The Lost Treasure of Trevlyn: A Story of the Days of the Gunpowder Plot

"His father has half killed him, I trow!" cried Kate, with sudden energy. "He could not else have received injury in these few hours. Speak, Cuthbert; tell us! is it not so?"

"I have been something rough handled," answered the lad in a low voice; "but I did not feel it greatly till I began to climb the hill.

"I thank you, good Philip. I will be glad of your arm. But I am better already."

"You look like a veritable ghost," said Kate, still brimming over with pity and indignation. "What did that miserable man do to you?"

"Why, naught that he has not done a score of times before-tied me to the pillar and flogged me like a dog. Only he laid his blows on something more fiercely than is his wont, and doubled the number of them. Perchance he had some sort of inkling that it was his last chance, and used it accordingly."

The bare trees did not screen the beams of the moon, and both Philip and Kate could see the expression on Cuthbert's face. What they read there caused Kate to ask suddenly and eagerly:

"What meanest thou by that, Cuthbert? What plan hast thou in thine head?"

"Why, a mighty simple one-so simple that I marvel I have not carried it out before. I could not live worse were I to beg my bread from door to door, and I should at least have my liberty; and if whipped for a vagabond, should scarce be so badly used as my father uses me. Moreover, I have a pair of strong arms and some book learning; and I trow I need never sink to beggary. I mind not what I do. I will dig the fields sooner than be worse treated than a dog. My mind is made up. I have left my father's house never to return. I am going forth into the world to see what may befall me there, certain that nothing can be worse than what I have left behind."

"Thou hast run away from thy cruel father? Marry, that is good hearing!" cried Kate, with sparkling eyes. "I marvel we had none of us thought of that plan ourselves; it is excellent."

"It seemed the one thing left-the only thing possible. I could not endure such thralldom longer," answered Cuthbert, speaking wearily, for he was in truth well nigh worn out with the tumult of his own feelings and the savage treatment he had received. "But I know not if I shall accomplish it even now. My father may discover my flight, pursue and bring me back. This very day I asked to leave his house, and he refused to let me go. If he overtakes me I shall be shut up in strait confinement; I shall be punished sorely for this night's work. I must make shift to put as many miles as may be betwixt myself and the Gate House tonight."

"Nay, thou shalt do no such thing!" answered Kate, quickly and warmly. "I have a better plan than that. Thou shalt come home with us. My good father will gladly give thee shelter and protection. Thou shalt remain in hiding with us till the hue and cry (if there be any) shall be over past, and till thy wounds be healed and thou hast regained thy strength and spirit; and then thou shalt start forth reasonably equipped to seek thy fortune in the world; and if thou wilt go to merry London, as I would were I a man with mine own fortune to carve out, methinks I can give thee a letter to one there that will secure thee all that thou needest in the present, and may lead to advancement and good luck."

Kate's thoughts always worked like magic. No sooner was an idea formed in her busy brain than she saw the whole story unwinding itself in glowing colours; and to hear her bright chatter as the three pursued their way to the house, one would have thought her cousin's fortune already made. A soft red glow had stolen into her cheeks as she had spoken of the missive she could furnish, and Philip gave her a quick glance, a smile crossing his face.

Cuthbert was too faint and bewildered to take in all the sense of Kate's words, but he understood that for the moment he was to be cared for and concealed, and that was enough. Philip echoed his sister's invitation to his father's house as his first stage on his journey, and all that the lad remembered of the next few hours was the dancing of lights before his dazzled eyes, the sound of friendly voices in his ears, and the gentle ministrations of kindly hands, as he was helped to bed and cosseted up, and speedily made so comfortable that he fell off almost immediately into a calm refreshing sleep that was like to be the best medicine he could have.

When Sir Richard rejoined his family, it was with a stern expression on his face.

"The boy has been grossly maltreated," he said. "It is no mere paternal chastisement he has received this day, but such a flogging as none but the lowest vagabond would receive at the hands of the law. The very bone is in one place laid bare, and there be many traces of savage handling before this. Were he not mine own uncle, bearing mine own name, I would not let so gross an outrage pass. But at least we can do this much-shelter the lad and send him forth, when he is fit for the saddle, in such sort that he may reach London in easy fashion, as becomes one of his race. The lad has brains and many excellent qualities. There is no reason why he should not make his way in life."

"If he can be cured of his Papist beliefs," said Lady Frances; "but no man holding them gets on in these days, and Cuthbert has been bred up in the very worst of such tenets."

"So bad that he is half disgusted with them before he can rightly say why," answered Sir Richard with a smile. "There is too much hatred and bitterness in Nicholas Trevlyn's religion to endear it to his children. The boy has had the wit to see that the Established Church of the land uses the same creeds and holds the same cardinal doctrines as he has been bred up in. For the Pope he cares no whit; his British blood causes him to think scorn of any foreign potentate, temporal or spiritual. He has the making of a good churchman in him. He only wants training and teaching. Methinks it were no bad thing to send him to his mother's kindred for that. They are as stanch to the one party as old Nicholas to the other. The lad will learn all he needs there of argument and controversy, and will be able to weigh the new notions against the old.

"Verily, the more I think of it the better I like the plan. He is scarce fit for a battle with the world on his own account. Food and shelter and a home of some sort will be welcome to him whilst he tries the strength of his wings and fits them for a wider flight."

"His mother's kindred," repeated Kate quickly, and with a shade of hauteur in her manner. "Why, father, I have ever thought that on their mother's side our cousins had little cause to be proud of their parentage. Was not their mother-"

"The daughter of a wool stapler, one Martin Holt, foster brother to my venerated father, the third Earl of Andover," said Lady Frances, quietly. "Truly, my daughter, these good folks are not in birth our equal, and would be the first to say so; nevertheless they are worthy and honest people, and I can remember that Bridget, my mother's maid, who astonished us and deeply offended her relations by a sudden and ill-judged marriage with Nicholas Trevlyn, was a wonderfully well-looking woman. How and why such a marriage was made none may rightly know now. I can remember that the dark-browed Nicholas, who was but little loved at our house, took some heed to this girl, greatly younger than himself, though herself of ripening age when she let herself be persuaded into that loveless wedlock. It was whispered that he had made a convert of her; the Jesuits and seminary priests were hard at work, striving to win back their lost power by increasing the number of their flock and recruiting from all classes of the people. Nicholas was then a blind tool in the hands of these men, and I always suspected that this was one of his chief motives for so ill judged a step. At any rate, Bridget pronounced herself a Romanist, and was married by a priest of that Church according to its laws. Her family cast her off, and Nicholas would let us have no dealings with her. Poor Bridget! I trow she lived to rue the day; and the change of her faith was but a passing thing, for I know she returned to her old beliefs when time had allowed her to see things more clearly.

"But to return to the beginning. If Bridget's brother, Martin Holt, yet lives and carries on his father's business, as is most like, on London Bridge, his house would be no bad shelter for this poor lad, who will scarce have means or breeding as yet to take his place with those of higher quality."

"That is very true," said Sir Richard. "The lad is a right honest lad, and his gentle blood shows in a thousand little ways; but his upbringing has not fitted him for mingling with the high ones of the world, and it would be well for him to rub off something of his rustic shyness and awkwardness ere he tries to cut a fine figure. I doubt not that Martin Holt would receive his sister's son."

"A wool stapler!" muttered Kate, with a slight pout of her pretty lips. "I was going to have sent him to Culverhouse with a letter, to see what he would do for my cousin."

"Lord Culverhouse could not do much," answered her father, with a smile. "He is but a stripling himself, and has his own way yet to make. And remember too, dear Lady Disdain, that in these times of change and upheaval it boots not to speak thus scornfully of honest city folks, be they wool staplers or what you will, who gain their wealth by trading on the high seas and with foreign lands. Bethink you that even the King himself, despite his fine phrases on divine right, has to sue something humbly to his good citizens of London and his lowlier subjects for those very supplies that insure his kingly pomp. So, saucy girl, put not into young Cuthbert's head notions that ill befit one who has naught to call his own save the clothes upon his back. If he goes to these kinsfolk, as I believe it will be well for him to do, it will behove him to go right humbly and reverently. Remember this in talking with him. It were an ill thing to do to teach him to despise the home where his mother first saw light, and the kinsfolks who are called by her name."

Kate's sound sense and good feeling showed her the truth of her father's words, and she dutifully promised not to transgress; but she did not altogether relish the thought of the prospect in store for her cousin, and as she went upstairs with Bessie to the comfortable bed chamber they shared together, she whispered, with a mischievous light dancing in her eyes:

"Ah, it is one thing for the grave and reverend elders to plan, but it is another for the young to obey. Methinks Cuthbert will need no hint from me to despise the home of the honest wool stapler. He has been bred in woods and forests. He has the blood of the Trevlyns in his veins. I trow the shop on London Bridge will have small charms for him. Were it me, I would sooner-tenfold sooner-join myself to one of those bands of freebooters who ravage the roads, and fatten upon sleek and well-fed travellers, than content myself with the pottering life of a trader! Ah, we shall see, we shall see! I will keep my word to my father. But for all that I scarce think that when Cuthbert starts forth again it will be for London Bridge that he will be bound!"

Chapter 3: The Lost Treasure

"And so it is to London thou wilt go-to the worthy wool stapler on the Bridge?" and Kate, mindful of her promise to her parents, strove to suppress the little grimace with which she was disposed to accompany her words-"at least so my father saith."

"Yes: he has been giving me good counsel, and methinks that were a good beginning. I would gladly see London. Men talk of its wonders, and I can but sit and gape. I am aweary of the life of the forest-the dreary life of the Gate House. In London I shall see men-books-all the things my heart yearns after. And my mother's kindred will scarce deny me a home with them till I can find somewhat to do; albeit I barely know so much as their name, and my father has held no manner of communication with them these many years."

"Perchance they will not receive thee," suggested Kate, with a laughing look in her eyes. "Then, good Cuthbert, thou wilt be forced to trust to thine own mother wit for a livelihood. Then perchance thou wilt not despise my poor little letter to my good cousin Lord Culverhouse."

"Despise aught of yours, sweet Kate! Who has dared to say such a thing?" asked Cuthbert hotly. "Any missive delivered to my keeping by your hands shall be doubly precious. I will deliver it without fail, be it to mine own advancement or no."

"Belike I shall claim your good offices yet, Master Letter Carrier," answered Kate, with a laugh and a blush; "and I trow my cousin will like you none the less for being bearer of my epistle. But I am not to commend you to his good graces, as once I meant. It is to your relatives you are first to look for help. It is like rubbing the bloom off a ripe peach-all the romance is gone in a moment! I had hoped that a career of adventure and glory lay before you, and behold the goal is a home beneath a wool stapler's roof!"

But there Kate caught herself up and blushed, bethinking what her parents would say could they hear her words.

But Cuthbert did not read the underlying scorn in merry Kate's tones. He was a very simple-minded youth, and his life and training had not been such as to teach him much about the various grades in the world, or how greatly these grades differed one from the other. He was looking at his cousin's bright face with thoughtful, questioning eyes, so much so that the girl asked him of what he was thinking.

"Marry of thee, Mistress Kate," he answered; for though encouraged to speak on terms of equality with his kinsfolk, he found some difficulty in remembering to do so, and they certainly appeared to him in the light of beings from another and a higher sphere than his own. "I was longing to ask of thee a question."

"Ask on, good Master Cuthbert," was the ready reply; "I will answer to the best of my humble ability."

"I have heard of this Lord Culverhouse from many beneath this roof since I have been here. I would fain know who he is."

"That is easy told. He is the eldest son of mine uncle, my mother's brother, the fourth Earl of Andover. His eldest son bears the title of Viscount Culverhouse, and he is, of course, our cousin. When we were in London we saw much of these relatives of ours, and were grieved to part from them when we left. Now, is it understood?"

"Yes, verily. And tell me this one thing more, fair cousin, if it be not a malapert question. Is it not true that thou art to wed with this Lord Culverhouse one day?"

Kate's face was dyed by a most becoming blush. Her eyes sparkled in a charming fashion. Her expression, half arch, half grave, was bewitching to see, but she laid her fingers on her lips as she whispered:

"Hush, hush! who told thee that, good Cuthbert? Methinks thou hast over-sharp eyes and ears."

"I prithee pardon me if I have seen and heard too much," answered Cuthbert; "but I had a fancy-"

He stopped, stammering, blushing, and Kate took pity on his confusion.

"I am not vexed," she said, smiling; "and in very sooth thou hast divined what is in part the truth. But we do not dare talk of it yet. There be so many weighty matters against us."

Cuthbert looked keenly interested. He was very fond of this sprightly cousin of his, who was so amusing, so kindly, and so sisterly in her ways. She had more ease of manner, as well as brightness of temperament, than her sisters, and her company had been a source of great pleasure to him. The girl saw the look of sympathetic curiosity upon his face, and she drew her chair a little nearer to that which he occupied, stirring up the logs upon the glowing hearth into a brighter blaze.

"I' faith, Cuthbert, I will gladly tell thee all there is to know, it is not much; and I like thee well, and trust thee to boot. Nor is it such a mighty secret that Culverhouse would fain make me his bride, and that I would give myself to him tomorrow an I might. I am not ashamed of loving him," cried the girl, her dark eyes flashing as she threw hack her dainty head with a gesture of pride and womanly dignity, "for he is a right noble gentleman, and worthy of any maiden's love; but whether we shall ever be united in wedlock-ah, that is a vastly different matter!" and she heaved a quick little sigh.

"But wherefore not?" asked Cuthbert quickly. "Where could he find a more beauteous or worthy wife?"

Kate gave him a little bow of acknowledgment for his compliment, but her face was slightly more grave as she made answer:

"It is not, alack! a question of dislike to me. Were that all, I might hope to win the favour of stern hearts, and bring the matter to a happy conclusion. But no; mine uncle of Andover likes me well. He openly says as much, and he has been a kind friend to us. And yet I may not wed his son; and his kindness makes it the harder for Culverhouse to do aught to vex or defy him."

"But why may you not?" asked Cuthbert quickly.

"There be more reasons than one, but I will tell you all in brief. My own father mislikes the thought of the match, for that we are cousins of the first degree; and though we Trevlyns of the older branch no longer call ourselves the servants and followers of Rome, yet old traditions linger long in the blood, and my father has always set his face against a marriage betwixt cousins nearest akin."

Cuthbert looked thoughtful. That certainly was a difficulty hard to be got over. He made no comment, but merely asked:

"And my Lord of Andover-is that the objection with him?"

"Not near so much. He would easily overlook that. There are no such strict rules with Protestants, and his family have been for many generations of the Reformed faith. But there is just as weighty an argument on his side-namely, that my father can give me but a scanty dower, and it is a very needful thing for Culverhouse to wed with one who will fill his coffers with broad gold pieces. The Trevlyns, as thou doubtless knowest, have been sorely impoverished ever since the loss of the treasure. My father can give no rich dower with his daughters; wherefore they be no match for the nobles of the land. Oh, why was that treasure lost? Why could no man be wise enough to trace and find it, when sure there must have been many in the secret? Now that a generation has gone by, what hope is there left? But for that loss my Lord of Andover would have welcomed me gladly. The lost treasure of Trevlyn has much to answer for."

Kate spoke half laughingly, half impatiently, and tapped the rush-strewn floor with the point of her shoe. Into Cuthbert's eyes a sudden light had sprung, and leaning forward in the firelight, he laid his hand upon his cousin's.

"Kate," he said, in a low voice, "I have said naught of it before-I feared it would sound but an idle boast, an idle dream; but I am pledged to the search after the lost treasure. If it yet lies hid, as men say it does, Cuthbert Trevlyn will find it."

Kate gazed at him with wide-open eyes; but there was no trace of mockery in them, rather an eager delight and excitement that was in itself encouragement and stimulus.

"Cuthbert, what meanest thou?"

"Verily no more and no less than I say. Listen, Kate. I too am a like sufferer with others of the race of Trevlyn. I have nor wealth, nor hope, nor future, save what I may carve out for myself; and my heritage, as well as yours, lies buried somewhere in these great woods, no man may say where. It came upon me as I sat in pain and darkness, the last hour I passed beneath my father's roof, that this might be the work given to me to do-to restore to the house of Trevlyn the treasure whose loss has been so sore a blow. I said as much to my sister when we bid each other adieu in the moonlit chantry; and she bid me, ere I started on the quest, come hither to you and ask the story of that loss. We know but little ourselves; our father tells us naught, and it is but a word here and a word there we have gathered. But you know-"

"We know well. We have been told the story by our mother from the days of our childhood. I trow we know all there is to know. Why hast thou not asked before, Cuthbert?"

The lad blushed a little at the question.

"Methought it would sound but folly in your ears," he said. "It was easier to speak to Petronella in the dark chantry. Kate, wilt thou tell me all thou knowest of this lost treasure? How and wherefore was it lost, and why has no man since been able to find it?"

"Ay, wherefore? that is what we all ask," answered Kate, with eyes that flashed and glowed. "When we were children and stayed once a few months here, we spent days together scouring the woods and digging after it. We were sure we should succeed where others had failed; but the forest yet keeps its secret, and the treasure has never seen the light. Again and yet again have I said to Philip that were I a man I would never rest till it was found. But he shakes his wise head and says that our grandfather and father and many another have wasted time and expended large sums of money on the work of discovery, and without success. All of our name begin to give credence to the story that the concealed treasure was found and spirited away by the gipsy folks, who hated our house, and that it has long since been carried beyond the seas and melted into coin there. Father and Philip alike believe that the Trevlyns will see it again no more."

"Dost thou believe that, too?"

"Nay, not I. I believe it will yet come back to us, albeit not without due search and travail and labour. O Cuthbert, thy words rejoice me. Would I were a man, to fare forth with thee on the quest! What wilt thou do? How wilt thou begin? And how canst thou search for the lost treasure an thou goest to thine uncle's house in London?"

"I must fain do that for a while," answered Cuthbert; "I dare not linger so close to my father's home at this time. Moreover, the winter is fast coming upon us, when the ground will be deep in snow, and no man not bred to it could make shift to live in the forest. To London must I go first. I trow the time will not be wasted; for I will earn money in honest fashion, that I may have the wherewithal to live when I go to seek this lost treasure.

"And now, my cousin, tell me all the tale. I know not rightly how the treasure was lost, and I have never heard of the gipsy folks or their hatred to our house. It behoves me to know all ere I embark on the quest."

"Yea, verily; and I will tell thee all I know. Thou knowest well that of old the Trevlyns were stanch sons to the Church of Rome, and that in the days of Bloody Mary, as men call her now (and well she merits the name), the Trevlyns helped might and main in hunting down wretched Protestants and sending them to prison and the stake?"

"I have heard my father speak of these things," answered Cuthbert, with a light shudder, calling to mind his father's fierce and terrible descriptions of the scenes he had witnessed and taken part in during those short but fearful years of Mary's reign, "but I knew not it had aught to do with the loss of the treasure."

"It had this much to do," answered Kate, "that my grandfather and your father, who of course were brothers, were so vehemently hated by the Protestant families, many of whose members had been betrayed to death by their means-your father in particular was relentless in his efforts to hunt down and spy out miserable victims-that when the Queen was known to be dead, and her successor and Protestant sister had been proclaimed in London, the Trevlyns felt that they had cause to tremble for their own safety. They had stirred up relentless enmity by their own relentless conduct, and the sudden turn in fortune's wheel had given these enemies the upper hand."

"Ah!" breathed Cuthbert, "I begin to see."

"The Trevlyns had not served the Bloody Queen and her minions without reward," continued Kate, with flashing eyes; "they had heaped together no small treasure whilst this traffic in treachery had been going on, and in many cases the valuables of the victims they had betrayed to death had passed into the keeping of the betrayer.

"Oh, it is a detestable thing to think of!" cried the girl, stamping her foot. "No wonder the judgment of God fell upon that unhallowed treasure, and that it was taken from its possessors! No wonder it was doomed to lie hidden away till those who had gotten it had passed to their last account, and could never enjoy the ill-gotten gain. And they were punished too-ay, they were well punished. They were fined terrible sums; they had to give back sums equal to the spoil they had filched from others. Thy father, as thou knowest, was ruined; and we still feel that pinch of poverty that will be slow to depart altogether from our house. Yet it serves us right-it serves us right! It is meet that the children should suffer for the sins of their parents. I have not complained, and I will not complain;" and Kate threw back her head, whilst her eyes flashed with the stress of her feeling.