Idonia: A Romance of Old London

CHAPTER XI

There was a press of people about the door as I went forth, which so hindered my passage as Mr. Nelson, who had started up in alarm of my sudden departure, caught me ere I had run a dozen paces, and would have reasoned me into returning. But I would not be led thus nor listen either, and so telling him 'twas a man I greatly desired to have speech of that I followed, shook myself free, and jostled hardly through the throng. To my joy I could yet see the tall figure of my unknown adversary about a stone's cast ahead of me and walking swiftly. But the main part of the shops being now closed, there was but scant light to serve me in my chase, and more than once I feared I had lost him or ever he got half-way to the new tower by the Bridge end. Nevertheless, by that time I had arrived pretty near, and, indeed, soon trod so close in his steps, that I could hear the jar of his hanger against the buckle of his belt; but it being no part of my design to accost him in so public a place, I fell back a little, and when he passed under the bow of the gate-house, where a pair of great lanterns hung suspended, I made as if to tighten a lace of my shoe, bending low, lest upon a sudden return he should observe me; which, however, he did not, but went straight forward. I had supposed it probable he would go off to the left hand, that is, westward, towards Baynards Castle, wherein, as I already knew, he had his lodging; and was greatly surprised, therefore, when, a little way up the street, he turned sharply to the right hand, behind St. Magnus' Church, where the street goes down very steep, and is moreover ill paved and (at such an hour) exceeding darksome. The gallant descended this hill at a great pace, while I for my better concealment followed him somewhat more tardily as being secure of his escape thence, where there was but a scantling of folk about the lane from whom he was very easily to be distinguished, they being ill-habited and of the common sort. In such manner we proceeded a great way, passing in our course by two or three alleys that led down to the Thames, of which I could perceive the gleam of the water, yet so narrowly visible that the sight of it was as a blade of steel hung up between the houses. All this quarter of the City I was perfectly ignorant of, my knowledge being limited to such parts of it only as I had traversed betwixt the Bridge and Fetter Lane, if I except Serjeant's Inn in Fleet Street, which to my cost I had come to know pretty well.

Whereto my exact intention reached, I should have found it difficult to determine, but a settled hatred of the man possessed me, beside some motions of fear (I confess now) that his continued espial had stirred within me; and under the influence of fear, much more than of hatred, we be ever apt to run into an excess of cruelty. Thus I remember well enough the coolness with which I rehearsed my attack upon him, and the considerations I maintained in my mind for and against the waylaying him before he could stand upon his defence. Overrunning him with a critical eye, I could not but admire his great stature and apparent strength, to which I had to add a probable skill in fence, that I lacked, having never been lessoned therein, though I had sometimes played a heat or two with Simon, using a pair of old foils we found one day in the stable loft at home. Notwithstanding, this defect weighed nothing against my will, but rather exalted the desire I had to prove my courage upon him, whose advantage was so every way manifest.

A great moon hung above the Thames, but obscured now and then by wreaths of river mist that a light wind lifted the edge of, yet could not sustain the bulk to drive it. There was no sound but that my enemy made with his accoutrements; for I, lurking along in the black shadows, made none, and the street was now everywhere void. All went pat to my purpose, and I loosened my sword in its sheath. Then I crossed the road.

But even as I did so, my man came to a sudden stand before an old and very ruinous house, having a porch of stone, and within that a door with a grid, whereon I presently heard him give a great sounding rap with the pummel of his sword. And so unexpected was that act of his (though why it surprised me I know not) that I stood quite still in the full light, nor could for my life put into execution my policy that he had thus distracted. The place wherein we had come I saw was near under the Tower, of which I could, by the dim light, perceive the undistinguished mass thwarting the bottom of the lane; and the house to which the man demanded admittance was the last upon the left hand this side the open space before the Tower. He remained some while, half hid in the deepness of the gateway above which a lantern swung with a small creaking noise; the light of it very dim and uncertain. After my first arrestment of surprise, I had gone aside a little, yet not so far but I could observe him, and the low oaken door at which he knocked. There was something about this silent and decayed building which I liked not, though I could not tell precisely wherefore; for indeed it showed signs of some magnificence in the design of it, but now was all worn out by neglect and foul usage; being turned over to the occasions of shipmen and victuallers for storage of such things as their craft requires. Thus, from a fair great window above, that I judged to have been formerly the window of the hall or chapel, was now projected a sort of spars and rough tackle, by which the slender mullion-shafts were all thrust aside and broken. A high penthouse of timber with a crane under, stood by the wall a little beyond, for the getting of goods in and out, with other such disfigurements and mean devices of trade as a mansion is wont to suffer that great folk have left, and small folk have cheaply come by.

At length I saw the grid within the door to be slid back very warily, and by a faint access of light perceived that the porter bore a taper, as being unwilling to open to one he knew not, or could not see.

A conversation followed, but too low for me to hear it, though I suspected from the manner of the man that he first besought, and after demanded, admittance, which was still denied. Then he betook himself (as I could tell) to threats, and was soon come to wresting at the bars of the grid, like a madman. But that which sent me from my ambush was a cry of terror from the other side of the gate at his so insolent violence; for it was the cry of a girl.

I strode forward.

"Hold!" I said, mastering myself to speak within compass, and taking the man by the sleeve with my right hand, while I kept my left upon my poniard. "A guest that is not welcome should have the modesty to know it."

He swung round with a great oath, and would have flung me off, had I not gripped him pretty hard.

"Ay, is it thou?" said he, when he saw who held him, and I could swear there was some respect in his way of saying it.

"I come to tell you that your barber hath left his shop in Fetter Lane," said I.

He laughed aloud at that, high, and with a sort of scornful jollity, though his narrow eyes never left my face.

"You are right, lad," he said heartily, "and I have sought him everywhere since."

"Even upon London Bridge," said I, nodding.

"Even there," replied the dark man.

"I have myself some skill in that sort," I said, "so if the hour be not too late for shaving we will get to business straightway."

"As you will," said he, indifferently. "But now, to leave this schoolboy humour a little, and seeing I have no quarrel with you nor yet know (as I told you before) your name even, were it not better you should state your grievance against me if you have one, as I suppose you deem yourself to stand upon some right in thus constraining me?"

The while he was speaking thus and in such easy parlance as I had before noted was proper to him, my thoughts had returned to that girl's cry I had heard behind the grid, and looking about swiftly, I saw the gate itself now opened a small way, and the girl's form within the opening in a posture of infinite eagerness. So taken with this sight was I, that insensibly I slacked my hold of the man, who suddenly withdrew his arm and stood away jeering.

"The door is open," I said, in a low voice, and putting my hand on my sword; "wherefore do you not enter?"

"I will do so," said he, and before I could hinder him, he had swept me aside with a great buffet, and run forward to the gate. Cursing my lack of readiness to repel him, I drew at once and followed him, while the maid, who at his approach had fled backward, pushed to the door; yet not so quick—the hinges turning heavily—but he prevented her, thrusting in his arm betwixt the post and the door, and had gained his purpose easily, had not I sprung upon him from behind and so hindered him that his hand was caught and crushed, ere he could release himself.

"I owe you small thanks for that, Mr. Denis," said he, gravely, when he had flung the door open and got his hand free; and by his disdain of continuing the pretence not to know my name, I saw we were come into the lists as open foes.

"You owe somewhat elsewhere," said I, "and that is amends to this lady for your discourtesy," and as I spoke I looked across to where she stood in the hall, a distance off from us twain, by the foot of the great stair. A light from some lamp, hung aloft out of sight, diffused itself about her, so that she stood clear from the obscurity which wrapped all else; and by that light I knew her for the maid I sought, and would thank, and did already supremely love. The light falling directly from above lay upon her hair and seemed to burn there, so splendid a shining did it make. Of her face and body, the most of which was dim in shadow, I could yet discern the exceeding grace and lithe bearing. Her hands were outspread in terror for our clamorous intrusion, and I thought by her swaying she was about to swoon. But small leisure had I to proffer service, or indeed to do aught but return to my guard, which I resumed none too soon, for the tall man had drawn his great sword already and now caught up a piece of sailcloth from the rummage about the hall, wrapping it about his injured arm.

"So it would seem you know her, too, Mr. Denis," he let slip in a voice of some wonder, and I thought paused upon the question how we were become acquainted.

"Have a care!" I cried, and so thrust at him without further parley.

He caught the blow easily enough on his blade, turning it aside. "Country play!" he muttered, and was content to let me recover myself ere he took me in hand. However, I had the good luck to drive him a pace or two backward, amidst the stuff that lay there about, bales and cordage and the like, which hampered him not a little, though for the rest I could not touch him; whereas he did me whenever he listed, but so far without great harm. Yet notwithstanding his disdainful clemency, or rather because of it, I lost all sense of the odds we matched at, and laid about me with increasing fury, so that, for all he was so expert and cool a swordsman, I kept him continually busy at the fence and sometimes put him to more art than he would have wished to use, in order to defend himself from my assaults.

Now the hall where we fought thus, was, as I have said, full of all sorts of impediments and ship's furniture, and was, besides, very low and lighted by nothing but the gleam of the stair-lamp at the far end, so that though we both lost advantage by these hindrances, yet his loss was the greater; for with due light and space he could have ended when he chose; but now was forced to expect until I should abate somewhat of my persistence ere he did so; which, seeing I bled more than at first, he no doubt looked for presently. And so indeed did I; but the expectation seconded my little art in such sort that I broke down his guard and, before I was aware, had caught him high up in the breast, by the shoulder, and I could have laughed for pleasure as I felt the steel sink in. Howbeit 'twas a flesh wound only, and thus no great matter, as I knew; but it served to put him quite from his coolness, and as well by his manner of fetching his breath, I could tell he was distressed, as by his level brow that he meant to be rid of me. But then—

"Oh, stay it here, gentlemen," cried the girl, who saw that we breathed a space, though we still kept our points up and ready to be at it anew. "If the watch pass now, you will be certainly apprehended as you go forth. Have pity of each other," she said, and came forward almost between us. "And you, sir" (to me), "if you do thus because he would have entered here, I thank you. But now let him go, I pray you, as he shall promise no further to offend."

You may imagine how this talk of my letting him go, who was a thousand times the better swordsman, angered my antagonist.

"Ay, Mistress Avenon," he said, in that wicked, scorning voice he had, "we shall stay it here surely to please you. But yet there be some slight formalities accustomed to be used which must first be done; and after I will go."

"What be those formalities you speak of?" she asked, with an apparent gladness that the worst was past.

"Just that I must kill him," said the dark man, very quietly between his teeth.

"Good mistress," I cried out, for I was persuaded he spake truth and dreaded lest she should see what in pity of her womanhood I would should be hid, "go aside now. Go to your chamber." But to the man I whispered, "Come without into the street."

"There spoke a coward," was his word, and drawing back upon his ground he swung up his sword arm to the height, and husbanding the weight of his whole body, stood poised to cut me down. I saw the blow coming, even in the dark, and despairing to avoid it, let drive right forward, at the same moment muffling up my eyes in the sleeve of my idle arm, for the terror of death was upon me then. Our swords sang.... But even as I struck I knew that a miracle had been wrought, for his sword never fell. Sick with amazement I opened my eyes, to see him go over amongst the bales, where he sank down with a great sobbing cry. His sword hung quivering from a rafter of the ceiling, which it had bitten into by the blade's breadth. His tallness of stature, and hardly I, had overthrown him and left me victor.

"God be praised!" I said very low, when I perceived and could believe how matters had gone; but "God have mercy!" whispered the maid.

I turned about.

"You had best go, Mistress Avenon," I said. "The rest must be my work."

"You will not surrender yourself?" she asked, very white.

"If he be dead…" I began, but could not finish for trembling.

"He is not dead, I think," she interrupted hastily, and went back to the stair, whence she soon returned with the lamp, which she set down upon a hogshead, and then bent over the wounded man.

"A kerchief," she said, briefly, "a scarf; something linen if you have it."

I tore off a strip from my sleeve and with that she staunched the worst. We made a compress of my band, drenching it in cold water, and for tightness buckled my belt upon it, which I gave her.

"There is burnt wine in yonder firkin," she said, and I fetched a draught in the cup of my two hands.

When he sighed we looked at each other, and I said—

"Who is he?"

"It is Master Guido Malpas," she whispered, and added, "I am glad you have not killed him."

But that speech went near spoiling all, seeing that I had gone into that tourney her champion.

"Ay, there would have been another tale to tell," I returned very bitterly, "had your rafters been set but a span higher."

"Oh, you mistake me, Mr. Denis (I think they call you so)," said she, and bent low over the wounded man again. "I mean I am glad your kindness to me hath not run so far as you must needs have wished to recall it."

It is a maid's voice more than her words that comforts a man, and so, scarce had she spoken but I saw I had misjudged her.

"Denis is my name," I said eagerly, "but tell me yours now."

"You have heard it, and used it too," she answered smiling. "'Tis Avenon."

"Ay, but the other?" I cried.

She paused before she told me "Idonia."

"He loves you?" I said very quick, and nodded toward Malpas.

"He saith so."

"Doth he often trouble you thus?"

"I fear him," she said so low I could scarce hear her.

"But your father?" said I, "or your brothers? Have you none to protect you?"

"My father was slain in a sea-battle long since," she told me, "when he went in the Three Half Moons with others that traded with the Seville merchants, but falling in with a fleet of Turkey, they were nearly all taken prisoners, but my father was killed."

"You were a child then?" I asked her, and she said she was but an infant; and that her mother was long since dead also, and that she had no brothers.

She seemed as though she were about to add more, but just then the sick man revived, opening his eyes and gazing upon us as one that seemed to consider how we twain should be together in such a place. I got up from where I had been kneeling beside him and stood to stretch myself; but was surprised to find how painful my own hurts were, which I had almost forgotten to have received. I suppose Idonia saw me flinch, for she suddenly cried out, "Mr. Denis, Mr. Denis, I will come to you," and leaving Malpas where he lay, rose and came over to me, when she took me very gently by the arm and made me sit, as indeed I needed little persuasion to do. Howbeit I was (as I have said) scarcely scratched, and should have felt foolish at the elaborate business she made of it, had not her hair been so near to my lips.

But presently, and while we were thus employed, she with dressing my hurts, and I with such and such affairs, Idonia whispered—

"Doth he know where you lodge?"

"Yes," said I, "he discovered the place to-night," and told her where it was, and of the kindness Master Gregory had shown me.

"I knew not his name," she interrupted me hurriedly, while making pretence to busy herself with the tightening a bandage, "nor of what authority he were that took you from me when you were hurt before; but he looked at me as at one that would not use you well, and in the end spoke something roughly to me, so that I dared not follow you. Ah! these upright staid men!" she added with a world of bitterness; but then, "Now your lodging is known, you must leave it straightway, sir."

"I am not used to run away," said I, more coldly than I had meant to do, and she said no more. When we looked up Malpas had gone.

We looked at each other without speaking for admiration of the strength and secrecy he had shown in thus stealing off.

"I must go too," I said presently, and saw her eyes widen in dismay.

"Beware of him!" she whispered. "He doth not forget. And see! he hath not neglected to take his sword;" as indeed, most marvellously, he had done.

"Well, he serves an honest gentleman," quoth I carelessly, "so that if I have cause to think he plots against my life, I shall lay my complaint before my lord Pembroke."

But she shook her head as doubting the wisdom, or at least the efficacy, of that, though she said nought either way, but led me soon after to the great oaken door (which Malpas had left ajar when he went) and set it wide. The night was very dark, with the moon now gone down into the bank of cloud, and so still that we heard a sentinel challenge one at the Bulwark Gate of the Tower. I thought too I heard the rattle of an oar against the thole, as though a boat put off from the Galley Quay a little below, but of that I was not sure.

"God keep you," I said to the maid; but when she did not answer me I looked down and saw she was weeping.

When I went away, I heard the bolt shoot into its rusted socket, and asked myself: how would my case stand now, had Idonia shot it, as she essayed to do, at the first?

CHAPTER XII

I know not yet (and I thank Heaven for my ignorance) what may be the peculiar weakness of old age, though I suspect it to lie in an excessive regard for life; but of youth I have proved it to be a contempt of life; which, despite the philosophic ring of the phrase, I do affirm to be a fault, though I am willing to allow that I mean a contempt, not of our own, but of another man's life, and a surprise that he should hold dear so vulgar a commodity.

Thus, as I walked away from the house of Idonia, I pondered long and carefully the small account that Mr. Malpas was of, and could not conceive how he had the monstrous impudency to cling so tight as he did to the habit of living, which (as a soiled shirt) he might well enough have now been content to exchange. Indeed, the more I thought upon the matter, the greater increased my sense of the absurdity that such a man should claim his share of the world, or rather (to select the essential quality of my complaint) his share of that corner of Thames Street where Idonia lived, which goeth by the name of Petty Wales. From thence, at all hazards, I was determined to exclude him. For had not Idonia said: "I fear him"? and that was enough for me. Indeed it seemed to elevate my jealousy into an obligation of chivalry, merely to remember that sallow-faced swaggerer that said he loved her. Simon Powell should have fitted me with some knight's part, methought, amidst his Peredurs and Geraints, and I would have proved myself worthy as the best of them.

But that was all very well. It was past ten o'clock, and when I got to London Bridge I found it barred against me and the watch within the gate-house snoring. I knocked twice or thrice pretty hard and at length woke the watch; but so angered was he at thus losing of his sleep, besides that he thought perhaps to recover upon his late remissness, that he flew into an unnecessary zeal of watchfulness, swearing I was some vagabond rogue, and, bidding me begone, shut the wicket in my face. In vain did I endeavour to make myself known, bawling my name through the gate, and Mr. Nelson's too; the porter had returned to his interrupted repose, and nothing on earth would move him again, for that night at least.

So after having launched one or two such observations as I thought befitted the occasion, I made the best of it I could, and turned away to seek for some cleanly house of receipt where I might pass the remainder of the night. Some while I spent in ranging hither and thither, without happening on such an hostelry as did please me (for I confess to a niceness in these matters); but at length, coming into a place where two streets met, I found there a very decent quiet house that answered to my wishes so well that I immediately entered and bespoke a chamber for the night. Here I slept exceeding soundly, and in the morning awoke, though yet sore from my scratches, yet otherwise refreshed and cheerful.

The better part of the travellers that had lain there were already up and away ere I arose, so that I had the room to myself almost, wherein I broke my fast, and, save for the lad that served me, held conversation with none other. Had I known in what fashion we were to meet later, I should no doubt have observed him with more closeness than I did, but I saw in a trice he was one that a groat would buy the soul of, and another groat the rest of him.

"'Twas late you came hither last night," he said as he set down my tankard beside me upon the table.