CHAPTER XIV
JACOB AND THE JEWELS
Cicely's journey to London was strange enough to her, who never before
had travelled farther than fifty miles from her home, and but once as
a child spent a month in a town when visiting an aunt at Lincoln. She
went in ease, it is true, for Commissioner Legh did not love hard
travelling, and for this reason they started late and halted early,
either at some good inn, if in those days any such places could be
called good, or perhaps in a monastery where he claimed of the best
that the frightened monks had to offer. Indeed, as she observed, his
treatment of these poor folk was cruel, for he blustered and
threatened and inquired, accusing them of crimes that they had not
committed, and finally, although he had no mission to them at the
time, extracted great gifts, saying that if these were not forthcoming
he would make a note and return later. Also he got hold of tale-
bearers, and wrote down all their scandalous and lying stories told
against those whose bread they ate.
Thus, long before they saw Charing Cross, Cicely came to hate this
proud, avaricious and overbearing man, who hid a savage nature under a
cloak of virtue, and whilst serving his own ends, mouthed great words
about God and the King. Still, she who was schooled in adversity,
learned to hide her heart, fearing to make an enemy of one who could
ruin her, and forced Emlyn, much against her will, to do the same.
Moreover, there were worse things than that since, being beautiful,
some of his companions talked to her in a way she could not
misunderstand, till at length Thomas Bolle, coming on one of them,
thrashed him as he had never been thrashed before, after which there
was trouble that was only appeased by a gift.
Yet on the whole things went well. No one molested the King's Visitor
or those with him, the autumn weather held fine, the baby boy kept his
health, and the country through which they passed was new to her and
full of interest.
At last one evening they rode from Barnet into the great city, which
she thought a most marvellous place, who had never seen such a
multitude of houses or of men running to and fro about their business
up and down the narrow streets that at night were lit with lamps. Now
there had been a great discussion where they were to lodge, Dr. Legh
saying that he knew of a house suitable to them. But Emlyn would not
hear of this place, where she was sure they would be robbed, for the
wealth that they carried secretly in jewels bore heavily on her mind.
Remembering a cousin of her mother's of the name of Smith, a
goldsmith, who till within a year or two before was alive and dwelling
in Cheapside, she said that they would seek him out.
Thither then they rode, guided by one of the Visitor's clerks, not he
whom Bolle had beaten, but another, and at last, after some search,
found a dingy house in a court and over it a sign on which were
painted three balls and the name of Jacob Smith. Emlyn dismounted and,
the door being open, entered, to be greeted by an old, white-bearded
man with horn spectacles thrust up over his forehead and dark eyes
like her own, since the same gypsy blood ran strong in both of them.
What passed between them Cicely did not hear, but presently the old
man came out with Emlyn, and looked her and Bolle up and down sharply
for a long while as though to take their measures. At length he said
that he understood from his cousin, whom he now saw for the first time
for over thirty years, that the two of them and their man desired
lodgings, which, as he had empty rooms, he would be pleased to give
them if they would pay the price.
Cicely asked how much this might be, and on his naming a sum, ten
silver shillings a week for the three of them and their horses, that
would be stabled close by, told Emlyn to pay him a pound on account.
This he took, biting the gold to see that it was good, but bidding
them in to inspect the rooms before he pouched it. They did so, and
finding them clean and commodious if somewhat dark, closed the bargain
with him, after which they dismissed the clerk to take their address
to Dr. Legh, who had promised to advise them so soon as he could put
their business forward.
When he was gone and Thomas Bolle, conducted by Smith's apprentice,
had led off the three horses and the packbeast, the old man changed
his manner, and conducting them into a parlour at the back of his
shop, sent his housekeeper, a middle-aged woman with a pleasant face,
to make ready food for them while he produced cordials from squat
Dutch bottles which he made them drink. Indeed he was all kindness to
them, being, as he explained, rejoiced to see one of his own blood,
for he had no relations living, his wife and their two children having
died in one of the London sicknesses. Also he was Blossholme born,
though he had left that place fifty years before, and had known
Cicely's grandfather and played with her father when he was a boy. So
he plied them with question after question, some of which they thought
it was not to answer, for he was a merry and talkative old man.
"Aha!" he said, "you would prove me before you trust me, and who can
blame you in this naughty world? But perhaps I know more about you all
than you think, since in this trade my business is to learn many
things. For instance, I have heard that there was a great trying of
witches down at Blossholme lately, whereat a certain Abbot came off
worst, also that the famous Carfax jewels had been lost, which vexed
the said holy Abbot. They were jewels indeed, or so I have heard, for
among them were two pink pearls worth a king's ransom--or so I have
heard. Great pity that they should be lost, since my Lady there would
own them otherwise, and much should I have liked, who am a little man
in that trade, to set my old eyes upon them. Well, well, perhaps I
shall, perhaps I shall yet, for that which is lost is sometimes found
again. Now here comes your dinner; eat, eat, we'll talk afterwards."
This was the first of many pleasant meals which they shared with their
host, Jacob Smith. Soon Emlyn found from inquiries that she made among
his neighbours without seeming to do so, that this cousin of hers bore
an excellent name and was trusted by all.
"Then why should we not trust him also?" asked Cicely, "who must find
friends and put faith in some one."
"Even with the jewels, Mistress?"
"Even with the jewels, for such things are his business, and they
would be safer in his strong chest than tacked into our garments,
where the thought of them haunts me night and day."
"Let us wait a while," said Emlyn, "for once they were in that box how
do we know if we should get them out again?"
On the morrow of this talk the Visitor Legh came to see them, and had
no cheerful tale to tell. According to him the Lord Cromwell declared
that as the Abbot of Blossholme claimed these Shefton estates, the
King stood, or would soon stand, in the shoes of the said Abbot of
Blossholme, and therefore the King claimed them and could not
surrender them. Moreover, money was so wanted at Court just then," and
here Legh looked hard at them, "that there could be no talk of parting
with anything of value except in return for a consideration," and he
looked at them harder still.
"And how can my Lady give that," broke in Emlyn sharply, for she
feared lest Cicely should commit herself. "To-day she is but a
homeless pauper, save for a few pounds in gold, and even if she should
come to her own again, as your Worship knows, her first year's profits
are all promised."
"Ah!" said the Doctor sadly, "doubtless the case is hard. Only," he
added, with cunning emphasis, "a tale has just reached me that the
Lady Harflete has wealth hidden away which came to her from her
mother; trinkets of value and such things."
Now Cicely coloured, for the man's little eyes pierced her like
gintlets, and her powers of deceit were very small. But this was not
so with Emlyn, who, as she said, could play thief to catch a thief.
"Listen, Sir," she said, with a secret air, "you have heard true.
There were some things of value--why should we hide it from you, our
good friend? But, alas! that greedy rogue, the Abbot of Blossholme,
has them. He has stripped my poor Lady as bare as a fowl for roasting.
Get them back from him, Sir, and on her behalf I say she'll give you
half of them, will you not, my Lady?"
"Surely," said Cicely. "The Doctor, to whom we owe so much, will be
most welcome to the half of any movables of mine that he can recover
from the Abbot Maldon," and she paused, for the fib stuck in her
throat. Moreover, she knew herself to be the colour of a peony.
Happily the Commissioner did not notice her blushes, or if he did, he
put them down to grief and anger.
"The Abbot Maldon," he grumbled, "always the Abbot Maldon. Oh! what a
wicked thief must be that high-stomached Spaniard who does not scruple
first to make orphans and then to rob them? A black-hearted traitor,
too. Do you know that at this moment he stirs up rebellion in the
north? Well, I'll see him on the rack before I have done. Have you a
list of those movables, Madam?"
Cicely said no, and Emlyn added that one should be made from memory.
"Good; I'll see you again to-morrow or the next day, and meanwhile
fear not, I'll be as active in your business as a cat after a sparrow.
Oh, my rat of a Spanish Abbot, you wait till I get my claws into your
fat back. Farewell, my Lady Harflete, farewell. Mistress Stower, I
must away to deal with other priests almost as wicked," and he
departed, still muttering objurgations on the Abbot.
"Now, I think the time has come to trust Jacob Smith," said Emlyn,
when the door closed behind him, "for he may be honest, whereas this
Doctor is certainly a villain; also, the man has heard something and
suspects us. Ah! there you are, Cousin Smith, come in, if you please,
since we desire to talk with you for a minute. Come in, and be so good
as to lock the door behind you."
Five minutes later all the jewels, whereof not one was wanting, lay on
the table before old Jacob, who stared at them with round eyes.
"The Carfax gems," he muttered, "the Carfax gems of which I have so
often heard; those that the old Crusader brought from the East, having
sacked them from a Sultan; from the East, where they talk of them
still. A sultan's wealth, unless, indeed, they came straight from the
New Jerusalem and were an angel's gauds. And do you say that you two
women have carried these priceless things tacked in your cloaks,
which, as I have seen, you throw down here and there and leave behind
you? Oh, fools, fools, even among women incomparable fools! Fellow-
travellers with Dr. Legh also, who would rob a baby of its bauble."
"Fools or no," exclaimed Emlyn tartly, "we have got them safe enough
after they have run some risks, as I pray that you may keep them,
Cousin Smith."
Old Jacob threw a cloth over the gems, and slowly transferred them to
his pocket.
"This is an upper floor," he explained, "and the door is locked, yet
some one might put a ladder up to the window. Were I in the street I
should know by the glitter in the light that there were precious
things here. Stay, they are not safe in my pocket even for an hour,"
and going to the wall he did something to a panel in the wainscot
causing it to open and reveal a space behind it where lay sundry
wrapped-up parcels, among which he placed, not all, but a portion of
the gems. Then he went to other panels that opened likewise, showing
more parcels, and in the holes behind these he distributed the rest of
the treasure.
"There, foolish women," he said, "since you have trusted me, I will
trust you. You have seen my big strong-boxes in my office, and
doubtless thought I keep all my little wares there. Well, so does
every thief in London, for they have searched them twice and gained
some store of pewter; I remember that some of it was discovered again
in the King's household. But behind these panels all is safe, though
no woman would ever have thought of a device so simple and so sure."
For a moment Emlyn could find no answer, perhaps because of her
indignation, but Cicely asked sweetly--
"Do you ever have fires in London, Master Smith? It seems to me that I
have heard of such things, and then--in a hurry, you know----"
Smith thrust up his horned spectacles and looked at her in mild
astonishment.
"To think," he said, "that I should live to learn wisdom out of the
mouth of babes and sucklers----"
"Sucklings," suggested Cicely.
"Sucklers or sucklings, it means the same thing--women," he replied
testily; then added, with a chuckle, "Well, well, my Lady, you are
right. You have caught out Jacob at his own game. I never thought of
fire, though it is true we had one next door last year, when I ran out
with my bed and forgot all about the gold and stones. I'll have new
hiding-places made in the masonry of the cellar, where no fire would
hurt. Ah! you women would never have thought of that, who carry
treasure sewn up in a nightshift."
Now Emlyn could bear it no longer.
"And how would you have us carry it, Cousin Smith?" she asked
indignantly. "Tied about our necks, or hanging from our heels? Well do
I remember my mother telling me that you were always a simple youth,
and that your saint must have been a very strong one who brought you
safe to London and showed you how to earn a living there, or else that
you had married a woman of excellent intelligence--though it is plain
now she has long been dead. Well, well," she added, with a laugh,
"cling to your man's vanities, you son of a woman, and since you are
so clever, give us of your wisdom, for we need it. But first let me
tell you that I have rescued those very jewels from a fire, and by
hiding them in masonry in a vault."
"It is the fashion of the female to wrangle when she has the worst of
the case," said Jacob, with a twinkle in his eye. "So, daughter of
man, set out your trouble. Perchance the wisdom that I have inherited
from my mothers straight back to Eve may help that which your mothers
lacked. Now, have you done with jests. I listen, if it pleases you to
tell me."
So, having first invoked the curse of Heaven on him if ever he should
breathe a word, Emlyn, with the help of Cicely, repeated the whole
matter from the beginning, and the candles were lighted ere ever her
tale was done. All this while Jacob Smith sat opposite to them, saying
little, save now and again to ask a shrewd question. At length, when
they had finished, he exclaimed--
"Truly women are fools!"
"We have heard that before, Master Smith," replied Cicely; "but this
time--why?"
"Not to have unbosomed to me before, which would have saved you a week
of time, although, as it happens, I knew more of your story than you
chose to tell, and therefore the days have not been altogether wasted.
Well, to be brief, this Dr. Legh is a ravenous rogue."
"O Solomon, to have discovered that!" exclaimed Emlyn.
"One whose only aim is to line his nest with your feathers, some of
which you have promised him, as, indeed, you were right to do. Now he
has got wind of these jewels, which is not wonderful, seeing that such
things cannot be hid. If you buried them in a coffin, six foot
underground, still they would shine through the solid earth and
declare themselves. This is his plan--to strip you of everything ere
his master, Cromwell, gets a hold of you; and if you go to him empty-
handed, what chance has your suit with Vicar-General Cromwell, the
hungriest shark of all--save one?"
"We understand," said Emlyn; "but what is your plan, Cousin Smith?"
"Mine? I don't know that I have one. Still, here is that which might
do. Though I seem so small and humble, I am remembered at Court--when
money is wanted, and just now much money is wanted, for soon they will
be in arms in Yorkshire--and therefore I am much remembered. Now, if
you care to give Dr. Legh the go-by and leave your cause to me,
perhaps I might serve you as cheaply as another."
"At what charge?" blurted out Emlyn.
The old man turned on her indignantly, asking--
"Cousin, how have I defrauded you or your mistress, that you should
insult me to my face? Go to! you do not trust me. Go to, with your
jewels, and seek some other helper!" and he went to the panelling as
though to collect them again.
"Nay, nay, Master Smith," said Cicely, catching him by the arm; "be
not angry with Emlyn. Remember that of late we have learned in a hard
school, with Abbot Maldon and Dr. Legh for masters. At least I trust
you, so forsake me not, who have no other to whom to turn in all my
troubles, which are many," and as she spoke the great tears that had
gathered in her blue eyes fell upon the child's face, and woke him, so
that she must turn aside to quiet him, which she was glad to do.
"Grieve not," said the kind-hearted old man, in distress; "'tis I
should grieve, whose brutal words have made you weep. Moreover, Emlyn
is right; even foolish women should not trust the first Jack with whom
they take a lodging. Still, since you swear that you do in your
kindness, I'll try to show myself not all unworthy, my Lady Harflete.
Now, what is it you want from the King? Justice on the Abbot? That
you'll get for nothing, if his Grace can give it, for this same Abbot
stirs up rebellion against him. No need, therefore, to set out his
past misdeeds. A clean title to your large inheritance, which the
Abbot claims? That will be more difficult, since the King claims
through him. At best, money must be paid for it. A declaration that
your marriage is good and your boy born in lawful wedlock? Not so
hard, but will cost something. The annulment of the sentence of
witchcraft on you both? Easy, for the Abbot passed it. Is there aught
more?"
"Yes, Master Smith; the good nuns who befriended me--I would save
their house and lands to them. Those jewels are pledged to do it, if
it can be done."
"A matter of money, Lady--a mere matter of money. You will have to buy
the property, that is all. Now, let us see what it will cost, if
fortune goes with me," and he took pen and paper and began to write
down figures.
Finally he rose, sighing and shaking his head. "Two thousand pounds,"
he groaned; "a vast sum, but I can't lessen it by a shilling--there
are so many to be bought. Yes; £1000 in gifts and £1000 as loan to his
Majesty, who does not repay."
"Two thousand pounds!" exclaimed Cicely in dismay; "oh! how shall I
find so much, whose first year's rents are already pledged?"
"Know you the worth of those jewels?" asked Jacob, looking at her.
"Nay; the half of that, perhaps."
"Let us say double that, and then right cheap."
"Well, if so," replied Cicely, with a gasp, "where shall we sell them?
Who has so much money?"
"I'll try to find it, or what is needful. Now, Cousin Emlyn," he added
sarcastically, "you see where my profit lies. I buy the gems at half
their value, and the rest I keep."
"In your own words: go to!" said Emlyn, "and keep your gibes until we
have more leisure."
The old man thought a while, and said--
"It grows late, but the evening is pleasant, and I think I need some
air. That crack-brained, red-haired fellow of yours will watch you
while I am gone, and for mercy's sake be careful with those candles.
Nay, nay; you must have no fire, you must go cold. After what you said
to me, I can think of naught but fire. It is for this night only. By
to-morrow evening I'll prepare a place where Abbot Maldon himself
might sit unscorched in the midst of hell. But till then make out with
clothes. I have some furs in pledge that I will send up to you. It is
your own fault, and in my youth we did not need a fire on an autumn
day. No more, no more," and he was gone, nor did they see him again
that night.
On the following morning, as they sat at their breakfast, Jacob Smith
appeared, and began to talk of many things, such as the badness of the
weather--for it rained--the toughness of the ham, which he said was
not to be compared to those they cured at Blossholme in his youth, and
the likeness of the baby boy to his mother.
"Indeed, no," broke in Cicely, who felt that he was playing with them;
"he is his father's self; there is no look of me in him."
"Oh!" answered Jacob; "well, I'll give my judgment when I see the
father. By the way, let me read that note again which the cloaked man
brought to Emlyn."
Cicely gave it to him, and he studied it carefully; then said, in an
indifferent voice--
"The other day I saw a list of Christian captives said to have been
recovered from the Turks by the Emperor Charles at Tunis, and among
them was one 'Huflit,' described as an English señor, and his servant.
I wonder now----"
Cicely sprang upon him.
"Oh! cruel wretch," she said, 'to have known this so long and not to
have told me!"
"Peace, Lady," he said, retreating before her; "I only learned it at
eleven of the clock last night, when you were fast asleep. Yesterday
is not this same day, and therefore 'tis the other day, is it not?"
"Surely you might have woke me. But, swift, where is he now?"
"How can I know? Not here, at least. But the writing said----"
"Well, what did the writing say?"
"I am trying to think--my memory fails me at times; perhaps you will
find the same thing when you have my years, should it please
Heaven----"
"Oh! that it might please Heaven to make you speak! What said the
writing?"
"Ah! I have it now. It said, in a note appended amidst other news,
for--did I tell you this was a letter from his Grace's ambassador in
Spain? and, oh! his is the vilest scrawl to read. Nay, hurry me not--
it said that this 'Sir Huflit'--the ambassador has put a query against
his name--and his servant--yes, yes, I am sure it said his servant too
--well, that they both of them, being angry at the treatment they had
met with from the infidel Turks--no, I forgot to add there were three
of them, one a priest, who did otherwise. Well, as I said, being
angry, they stopped there to serve with the Spaniards against the
Turks till the end of that campaign. There, that is all."
"How little is your all!" exclaimed Cicely. "Yet, 'tis something. Oh!
why should a married man stop across the seas to be revenged on poor
ignorant Turks?"
"Why should he not?" interrupted Emlyn, "when he deems himself a
widower, as does your lord?"
"Yes, I forgot; he thinks me dead, who doubtless himself will be dead,
if he is not so already, seeing that those wicked, murderous Turks
will kill him," and she began to weep.
"I should have added," said Jacob hastily, "that in a second letter,
of later date, the ambassador declares that the Emperor's war against
the Turks is finished for this season, and that the Englishmen who
were with him fought with great honour and were all escaped unharmed,
though this time he gives no names."
"All escaped! If my husband were dead, who could not die meanly or
without fame, how could he say that they were all escaped? Nay, nay;
he lives, though who knows if he will return? Perchance he will wander
off elsewhere, or stay and wed again."
"Impossible," said old Jacob, bowing to her; "having called you wife--
impossible."
"Impossible," echoed Emlyn, "having such a score to settle with yonder
Maldon! A man may forget his love, especially if he deems her buried.
But as he stayed foreign to fight the Turk, who wronged him, so he'll
come home to fight the Abbot, who ruined him and slew his bride."
There followed a silence, which the goldsmith, who felt it somewhat
painful, hastened to break, saying--
"Yes, doubtless he will come home; for aught we know he may be here
already. But meanwhile we also have our score against this Abbot, a
bad one, though think not for his sake that all Abbots are bad, for I
have known some who might be counted angels upon earth, and, having
gone to martyrdom, doubtless to-day are angels in heaven. Now, my
Lady, I will tell you what I have done, hoping that it will please you
better than it does me. Last night I saw the Lord Cromwell, with whom
I have many dealings, at his house in Austin Friars, and told him the
case, of which, as I thought, that false villain Legh had said nothing
to him, purposing to pick the plums out of the pudding ere he handed
on the suet to his master. He read your deeds and hunted up some
petition from the Abbot, with which he compared them; then made a note
of my demands and asked straight out--How much?
"I told him £1000 on loan to the King, which would not be asked for
back again, the said loan to be discharged by the grant to me--that
is, to you--of all the Abbey lands, in addition to your own, when the
said Abbey lands are sequestered, as they will be shortly. To this he
agreed, on behalf of his Grace, who needs money much, but inquired as
to himself. I replied £500 for him and his jackals, including Dr.
Legh, of which no account would be asked. He told me it was not
enough, for after the jackals had their pickings nothing would be left
for him but the bones; I, who asked so much, must offer more, and he
made as though to dismiss me. At the door I turned and said I had a
wonderful pink pearl that he, who loved jewels, might like to see--a
pink pearl worth many abbeys. He said, 'Show it;' and, oh! he gloated
over it like a maid over her first love-letter. 'If there were two of
these, now!' he whispered.
"'Two, my Lord!' I answered; 'there's no fellow to that pearl in the
whole world,' though it is true that as I said the words, the setting
of its twin, that was pinned to my inner shirt, pricked me sorely, as
if in anger. Then I took it up again, and for the second time began to
bow myself out.
"'Jacob,' he said, 'you are an old friend, and I'll stretch my duty
for you. Leave the pearl--his Grace needs that £1000 so sorely that I
must keep it against my will,' and he put out his hand to take it,
only to find that I had covered it with my own.
"'First the writing, then its price, my Lord. Here is a memorandum of
it set out fair, to save you trouble, if it pleases you to sign.'
"He read it through, then, taking a pen, scored out the clause as
regards acquittal of the witchcraft, which, he said, must be looked
into by the King in person or by his officers, but all the rest he
signed, undertaking to hand over the proper deeds under the great seal
and royal hand upon payment of £1000. Being able to do no better, I
said that would serve, and left him your pearl, he promising, on his
part, to move his Majesty to receive you, which I doubt not he will do
quickly for the sake of the £1000. Have I done well?"
"Indeed, yes," exclaimed Cicely. "Who else could have done half so
well----?"
As the words left her lips there came a loud knocking at the door of
the house, and Jacob ran down to open it. Presently he returned with a
messenger in a splendid coat, who bowed to Cicely and asked if she
were the Lady Harflete. On her replying that such was her name, he
said that he bore to her the command of his Grace the King to attend
upon him at three o'clock of that afternoon at his Palace of
Whitehall, together with Emlyn Stower and Thomas Bolle, there to make
answer to his Majesty concerning a certain charge of witchcraft that
had been laid against her and them, which summons she would neglect at
her peril.
"Sir, I will be there," answered Cicely; "but tell me, do I come as a
prisoner?"
"Nay," replied the herald, "since Master Jacob Smith, in whom his
Grace has trust, has consented to be answerable for you."
"And for the £1000," muttered Jacob, as, with many salutations, he
showed the royal messenger to the door, not neglecting to thrust a
gold piece into his hand that he waved behind him in farewell.
