“The Chest is better than nothing,” said Captain Landor.
“Not good enough for these valiant men,” stormed my father. “And why should every seaman have a bit taken from his pay to help those who were wounded in the great fight? Nay, sir. It is the bounden duty of the Queen and this country to care for those who suffered. They gave for England. It is England’s turn to give to them.”
He was referring to the fund known as the “Chest at Chatham” which had been set up to compensate those who had suffered during the fight with the Armada.
“Any seaman who comes to my house,” declared my father, “will be cared for. They will find at Lyon Court that sanctuary England fails to give them.”
“There must be many of them.”
“So much the more reason to care for them,” said my father, his face scarlet with righteous indignation. “It has come to my ears that Philip of Spain has set aside 50,000 scudi for the relief of his wounded. Should the defeated be so well cared for and the victors dependent on their own poor sailors to help them?”
It was true of course that the Queen who loved to adorn her person with extravagant jewelled garments was often averse to spending money on her subjects who had given all but their lives to keep her on the throne.
“You may rest assured,” said my mother, “that any poor sailors who come to Lyon Court shall be fed.”
“We will see to it,” affirmed my father, for once in agreement with her.
I could see that the Landors were pleased to turn the conversation to other matters. Whether it was because they realized how unwise it was to criticize the Queen, even faintly, or whether they were so eager to talk of their future plans, I was not sure, but soon they were discussing the possibility of getting more ships afloat and what commodities could be picked up in the various ports of the world.
And so those pleasant days passed and it was time for us to return home. Before we did so my parents insisted that we return the Landor’s hospitality. They thought it would be an excellent idea if they visited us to celebrate the New Year.
NIGHT AT CASTLE PALING
WE SPENT OUR FIRST night at The Traveller’s Rest. My mother and I had debated whether to do this. It was hardly likely that we should meet the obnoxious Colum there again; and to avoid such a good and tried inn because we feared to, did not appeal to either of us.
The landlord was delighted to see us. The Oak Room was placed at our disposal; and there was no rude interruption that night. We enjoyed the landlord’s wholesome table and occupied his comfortable bed in the oak-panelled room. It was true I did awaken in the night and found myself half sleeping, half waking, listening for a thud against the window. Nothing happened. How could it? The man was far away.
We left next morning. The weather had changed; a wind had risen dispersing the mist and bringing rain clouds with it. We rode through a fine drizzle, less disturbing than a downpour it was true, but still impeding progress a little. It was dark very early and we decided that we would not delay putting up for the night, even if it meant making an extra day’s journey home.
We were riding through a winding lane—one of the grooms ahead of us and another behind when we heard the sound of horses’ hoofs. We had seen no one for the last two hours. “No one would be out on such a day,” said my mother, “unless it was absolutely necessary.”
The riders were clearly coming up behind us and we drew to the side of the hedge as they came nearer.
They were alongside; they had surrounded us. There were four men … with masks over the faces. Jennet gave a little scream and there was no doubt in any of our minds that they meant mischief for they carried cudgels and immediately began demanding our purses.
One of the grooms, attempting to remonstrate, was knocked from his horse, while a masked man snatched at my mother’s girdle which was of gold. She dealt him a sharp blow across the knuckles with her riding stock and he let out a cry of anger. He was temporarily taken aback.
“You are robbers,” she cried. “What you want is money. If you treat our persons ill it will go hard with you, I promise you. I will give you money if you will allow us to make our journey on in peace.”
The groom who had been thrown rose shakily to his knees and at that moment there was a shout from one of the robbers and again I heard the sound of a horse galloping towards us.
A voice shouted: “What goes?” It was a voice I recognized; I felt an immense relief and excitement. Colum Casvellyn came galloping up.
“By God,” he said, “you ladies are in distress. Get you gone, you villains.”
Although there were four villains and he was alone, yet I could sense their fear. One of them was very close to me … and then in the space of seconds he had seized my horse by its bridle and started off, taking me with him.
I tried to stop, but there was nothing I could do. I was being taken along at a breakneck speed, my horse firmly controlled by my captor, while the other three came thudding behind us.
I screamed out my protests but they went unheeded. The three unencumbered riders passed us, for naturally I impeded the speed of the one who held me. Then I heard the horse coming up behind us. We were being followed and I knew by whom.
My captor was not going to release me easily. We galloped on and on. Colum Casvellyn shouted to the man to stop. He was close behind but he did not catch up. He shouted what he would do to the man if he did not release my horse but still I was firmly held.
It seemed that we galloped for a long time. We went across a plain and along roads. We had lost the three masked men; it was now just a race between the man who had taken me and Colum Casvellyn.
Then my captor made his mistake. We had turned into a road, galloped headlong down it and had come to a wood. Ahead of us the trees started to grow thick and we must either enter the wood or turn and go back. If we did the latter we should be face to face with Colum Casvellyn.
We went towards the wood. Our speed was slowing down. I was released so suddenly that I almost fell and only just managed to pull up my horse. Colum Casvellyn was beside me. The other had disappeared.
“That was a chase,” he said.
“I suppose I must thank you,” I muttered.
“It might be gracious to. I have saved you from that villain. One can guess what his intentions were. I recognize you, of course. You are the lady of the oaken bedchamber.”
“You have done me a service and I thank you,” I said.
“It makes up perhaps for my recent discourteous behaviour.”
“It does. And if you will take me back to my mother and the rest of my party, I shall be most grateful and so will they.”
“We can try to find them,” he said.
“So you will help me.”
“I am at your service.”
“Thank you.”
He brought his horse close to mine. “You are trembling a little. It was an alarming experience, was it not? The villain! Would to God I could have laid hands on him. I’d have soon had him whimpering for mercy.”
“He has gone now and his fellow robbers with him. My mother will be very, very anxious.”
“That is something we cannot allow. Do you feel ready to ride on now?”
“It is what I wish. I must rejoin my mother quickly.”
“We must try to retrace our way. ’Tis not easy. I did not note the way we came.”
“You were riding when you heard the scuffle? Could we go to where you were then?”
“I cannot be completely sure. I heard the shouting and came across country. But we will try. Come, let us start. We must go quietly for it would not do for me to lose you now, you know. How dark it is. Are you ready?”