic gentleman of Suffolk, a simple, faithful, unthinking country squire, who, at the same time, had some local influence. It would never do, however, to let the Sheriff know that the King himself was under his roof, and yet His Highness's demeanour was so reserved and cold, his face so melancholy, frozen, and inscrutable, that Shelton was considerably perplexed. It was with a sense of great relief that he remembered the King spoke but little English, and he took Mr. Lacel aside while serving-men were placing chairs at the table, and whispered that the Don was a cold, unlikeable fellow, but high in the Royal favour, and must be considered.

"Not a testoon care I," Mr. Lacel answered. "I am glad to see ye, Sir John, and these Court gallants from Spain disturb me not at all. Now, sit ye down, sit ye down, and fall to."

They all sat down at the table.

The King took a silver cup of wine, bowed to his host, and sipped. His face was very yellow, his eyes dwindled, and a general air of cold and la.s.situde pervaded him. Suddenly he turned to Commendone, who was sitting by his side watching his master with eager and somewhat frightened attention.

"Senor," he said, in Spanish, "Senor Commendone, I am very far from well. The long ride hath tired me. I would rest. Speak to Sir John Shelton, and ask this worthy _caballero_, who is my host, if I may retire to rest."

Johnnie spoke at once to Mr. Lacel, explaining that the Spanish n.o.bleman was very fatigued and wished to lie down.

The Sheriff jumped up at once, profuse in hospitality, and himself led the way, followed by the King and Commendone, to an upper chamber.

They saw the King lie down upon the bed, and curtains pulled half-way over the mullioned windows of the room, letting only a faint beam of sunlight enter there.

"Thy friend will be all right now, Mr. Commendone," said the squire.

"These Spanish gentlemen are not over-strong, methinks." He laughed roughly, and Johnnie heard again, in the voice of this country gentleman, that dislike of Spain and of the Spanish Match, which his own father shared.

They went out of the room together, and Johnnie shrugged his shoulders--it was absolutely necessary that the ident.i.ty of the King should not be suspected.

"Well, well, Mr. Lacel," he said, linking his arm within his host's, and a.s.suming a friendly country manner--which, of course, came perfectly natural to him, "it is not for you and I to question or to make comment upon those gentlemen from over-seas who are in high favour in London just now. Let us to breakfast."

In a minute more they were sitting at the table, where Sir John Shelton was already busy with wine and food.

For a few minutes the three men ate in silence. Then Mr. Lacel must have from them every detail of the execution. It was supplied him with great vigour and many oaths by Sir John.

Mr. Lacel shook himself.

"I am indeed sorry," said he, "that I was not at the execution, because it was my bounden duty to be there. Natheless, I am not sorry for myself. To see a rogue or masterless man trussed up is very well, but Dr. Rowland Taylor that was Rector here, and hath in times past been a guest at this very table--well, I am glad I did not see the man die. Was a pleasant fellow, could wind a horn or throw a falcon with any of the gentry round, had a good l.u.s.ty voice in a chorus, and learning much beyond the general."

"Mr. Lacel, Mr. Lacel," Sir John Shelton said in a loud and rather bullying voice, "surely you have no sympathy nor liking for heretics?"

"Not I, i' faith," said the old gentleman at the top of the table, striking the thick oak with his fist. "I have been a good Catholic ever, and justice must be done. 'Twas the man I liked, Master Shelton, 'twas the man I liked. Now we have here as Rector a Mr. Lacy. He is a good Catholic priest, and dutiful at all his services. I go to Ma.s.s three times a week. But Father Lacy, as a man, is but a sorry scrub. He eateth nothing, and a firkin of ale would last him six months. Still, gentlemen, ye cannot live on both sides of a buckler. Poor Roly Taylor was a good, honest man, a sportsman withal, and well loved over the country-side--I am glad I saw not his burning. Certainly upon religion he was mad and very ill-advised, and so dies he. I trust his stay in purgation be but short."

Sir John Shelton put down his tankard with a crash.

"My friend," he said, "doth not know that His Grace of London did curse this heretic? I myself was there and heard it."

The ruffian lifted his tankard of wine to his lips, and took a long draught. His face was growing red, his eyes twinkled with half-drunken cunning and suspicion.

"Aye," he cried, "I heard it--'And by the authority of G.o.d the Father Almighty, and of the Blessed Virgin Mary, of St. Peter and Paul, and of the Holy Saints, we excommunicate, we utterly curse and ban, commit and deliver to the Devil of h.e.l.l, ye that have in spite of G.o.d and of St.

Peter, whose Church this is, in spite of holy saints, and in spite of our most Holy Father the Pope, G.o.d's Vicar here on earth, denied the truths of Holy Church. Accursed may ye be, and give body and soul to the Devil. We give ye over utterly to the power of the Fiend, and thy soul when thou art dead shall lie this night in the pains of h.e.l.l-fire, as this candle is now quenched and put out.'"

As he finished, Sir John knocked over a tall gla.s.s cruet of French vinegar, and stared with increasing drunkenness at his host.

Mr. Lacel, simple gentleman that he was, was obviously disgusted at his guest. He said very little, however, seeing that the man was somewhat gone in liquor, as Johnnie also realised that the stale potations of the night before were wakened by the new drink, and rising up into Shelton's brain.

"Well, well, Sir John," Mr. Lacel replied, "I am no theologian, but I am a good son of the Church, and have always been, as you and those at Court--those in high places, Sir John," he said it with a certain emphasis and spirit--"know very well."

The quiet and emphatic voice had its effect. Shelton dropped his bullying manner. He was aware, and realised that Mr. Lacel probably knew also, that he was but a glorified man-at-arms, a led captain, and not at all in the confidence of great people, nor acquainted with private affairs of State. He had been puffed up by his recent a.s.sociation with the King in his vile pleasures, but a clever ruffian enough, he saw now that he had gone too far.

He saw also that John Commendone was looking at him with a fixed and disdainful expression. He remembered that the young courtier was high in the good graces of the King and Queen.

"I' faith," he cried, with an entire change of manner--"I' faith, old friend Peter, I was but jesting; we all know thou art loyal to Church and State, their law. Mr. Commendone, I ask you, hast seen a more----"

Johnnie's voice cut into the man's babbling.

"Sir John," he said, "if I were you I would go upstairs and see how the Spanish gentleman doeth."

He looked very keenly, and with great meaning, at the knight.

Sir John pushed his chair from the table. "Spine of G.o.d," he cried thickly, "and I was near forgetting His Highness. I will to him at once."

He stumbled away from the table, pulled himself together, and, following Mr. Lacel's butler, who had just come into the hall, ascended the broad stairway.

Mr. Lacel looked very curiously at Johnnie.

"Sir," he said in a low voice, looking round the hall to see if any servant were within earshot, "that drunkard hath said more than he meant. I am not quite the country fool I seem to be, but least said is soonest mended. I have known Sir John Shelton for some years--a good man in the chase, a soldier, but a drunken fool withal. I know your name, and I have met your father at the Wool Exchange in London. We are both of Catholic houses, but I think none of us like what is going on now, and like to go on since"--here he dropped his voice almost to a whisper, and glanced upwards to the gallery which ran round the hall--"since Her Grace had wedded out of the kingdom. But we must say nothing. Who that gentleman upstairs is, I do not seek to know, but I tell you this, Mr.

Commendone, that, heretic or none, I go to-morrow morning to Father Lacy and give him a rose-angel to say ma.s.ses for the soul of a good dead friend of mine. I shall not tell him who 'tis, and he's too big a fool to ask, but----"