The Singer of Marley, etc

Chapter I

A PROTEST ANT spy!' The cards fell on the table with a soft, pattering click. The drawer, an Irish ' gossoon,' paused involuntarily in his progress across the sanded floor of the tavern. The room was low-ceiled ; it looked upon the stretch of green in the centre of Ennisbragh. The time was early spring, the hour near sunset, in the year of our Lord 1697. There were but few persons in the room. A country squireen or two ; a tall, thin, moustachioed man richly dressed, and aged some fifty years ; the speaker; and the object of his speech. The man who had spoken was young. He was tall and well built. His face was A handsome and sunburnt, his eyes hazel and excessively brilliant. He was dressed with extreme foppery. On his knee he held a guitar, to which he had been singing, and upon which he negligently strummed.

He sat at a table with the moustachioed man. The person at whom his speech was aimed had just entered. He was a short, young man, with small eyes, and a restless, inquisitorial manner. He halted and frowned. ' 'Tis pity that ye cannot enter a company of decent Irish gentlemen nowadays with out being plagued by such skulking, snuffling curs,' said the man with the guitar, punctuat ing his sentence by twangs of the instrument. The newcomer advanced to the table and stared at him. His assailant stared back again with a right good will. ' Would you know who this same garbage be, sir ? ' he said to the moustachioed man. ' 'Tis Master Quillan Custance, who, having an itch to spend his old father's money, hath turned Protestant and claims every maravedi. A dutiful son, and one who follows his King's example loyally.' The man with the little eyes swung on his heel. ' What !

I say ! Drawer, send the landlord hither.' The landlord arrived, bowing, to ask his honour's pleasure. ' Your house is known for a Papist's den, sir,' said the young man insolently ; ' but I marvel that ye suffer a bastard tavern singer to consort with gentlemen.' The man with the guitar dashed down the instrument, caught the other by the throat, and shook him. He flung him to the floor, sprang to the door, and raised his hand. ' You hear what he hath called me, gentlemen ? ' he said. ' Now, I'll pray your patience to hear me. You know, since Sarsfield and the flower of Ireland left us, what we — nay, you — I speak not for myself ; I am, as he hath said, a landless bastard — have suffered. Clause for clause the Treaty hath been broken. Since '95 your houses, your lands, your goods have been the sport of such knaves as he.

This fellow laid in formation whereby good Father Sheehy was hanged. He ousted Patrick Daly from the farm that he had held from his father's father. Now he turns Protestant to plunder the old man who gave him life. Now, here I stand and speak for mine own self. Hark ! you sneaking dog ! I say, Long live King James, who brings the true faith back, and damn all Dutchmen and Protestant spies.' The other had struggled to his feet. ' You impudent traitor ! you shall pay for this.' ' When you have Sir George Jenkin's ear, Master Custance ? All in good time. I pay your old father's score first. Clancy, lend me your whip.' The person addressed, a young squireen, threw the whip across. The young man caught it, and switched it through the air. The landlord was wringing his hands, and praying any saint who might be disposed to play the part of peacemaker to avert ruin from his house.

The other men, who were all Catholics, and had mostly suffered in purse or land at the hands of unscrupulous members of the Protestant faith, looked on with gleaming eyes. The case of the ousting of old Custance by his son had raised local feeling to boiling point. The tavern singer voiced the sentiments of the community. The tall thin man stroked his moustachios and smiled. The face of Custance was livid with rage and fear. ' What dost mean, sir ? Stand away from yon door.' ' By all means, Master Custance,' said the other, with a fierce laugh, ' to give mine arm free play. By your leave, good Master Spy.' He caught the man by the collar, and flung him on his knees. During the next five minutes the room was filled with the sound of the whistle of the whip, the stamping of feet, and the cries and oaths of Custance.

The noise was plainly to be heard from the street. When it was at its height, the tramp ot footsteps became audible. The door was flung open, and a tall, pompous - looking gentleman, followed by two constables, entered. ' Halt, there ! ' he commanded, in a tone of authority. ' Halt, in the King's name ! What ! good Master Custance the victim of a riotous assault ! Ha ! 'tis thou, Cosmo Lux, thou lewd brawler ! I might have guessed as much.' The young man flung Custance from him, and handed the whip to Clancy with a laugh and a bow. He bowed to Sir George Jenkin, J.P., and stood waiting the development of events. The magistrate assisted the assaulted person to rise with his own sacred hands. Custance was blue with pain, and foaming with passion. ' S — Sir George, worshipful sir,' he gasped, 1 1 have been violently and brutally assaulted by a dangerous brawling vagabond, who hath openly professed adherence to James Stuart and the Popish faith.

No man present hath reached forth a hand to assist me.' ' So ! ' said the magistrate. ' They shall be dealt with, good sir. Constable, arrest these brawlers in the King's name.' The tall, moustachioed man stepped forward. ' Pardon, monsieur,' he said in French, ' I trust that arrest doth not include me. I am son-in-law to M. le Marquis de l'Herault, monsieur ; and my business in this country is not political, but hath relation to family matters — the betrothal of my nephew, M. Yvon de l'Herault, with Mistress Bridget Fitzpatricke, daughter of Sir Lucius Fitzpatricke, a gentleman of this county.' The magistrate, being unable to speak French, was somewhat at a loss. The tavern singer bowed politely. ' I think I be the only man who speaks French, sir,' he said. ' If you permit me to interpret.' He did so, and the magistrate's face assumed an expression of amusingly conflict ing feelings. ' In that case, sir,' he said, ' we are kin.

I am Sir George Jenkin. My wife was formerly Lady Garryloe.' The position was awkward. Sir George felt it to be so. He was a staunch Protest ant, and so was his wife. The relations betwixt the Garryloe and De l'Herault families were strained. He pro fessed his dismay at the thought of including M. le Marquis de la Baussiere in his arrest, and besought him to visit his house. The Frenchman assumed the air of one who is desirous of paying a compliment, though at the cost of some personal incon venience. He protested that, though he had but an hour to spare, he could not deny himself the pleasure of kissing the hands of his wife's sister, nee Isabelle de l'Herault. The magistrate was apparently somewhat disconcerted by the suave acceptance of his invitation. He bowed, and turned his atten tion to the prisoners. ' Arrest them, constables,' he said. ' Bring these rioters away, one and all.

Put yonder villain Lux in fetters. Bring them to my house. I will sift the matter within the hour. At your service, sir.' This was to the Frenchman, who bowed profoundly, and strolled out after the party. He had his own reasons for being not a little interested in the fate of Cosmo Lux. The house of the magistrate stood at the outskirts of the little town. A lawn lay in front of it, sloping to the river ; at the side was a bowling green. The house was raised upon a terrace, whence steps led on to the lawn. Behind was a courtyard, surrounded by a high wall, in which was a small postern gate, opening upon a patch of common land. The house was semi-fortified, and in the courtyard stood the stocks, probably placed there for the correction of the servants and labourers of the estate. Upon the terrace was seated a young man.

He was slightly deformed. He had a beautiful face, with delicate features, plaintive eyes, and an expression of great thoughfulness and purity. He started as he saw the prisoners. His brows drew together, and he sighed. ' Garryloe,' said Sir George, ' this gentle man is the husband of thy mother's sister, the Marquise de la Baussiere. He is on the way to Sir Lucius Fitzpatricke. It seems that thy cousin De l'Herault weds with Fitzpatricke's daughter. 'Twas no time to nurse old grudges. I bade him thither. I trust thy mother will not be wroth. Speak to him for the Lord's sake, lad ; I speak no French.' The good Sir George's nervousness seemed to indicate that the wrath of the partner of his wedded joys was not a thing to be regarded without awe. His stepson, Lord Garryloe, approached the guest.

He addressed him in excellent French, expressing his pleasure at the unex pected meeting with a relative. While the twain chatted in low tones, Sir George was dealing with the offenders. They were six in number. Custance was the only witness. Sir George listened with an ominous frown. The guilt of the landlord in harbouring riotous and treasonable persons, the guilt or the squireen who had lent the principal culprit his weapon of assault, and that of Lux, were proved. The other men were not culpable, save that they were of the Catholic faith, and two of them had been at the siege of Londonderry, and had fought at Aughrim. Cosmo Lux stood erect, a defiant smile on his handsome face. Asked to defend his action, he replied that he did not deem that the thrashing of a spy who had plundered his aged father needed defence.

Asked whether he had spoken sedition, he replied, — ' Not in my view, sir. I cried, " Long live King James ! " I said that the Treaty had been broken, and I here proclaim myself a Catholic. If it be an offence against the law to hold to the faith of our fathers, nevertheless I avow it.' ' Enough,' said Sir George ; ' I will deal with thee anon, sir.' He called the principal constable, and they consulted in a low voice. The lawn was brilliantly green, the turt was rich, deep, mossy, daisy-spangled ; every little bud and twig seemed to be thrilling with the new life of spring. Between the magistrate and the little group of sullenly angry men there floated a tiny bright beetle, trying his wings in the slanting rays of the setting sun. The peace of Nature, the lovely free life of the little innocent things that lived in the air, and on the grass at his feet, struck upon the consciousness of but one person present.

Valentine, Lord Garryloe, was an ana chronism. In stirring times of war, intrigue and plunder, he fell a-thinking of the glint of the sunset light upon a beetle's wings. The Marquis de la Baussiere was watching the prisoners. Garryloe looked from the beetle to the grey-blue pallor of one of the faces, and became aware of the words Sir George was saying. ' The fine must be paid by noon to-morrow, Mr Clancy, or in default ye must suffer im prisonment. You, O'Ferral, will pay a like fine, and stand in the pillory next market day for the space of three hours. The rest are discharged save this turbulent and seditious fellow, of whom I shall make a most notorious and public example. We are come to a pretty pass, when a Papist stroller and singer of tavern catches can riotously assault an honest gentleman of repute.

He is com mitted into ward, Master Constable. See that at noon to-morrow he be conveyed to the public green of this town, and there shall he receive six hundred lashes. There after he shall stand in the pillory till sunset, when he shall be expelled the county, and warned that he shall hang if he return.' The man on whom the last appalling sentence had been pronounced, started. His face was pallid, and his hands were clenched. He made one unsuccessful effort to speak. Finally he bowed to the magistrate, and said, between his teeth, — ' I pray you, Sir George, convey to your lady my best thanks for her sentence.' Sir George's rubicund face turned purple. ' Thou impudent dog ! ' he shouted. ' Say another word and you shall pass the night i' the stocks.' ' We know a woman's mercy, sir,' said Lux, with a sneer. 'It spoke just now.

Madame's blood is as hot as her skin is dark. Pardon me, I have but my tongue. I wax shrewish.' Garryloe's eyes were troubled. The Marquis was asking for a translation, and he was loth to repeat the sentence that had been passed upon Lux. 1 Constable ! ' shouted Sir George, ' sit this fellow in the stocks till noon. Bar the gate lest any bring him meat or drink. Thou villain ! I will take such order with thee as shall silence thy scurrilous tongue. Take him away.' The prisoner was hauled towards the steps leading from the terrace. A constable, will ing to show his zeal, gave him a push to hasten his steps. He was unprepared, and would have been flung head foremost on the ground below had not Garryloe extended his hand and saved him. The eyes of the two young men met. ' I thank you, sir,' said the prisoner huskily.

Garryloe smiled. Lux disappeared. The other men slunk away ; Master Custance looking as crestfallen as the rest. The Marquis turned to Garryloe with many apologies. He expressed his sorrow at departure without an interview with his wife's sister. He took his leave, urging that Sir Lucius Fitzpatricke awaited him, and asserting his intention of paying his respects to his sister in-law before he left Ireland. Time did not so greatly press but that he retraced his steps, and carefully and ac curately noted the wall of the courtyard, the position of the gate, and the distance of the magistrate's house from the village. While he was thus engaged, Sir George turned indignantly to his stepson. ' The young devil ! ' he cried. ' Didst hear what he said, Garryloe ? I'll silence him to-morrow, trust me ! ' ' Good God, sir ! ' said Garryloe, his voice quivering with disgust, ' why not hang him outright ?

This sentence means death. Every man in the county will say what Lux said. It is my mother's doing. She was wronged and insulted, but to avenge her insults on Cosmo Lux is unworthy of a Garryloe or a De l'Herault.' ' He is a turbulent rufHer. Leave him to me. Ennisbragh will be civil enow to " Pro testant spies " after Master Cosmo hath been dealt with, I'll wager.' ' Is it within your power to sentence a man summarily to such a punishment ? ' ' Tush ! I could have hanged him. A Catholic dog ! Inciting the people to rebellion. Moreover, they have learnt of late not to question my doings.' ' 'Twould be more merciful to hang him.' ' Possibly ! It would not serve my purpose so well, though.' Garryloe turned away with a gesture of weariness and disgust. He walked to the courtyard where Lux was made fast in the stocks, and laid a kindly hand on his shoulder. ' Mr Lux, I am very sorry that you should have been placed here.' The prisoner started.

His face was white as the dead, and as Garryloe saw the ex pression of his eyes, he felt sickened. ' You are very good, sir,' said Lux. ' Not so. I cannot release you, but I can see that you do not fast till — you are released. I will see that you have both food and wine.' ' I cannot eat, thank you,' said Lux. His lips were parched and dry. ' You must do so ere night. I will bring you wine now.' He left the court, and pre sently returned bearing a cup. He approached Lux, and spoke very courteously. ' Will you drink this ? ' The prisoner took it. His hand shook. ' You are very good, sir. I do not know the name of the gentleman I have the honour of pledging.' Garryloe hesitated. 'You know my name. I have been in England, and we have never met. Never theless, I marvel that my crooked back did not tell you.

I am Garryloe.' Lux checked his hand as it carried the wine to his lips. The next moment he had dashed it in Garryloe's face. ' Understand by that that I will take naught from you ! ' he cried, panting. ' Flung like offal to a mangy cur ! Go to the husband of the woman who bore you to my father. Beg him to add another hundred lashes to to-morrow's tale. Come, if you will, with the rest of the herd to see them given. Till then, leave me in peace.' ' Since I cannot resent that insult, Cosmo, dost think 'twas generous to offer it ? ' ' Carry the tale of my impudence and your wrongs to Sir George Jenkin, my Lord Garryloe, he will avenge you.' ' Cosmo, is this my fault ? Be just.' There was no answer. Garryloe spoke earnestly. ' Why should thou and I quarrel ? If my father did not love thee much, he loved me not at all, because I am deformed.

If you have cause to feel lonely and bitter, God knoweth I have so too. Have I ever despised or flouted thee ? Have I ever seen thy face till this hour, when I have tried to act towards thee as — a brother should ? ' ' If you stand here beside me all night,' said Lux, fiercely, ' I shall not speak again. I have said my last word in this world. When murderers and murdered face each other at God's judgment bar, I'll speak ; till then, I'll hold my peace.' Garryloe stood watching the man's drawn, white face in silence. At length he spoke quietly. ' You are unjust. But I suppose that when men be treated unjustly they like to pass on the injustice. I do not feel thus myself, but mayhap 'tis natural. Good-bye.' He picked up the empty cup, and turned away with a sigh. When he had gone, the prisoner drooped his head on his breast and closed his eyes. He was shivering from head to foot, despite the mildness of spring air. B

Chapter II Monsieur Le Marquis De La Baussiere

rode" slowly out of the village. To a man versed in the chicaneries and intrigues of the Court of the fourteenth Louis, it was second nature to plot, plan, and play with men as with pawns in his own game. He was so much absorbed in his present scheme that he was surprised to see the chimneys of Sir Lucius Fitzpatricke's house silhouetted against the faint daffodil yellow of the evening sky. The house was a fine one. The fact that its owners had fallen upon evil days was obvious. It was proclaimed by every crumbling stone in the quaint pile, and by every blade of grass in the courtyard. Sir Lucius was standing at the door. He was evidently expecting his guest. He was a very fine, soldierly-looking man. His air .s and manner were those of one accustomed to be treated as a personage of consideration. ' Monsieur,' he said in French, ' you are late.

I trust that you have met with no ill adventures by the way ? ' Then in a tone of surprise he added, ' You are alone ? ' ' I am alone, monsieur,' said the other seriously. ' I regret most profoundly to tell you that I am alone. I am a bearer of ill tidings, Sir Lucius.' The face of his hearer grew grave. ' I await them, monsieur,' he said coldly. ' Enter, I beg of you.' The Marquis looked at him keenly. ' Nay, sir,' he said, ' it is not so. Beware, Sir Lucius, how you wrong the dead.' ' The dead ? ' ' Suffer me to enter, monsieur. I have come hither with a heavy heart.' Sir Lucius led the way into the hall. He waved his visitor to a chair, and seated himself. ' You say — the dead ? ' 'The dead. I grieve to tell you that my nephew, Yvon de l'Herault, hath met with his death here, on Irish soil.' ' Not by foul means ? ' ' By an accident.

When we were three leagues from Ennisbragh, his horse took fright at the firing of a gun. He bore his rider through a wayside copse. Yvon was flung against a tree — ' ' And killed ? ' ' He lived two hours, in unconsciousness. He lies dead in the house of a cotter, whither we carried him.' Sir Lucius shaded his eyes with his hand. ' Do you believe in fate, De la Baussiere ? The stars in their courses fight against me and mine.' ' I grieve, Sir Lucius, no less for you, and for Mademoiselle, than for myself and M. le Marquis de l'Herault. Yvon was a youth of promise. Though he was but three months from Martinique, he had made progress at Court. He was high in favour with the Duchesse du Maine. He was oft at Sceaux.' Sir Lucius rose. ' By your favour, Marquis, I will accom pany you to France, and break these tidings to my child.

Since these accursed laws, I must have a permit to go five miles from my house. I am mulcted in a heavy fine for having Bridget reared in Brittany at a convent.' ' Madame my wife is in retreat there, monsieur. She was at school where Mdlle. Fitzpatricke is at present being educated.' ' The kindness of Madame la Marquise will solace my poor girl, monsieur.' De la Baussiere cleared his throat. ' Monsieur,' he said, ' wheni Mademoiselle, your beautiful and charming daughter, so journed for a few days in Paris, Yvon saw her driving with Mddle. Sery de la Baussiere. Since that day he had no thought save for her. But she, being not yet in the world, hath never seen her proposed bridegroom.' ' True, monsieur.' ' M. de l'Herault, the father of Madame my wife, and of Yvon's late father, is very old.' 'Ay.' ' Too old to venture from Martinique for his grandson's wedding.' ' It is so, monsieur.' Sir Lucius looked surprised ' He is reputed to be — nay, is exceedingly rich.' ' That is also the case.' ' Failing his son, who is dead, he would naturally leave the Martinique estates to Yvon.' ' Yes.' 'Yvon being dead, they would go to his grandson, Garryloe.

He is the son of Isabelle Jenkin, formerly Lady Garryloe, and elder daughter of M. de l'Herault. Is not that fact ? ' ' Fact, monsieur. But what is this to me ? ' ' My wife is his youngest child, monsieur, and is unhappily childless. M. de l'Herault hath no more grandchildren.' ' Monsieur, I do not comprehend you.' ' Poor Yvon ! Had this most melancholy accident chanced, let us say three months after his marriage, his wife would have been dowered. Nay ! 'tis not impossible that he might have left a posthumous child, to inherit the Hayti and Martinique estates.' ' 'Tis useless thinking of that.' ' Is it so useless ? ' said De la Baussiere, softly. ' Monsieur ! What do you mean ? ' ' 'Tis a pity, monsieur, that Garryloe, a Protestant, should inherit a good Catholic's estates. 'Tis a pity that your fair daughter, who might grace a Court, should return to this land, whose people are oppressed by the sour, traitorous Dutchman. 'Tis a great pity that I, who have found a ' — he hesitated — ' a generous kinsman in young Yvon, should see this money go to the Garryloes, who have been estranged from us since Lady Garryloe changed her faith.

If Mddle. Bridget were but Yvon's widow, and M. le Marquis dead — and he is likely to die soon — you, the adviser of your widowed daughter ; she, one of the ornaments of the Court ; and I, the friend of both—' He paused. ' Monsieur will perhaps be so good as to speak plainly,' said Fitzpatricke, coldly. ' Plainly, then. The death of Yvon's father was recent. The wedding was to be of no great brilliancy. My wife is in Bretagne, where we have a retired hunting lodge on the Ranee. It is a place wherein a young couple might fitly spend the wedding night, and sojourn thereafter. Yvon is not known in Bretagne. Your daughter hath never seen him. No one here knows the name of the young man who lies dead three leagues hence. It is known that Yvon hath left Paris to be married, and will return with his bride.

What hinders another man from taking his place by the side of Mademoiselle ? ' ' Monsieur ! ' ' Hold, Sir Lucius ! If two men be young, slight, tall, dark-haired, 'tis hard by mere description to tell the twain apart.' ' M. le Marquis, no more ! If more be said, we must not continue friends.' ' Fie ! fie ! monsieur. We should but carry out the wishes of Yvon. Pooh ! man. You wrong your daughter. You do not know to what height a woman, young, rich, witty and beautiful, may rise at the French Court.' ' As high as the Montespan ? As the De Fontanges ? ' ' As high as the Montespan, whose sons are the nobility of France. As the De Fontanges, who flouted a queen unrebuked.' ' And died of poison at last.' ' Chut ! Sir Lucius. You ! A soldier ? 'Twas the fortune of war, man. Moreover, there are honourable alliances to be made by a lady who is wise, beautiful and virtuous in her widowhood.

Witness — the Maintenon. Virtue may be the mode yet.' Fitzpatrick rose and paced to and fro. ' 'Tis impossible. De l'Herault is known at Court and at Martinique.' ' But not in Brittany.' ' Could the man live his life in Brit tany ? ' ' That would depend, monsieur, on the length of his life.' ' Do you mean — poison ? ' De la Baussiere shot a swift glance at him. ' No, monsieur, I do not. I mean a per fectly fair and honourable bargain. If any man chooses to wed Mademoiselle, and dies three months later in an affair of honour, what is amiss there ? ' ' Who will kill him ? You ? ' ' No. If he picks the quarrel for himself, and the other man goes out with him in good faith. If he chance to fail to parry a thrust, and dies on the Breton sands — it may be suicide, it is not murder.' Sir Lucius seated himself, and drummed upon the floor with his foot.

He was not blinded by De la Baussiere's sophistries, but he desired to be blind. Poverty, gloom, a failing cause, hourly oppressions — these were powerful factors on the side of the Marquis. ' What man would wed to be run through the brisket in three months ? ' he asked contemptuously. ' A man who thereby gained a reprieve, and an honourable death.' Sir Lucius sprang up with an oath, and eyes flaming with anger. ' Zounds, sir ! do you venture to suggest that I give my daughter to some knave whose due is the gallows ? ' ' Nay, nay, Sir Lucius ; be not hot. God forfend that I should suggest aught that would dishonour Mademoiselle. 'Tis now my turn to listen. Who is Cosmo Lux? What is he to the Garryloes ? ' Sir Lucius hesitated. ' 'Tis a scandalous story.' ' I beseech you, monsieur, tell it me.' ' You are aware that the sister of Madame de la Bassiere was, though very beautiful, she was — she was — ' 'The devil to live with, monsieur.

Pre cisely. Go on, I pray you.' ' Her temper is violent. It was, in fact, the cause of the fall which has given Garryloe his crooked back. The late Lord Garryloe never forgave her for that. The better to insult and humiliate her, he took beneath his roof his bastard son Cosmo Lux. He spoilt and cockered him to madden his wife. She is said to have attempted to poison Lux, and Garryloe took the boy to France. Though he reared him in luxury, he did not love him. When his father died, the lad was left penni less. Within twenty-four hours of Lord Garryloe's death, which took place in Dublin, Lux was cast into the streets with every accompaniment of insult. He turned stroll ing player and tavern singer, and thus he hath lived. He consorts always with his former friends — the friends of his father.' * So !