Sweet Mace: A Sussex Legend of the Iron Times

“In with you,” cried Sir Mark to his followers; “in and get your garments dry. Master Cobbe, these men will have to be brought to book.”

He glanced round haughtily at the group of workpeople, who did not, however, seem much impressed either by him or his ways, for they merely nodded and whispered together, ending by broadly grinning at the figure cut by the two half-drowned men, who followed the founder into one of the stone furnace-sheds, where they were furnished with blankets to use as wrappers while their clothes were rapidly dried.

Sir Thomas shortly after left on foot, alleging that he was too much hurt by the saddle to attempt to mount again; and his horse was ridden back for him by one of the founder’s boys.

The worthy baronet and justice reached home looking very hot and weary, to be met on the step by his daughter.

“Where is Sir Mark?” she cried. “My dear, I left him at the Pool,” replied Sir Thomas, feebly, for the attack made by his daughter was sharp.

“Left him there? Did I not say thou wert to stay and bring him back?”

“But, my dear – ”

“Oh, out upon you!” cried Mistress Anne, stamping her foot in anger. “Fie, father, fie; I try so hard to do justice to thy house, and welcome our guest back as becomes his rank. I try to let him see that he is the visitor of a baronet, and what do you do, my father, but slight him – leave him to the care of these people at the foundry, for him to stay as he stayed before. It is a shame.”

Poor Sir Thomas tried to put on his magisterial air, but failed dismally, as he always did when he tried to do battle with his child. He could frighten his different domestics till they trembled in awe of his presence; but his daughter seemed to have so great an influence over him that he was fain to open and shut his lips in fish-like muteness, and obey her to the very letter.

It was a great relief to him then when Mistress Anne flounced out of the room, and he heard a door upstairs bang very loudly, being a signal that she had shut herself, angrily, in her own bower, as it was called by the maids.

“Poor child,” he muttered; “I fear her heart is set on this young knight.”

“What’s that you say?” exclaimed Dame Beckley, who had entered, and heard a part of his speech.

“I say, I fear me that her heart is set upon this young knight, my dear.”

“Tut – tut – tut. Yes, I suppose so,” replied the dame. “But the other day it was that Captain Gil.”

“Ay, she’s a headstrong girl,” said the baronet; “and we shall have much trouble with her yet. How much she takes after my family, to be sure!”

Dame Beckley glanced sidewise at her lord, but she did not speak; and then, hearing that Sir Mark had not returned, and that Sir Thomas did not know whether he would return, she fully divined how it was that the eruption of temper had taken place; and sighing, and wishing her daughter well wed, she retired to cull simples in the garden, and feel thankful that she had outgrown all such troubles of her own.

How Sir Mark played his Cards

There was news at the Pool-house next day that Culverin Carr’s ship had sailed; Jeremiah Cobbe hearing thereof from his man, Tom Croftly.

“Heaven send them a good voyage, master,” said the workman. “I hear the girt ship went down the river at daybreak, and there’s a brave deal of our work on board.”

“Yes,” said the founder, thoughtfully; and then he began thinking about Gil.

“He’s gone off, poor boy, and without a word of good-bye. I was rough enough to him yesterday, and yet he showed me a plan that is a little fortune in itself. Poor lad, I like him; but tut – tut; there, it can never be; Mace is no mate for him, and I’m glad that he has gone.”

He was busying himself soon after in seeing the big howitzer dragged back to the shelter of a shed, so as to be free to talk to Sir Mark, who had intimated or rather ordered him to be ready for a conference at ten of the clock; and, in spite of his bluff independence, there was that in his guest’s manner that made him rather uneasy, as much on his child’s account as upon his own.

“There’s something behind,” he said; “something I don’t understand; and, though I could fight him well enough in a fair and open quarrel, when they get to their diplomacy and policy, and underhanded-behind-your-back ways, I’m done.”

The thoughts of the previous day’s shell-firing, however, put Sir Mark out of his head; and he was thinking whether it would not be wise to have the howitzer out once more to try the same experiments, when Sir Mark, who had been waiting since breakfast to gain an interview with Mace, and quite in vain, now joined him by the edge-stone of the race.

For Mace had had hard work to maintain her composure at the morning meal; having heard, as she had from Janet only just before, that Gil’s ship had sailed.

She was not satisfied with their parting, for she felt in her heart that he would be troubled at the presence of Sir Mark, whose inopportune return had, as it were, cast a shadow on Gil’s last day.

“But he’ll trust me,” she said, with a satisfied smile; “and he may. There, I’ll fret no more, for time will make all smooth, no doubt.”

As to Sir Mark, she felt that she must be very plain with him, and trust to his being enough of a gentleman to cease what would degenerate into persecution if continued in face of her declaration that she could not listen to his suit.

So Mace brightened up, and told herself that there was no need to be at all uneasy about their guest, setting him down as a vain coxcomb, without giving him the credit for being, to gain his own ends, unscrupulous to a degree.

“Ah, Sir Mark,” exclaimed the founder, heartily; “I’ve seen thy two fellows, and a hearty breakfast has set them right. They are none the worse for their last night’s dip.”

“Bodily, perhaps not, Master Cobbe; but mentally I’ll vow that they are very ill. My followers are soldiers and gentlemen, and cannot suffer so great an affront without some heed. Those people with their leader will have to be hunted out of the place.”

“Thou’lt want ships to limit them now,” said the founder, drily; “for they are off to sea.”

“What! at sea? Why, they were here but now.”

“But now?”

“Well, last even,” said Sir Mark. “They cannot be gone.”

“Tut, man. Culverin Carr and his men work by night, when such as we are asleep. They were at the mouth of the river, where the sea beats on the sand-bar, before you woke this morning, I’ll be bound.”

“You seem to be well acquainted with their movements, Master Cobbe,” said Sir Mark.

“Not I,” was the reply. “When I’ve sold cargo to Captain Gil I ask no more except to have a written promise from him to pay me my money, which generally comes in sulphur and in Chinese salt. I never inquire into his sailings or comings-in. It is as well not, and they’re pretty secret over them, taking on board, sailing, and the like.”

“This is curious work, Master Cobbe, in his Majesty’s dominions. Law and order seem to be held cheaply here. It was time something was done.”

“And yet, sir, we have gone on for years, offending none, and have found life very bearable,” said the founder, warmly. “We owe no man aught, and we ask no favours from any. But you had business to do with me, Sir Mark. Shall we go in?”

“No,” said Sir Mark, “I’ll say what I have to say out here.”

The founder softly rubbed his hands and wished that the great howitzer had not been replaced in the shed, for it might have been fired again, and its wonderful strength and carrying powers exhibited to the King’s messenger. If he saw its value, and made good representations at court, that would be a large fortune for his child.

He rubbed his hands again, smiling to himself the while, till he awoke suddenly to the fact that Sir Mark was watching, when he seemed suddenly to tighten himself up, and gazed back shrewdly at his companion, who smiled and said —

“I came back to you, Master Cobbe, armed with great powers by His Majesty, to whom I have talked long and learnedly upon your works and knowledge of the arts and mysteries of making guns.”

“That is well, Sir Mark,” said the founder, smiling. “And what said his Majesty?”

“He left in my hands the power and discretion to order of you – largely – sundry munitions of war.”

“That is good,” said the founder, rubbing his hands, as if the palms began to itch to feel the money.

“Hi was satisfied with the quality and workmanship.”

“I tell thee, Sir Mark, that the equals of my pieces are not to be found in this country, search where you will. I take such pains to have naught but the toughest iron, and as to finish – ”

“Exactly, Master Cobbe,” said the knight, smiling in a half-cynical manner; “but that is your view of the matter.”

“No man ever knew me to lie or to cheat in trading, Sir Mark,” said the founder, hotly. “I will compare my pieces with those of any foundry in – ”

“Yes, yes, exactly, Master Cobbe, exactly. But, hark ye, I have, as I tell thee, full authority to deal with thee, but everything depends upon my report.”

“Try the report of the pieces themselves,” said the founder, chuckling. “There, speak out, my lad. If it be a case of commission, say what you require, and I’ll tell thee at once whether I’ll pay or no.”

“Do you wish to insult me, Master Cobbe?” said the knight, haughtily.

“Insult thee? No, my lad, not I. Would it be any insult to offer thee a hundred or two for thine introduction?”

“Silence, man!” cried Sir Mark, angrily. “I am no dealer seeking a bribe, but one who would do you a good turn, if possible, at a very difficult time. You have enemies.”

“If successful, didst ever know a man without?”

“And they have somehow given the King to understand that it was really you who supplied the conspirators with the powder for their deadly plot.”

“But I swear – ” began the founder.

“What good will that do, sir? An enemy swears against thee, and humours the king, who, so great is his hatred of such matters, lends willing ear to the charge, and would rather believe the treason of thee than not.”

“That’s a pretty state of affairs!” cried the founder. “Do you mean to tell me, Sir Mark, that the king would willingly believe an honest man guilty?”

“His Majesty gives much of his time to two subjects – that of witchcraft and that of schemes against his person. You know how deadly a plot was laid against him by his Papist enemies?”

“Ay, I know all that; but – ”

“Hear me out, Master Cobbe, then you shall speak to your heart’s content. Here is the case. It has been reported to his Majesty that you are a great factor of deadly gunpowder; that you sell it largely to his Majesty’s enemies; and that at the present time you are receiving into your house a Papist spy – one Father Brisdone, who is making arrangement for a fresh supply of powder for some new plan.”

“It’s a lie!” roared the founder, striking his doubled fist in his opened hand. “Now, look here, Master Ambassador, or whatever you call yourself, how comes his Majesty to know aught about my powder and Father Brisdone? It strikes me, sir, that yours have been the lips that made the mischief.”

Sir Mark was taken aback by this outburst, but he recovered himself pretty quickly.

“I will not take offence, neither will I argue with you upon such a point, Master Cobbe,” he said, coldly. “Let me ask you this – Was mine the speech that gave evil report of thee to the King, which said evil report first brought me down?”

“True!” exclaimed the founder. “I beg thy pardon, my lad. There is some busy meddling rascal, then, who tells tales of me and mine. Well, all I say is, let him look to it. I would not be he for a something if we two stood together some night by the mill-pool.”

“You would not throw him in?” said Sir Mark.

“No; but I might push him in, and leave him to get out how he could. But there, you can send word to his Majesty that he has been deceived. Certainly I sell powder to go abroad along with my guns – powder made of the softest dogwood charcoal we can burn.”

“Yes,” said Sir Mark; “I could, as you say, send word to his Majesty that it is not so, but it would require backing up with stronger asseveration.”

“To be sure,” said the founder; “and that you will make. You tell his Majesty that I am the last man in the kingdom to do him harm.”

“Why should I tell him this, Master Cobbe?”

“Why? Why tell him?” said the blunt founder. “Why? Because it is the truth.”

Sir Mark smiled, and stood apparently thinking for a while before he spoke again.

“Master Cobbe, I have the power to place in thy hands,” he said at last, “the supplying of as many pieces of ordnance, and as much good, strong powder, as thou could’st make, for the use of his Majesty’s forces, in an expedition to be sent to Holland. What say you; will you supply the guns?”

“Price, my lad, price? Will his Highness pay me well?”

“I will undertake to say that he will, Master Cobbe; and, what is more, I can see that it is done. Make your own fair, honest charge for the pieces and their food, and there will be no demur.”

“Look here, Sir Mark,” replied the founder, looking the speaker full in the face; “you turned angry when I talked of giving you a recompense for this order, and called it bribery. What does it all mean? Thou would’st not do all this for naught.”

“Is there no such thing as gratitude in the world, Master Cobbe?”

“Plenty, sir; but court gallants don’t come spreading it out like beaten gold over a rough country work-master, unless they want to get something back.”

“You are witty at the expense of court gallants, as you call them, Master Cobbe,” said Sir Mark, laughing. “Tut, man, be not so dense. Is it a surprise to you that I should have spent my time in London working hard on thy behalf? Here was an order for ordnance going a-begging. What more natural for me to say than – Here is honest Jeremiah Cobbe, who can make better pieces than his Majesty will get elsewhere, and it will force him back into the King’s esteem, instead of his lying under the stigma of being a traitor? What more likely for me to do than to get him the order?”

“Then, thou hast gotten me the order, eh, Sir Mark?”

“Nay, I have obtained for myself the power to give thee that order, Master Cobbe.”

“And at what price?”

“Tush, man, speak not of price,” cried the other, eagerly. “What are prices to us? Can you not see that our interests are one, and that I am working for myself as well as thee?”

“Nay,” said the founder, bluntly; “I see it not.”

“You will not see it, Master Cobbe,” said Sir Mark, smiling. “Why, man, I have but one thought – for thy welfare.”

“Indeed,” said the founder, bluntly; “and why?”

“Why?” cried Sir Mark. “You ask me why, when you know so well that I would do aught for the father of the woman I love.”

“Ah,” said the founder, drily; “now we have got to it at last. So that mad wish of thine is not dead yet.”

“Mad wish! Why, Master Cobbe, for what do you take me?”

“A very good hand at a bargain, Sir Mark. Nay, nay, stop you, and let me speak, for you have had a goodly say. You come to me then, now, scorning all kinds of commission for the great order you have to bestow, but you say to me all the same – Here is the order, give me thy daughter in return.”

“Master Cobbe!”

“Sir Mark Leslie! Now, sir, what manner of man do you take me to be, that you offer me goodly orders in exchange for my own poor flesh and blood?”

“No, no, Master Cobbe; you do not speak me fair.”

“I think I do, sir,” replied the founder. “Go, take thy great order elsewhere, I’ll have none of it. My child weds some day a man of her own station, who is a suitable mate. I shall not take a bribe to give her to the first who tries to tempt me.”

“Come, come, Master Cobbe, you are too hard. You know I love her.”

“Yes; you say so, sir.”

“Be not so hard, then. Give me access to her.”

“Access to her, man? You speak as if I locked her in her room. My child is free enough, and she will tell thee readily that she is no mate for Sir Mark Leslie.”

“Nay, nay, Master Cobbe!”

“Nay, nay, Sir Mark. There, sir, you are welcome to what my house affords while it pleases thee to stay, for I will not quarrel with thee; but let us have no more converse about such matters as these.”

“And the order, Master Cobbe, one that would bring thee thousands?”

“Take it elsewhere, sir; take it elsewhere. You are a very good, generous kind of devil, no doubt, but thy temptations will not succeed at so great a price.”

“Bah!” ejaculated Sir Mark. “Devil, forsooth! One would think, man, I asked for thy soul.”

“And what else dost ask for?” cried the founder, angrily, “but for the pure, sweet girl who is to me my very life and soul. There, I’ll speak no more on it. I get angered, and I’ve had repentance enough for quarrelling with you once before, good guest. There, sir, as I said before, the house is open to you and to your men. Take its hospitality; as to that order, make of it what you can.”

Evidently growing hot and angry, the founder turned away to go and cool himself – so it seemed – in his hottest furnace, while Sir Mark stood watching him till he disappeared, with a smile upon his lips.

“The old fellow is tougher than I thought,” he said. “I expected the prospect of the money would have won his consent. Well, it makes me feel a kind of respect for him after all, rough as he is. But stop a bit, Master Cobbe, you’ll execute the King’s order and make money by it. You’ll give me sweet Mace’s hand, and sooner or later I’ll have thy savings to the last penny to clear off my little debts, and enable my beautiful rustic wife to keep up such style as shall make the sneering dames at court think twice before they slight one who has beauty, power, and position.”

As he spoke, he glanced at an open window, where Mace, trembling and excited, had been an unseen spectator of the meeting, standing far back in the room, and giving a sigh of relief as she saw her father stride angrily away.

How Gil interrupted a Discussion

There must be something very fascinating in the herb called tobacco, or else the reverend gentlemen, who had commenced taking it with distaste, would never have grown to be steady smokers; and, in spite of Mistress Hilberry’s sour looks, met evening by evening to enjoy their pipes with the regularity of a clock.

But so it was, and it grew to be quite a custom for Master Peasegood to welcome Father Brisdone daily, and lay his pipe ready to his hand when he seated himself at the table.

“Yes,” said Master Peasegood, as they sat together; “our gay spark has come back, and he has had a long talk with Jeremiah Cobbe. He wants to have our little maiden’s hand.”

“But he must not,” cried Father Brisdone, excitedly. “Better that she should enter some holy walls as the bride of Christ.”

“Humph!” ejaculated Master Peasegood; “I don’t quite agree with you there, brother; but we will not argue. I am with you that he should not marry our little maiden. By the way, he let drop to friend Cobbe something about you.”

“How know you this?” said the father. “Why Cobbe told me, to be sure.”

“Under the seal of confession?”

“Seal of stuff!” cried Master Peasegood, testily. “I don’t confess. He told me, and asked my advice, and I tell my most intimate friend. Look here, brother. It seems they won’t let thee alone.”

“Indeed! And why?”

“There’s a rumour out that thou art down here to purchase powder for some new plot, and Master Cobbe is in a fine way about it.”

“And you? What did you say to him?”

“Told him he was a fool.”

“Hah!” said Father Brisdone.

“I was just in the humour,” said Master Peasegood. “I am just in the humour now. Why I’d rather marry the poor girl myself than see her handed over to that court pie.”

“And Master Cobbe – what says he?”

“That he’d sooner see her in her grave.”

“Poor girl, poor, sweet girl!” said Father Brisdone. “It must not be, brother. We must fight on the other side.”

“There’ll be no need.”

“Nay, but there will. Yon spark is cunning and crafty, and he will work upon the old man till he consents. If they have designs against me, I may at any time be removed or have to flee. If this be so, I leave you to on that poor girl’s side to the very last.”

“Have you seen her lately?”

“I was there four days since for a good and pleasant hour,” said Father Brisdone, with a sigh. “Nay,” he said, smiling, “look not so suspiciously; I said no word on religion to her. What need was there when her breast is so pure and free from guile?”

Master Peasegood stretched out his broad fat hand, and pressed that of his friend.

“Thank you, brother,” he said, smiling. “It’s strange how we have drifted together. I’ll confess it; I’ve tried hard indirectly, and hoped to get thee over to our Church.”

“Not harder than I have tried indirectly with thee,” said Father Brisdone, smiling. “Ah, brother, why should we trouble ourselves about it when we are both journeying on the highway. You like to walk in boots, and I prefer sandals.”

“Hah, yes,” said Master Peasegood; “but then I do save my feet from the grit, and dust, and thorns of the way.”

“Yes, but then I travel with shaven crown and cooler head than you in your thick flap hat.”

“Yes, perhaps so. But there, there, why should we discourse about such matters?”

“True, brother, when we are both hopeful that, in spite of contending dogma, we may reach the heavenly gate in company; and it strikes me,” he added with a smile, “that if we do the good saint may give us both a welcoming smile.”

“Brother,” said Master Peasegood, leaning across the table, “if he had not one for you, I’d, I’d – bless me that I would – I’d take him to task about the fact.”

“Take him to task!”

“Ay! Remind him of a bit of weakness of his when a certain cock did crow.”

Father Brisdone looked up with a half-amused, half-sorrowful expression. Then, with a sigh:

“If the good saint had no welcome for my companion, and held the door open for me alone, I should feel that I had been mistaken all my life, join hands with my friend, and accompany him back.”

There was another hearty shake of the hand at this, and then the two friends sat and smoked in silence for a time.

“Look here, brother,” said Master Peasegood, suddenly; “we both love and like to direct sweet Mace, and leave another roaming about like a poor lost lamb. Now, why don’t you take up Mistress Anne Beckley? She is young, and easily moulded.”

“Nay,” was the reply; “I’d rather you tried your hand. I shall not seek to make her a proselyte to our cause.”

Master Peasegood sat gazing at his friend for a while, and then exclaimed —

“The news I gave you does not seem to have much effect.”

“What news?”

“That thou art a papist emissary, and come to purchase powder for a new plot.”

“Heaven grant that such a bloody and atrocious crime be not again upon the way. It makes me shudder to think that men could have such ideas, and say that they are in the cause of the Church.”

Father Brisdone spoke excitedly, and his pale face flushed as he rose and paced the room. “Oh, brother, we live in bitter times when men can think a good and gracious God could smile down upon such crimes.”

“Ah,” said Master Peasegood, re-lighting his little pipe, “you are a bad Catholic, and I no longer wonder that thou art left here by thy party.”

Father Brisdone looked back on him, and smiled.

“The captain has sailed,” said Master Peasegood.

“Yes; he asked me to keep a protecting eye over our child.”

“He did, did he? Then I have a counter turn with him. Why did he not ask me to play that part?”

“Because he knew thee of old, and that our child would be certain of thy protection.”

“Ah!” said Master Peasegood, with a sigh; “that girl is a great strain upon my mind – bless her!”

“Ay, bless her!” said Father Brisdone, fervently. Then, after a pause, “I may have to flee one of these days, for persecutions are sometimes very bitter against such as I. If I do go suddenly, you will remember all my words.”

“Remember them! Yes. But where should you go?”

“Throw myself upon the hands of Captain Carr, and trust to his generosity.”

“Yes, if at home; but he has sailed.”

“There are the woods and rocky hills.”

“Yes,” said Master Peasegood! “and plenty of blackberries, and hips and haws, and cold night-dews, and damp ferns. Bah, man, we can’t live like hermits here in this Christian land. This is not a place where a man can be happy in a hair-shirt and a scooped-out hole in the rock, with a handful of dates and a cup of water. My word, it would puzzle some of those early fathers to exist on such terms down here. But there, have no fear, there is not a man for miles round who would not give either of us a hiding-place and a regular meal if we were in need.”