The Lion Triumphant (55 page)

We were sampling the sucking-pig when Colum Casvellyn entered the dining-room. I kept my eyes averted and my mother and I talked of the journey we had had as though he were not there.

He was not the sort to allow himself to be ignored.

He demanded the host’s attention; he would have the prime cut of the beef and the largest of the pies. Nessie waited on him, ignoring everyone else to obey his command immediately.

“It has been a fine day,” he said, addressing me.

“It has,” I agreed.

“You have come far?”

“A day’s ride.”

“How long is that?”

“It would depend on the riders, I doubt not.”

“I was referring to these riders.” He nodded towards my mother and me.

“We left Plymouth two days since.”

“Plymouth. But of course. Captain Jake Pennlyon! One of the nation’s heroes.”

“I doubt not you were at sea with the fleet, sir.”

“Aye,” he said. “And gave a good account of myself.”

“I doubt not that either,” I said. “Mother, have you finished?”

She said she had.

“Then,” I said, “let us go to see how this room in which we are to spend the night compares with the one this
gentleman
has taken from us.”

He laughed loudly.

We rose but unfortunately we had to pass close to him on our way out and as we did so, he caught at my gown so that I was pulled up short.

I looked down with disgust at his fingers which held my skirt but had no alternative but to meet his gaze. He was looking straight up at me; with mischief in his bright dark eyes—and more. He disturbed me; I tried to tweak my dress out of his fingers but he held on firmly.

“Sir?” I said with fury and indignation.

My mother was pulling at my arm, not aware that he was holding me.

I said: “You will take your hands from my gown.”

“I but wish to be civil,” he said.

“Civil! I do not understand your manner,” I retorted.

My mother was getting very angry. “How dare you lay hands on my daughter,” she said. “If you do not …”

He waited for her to go on, his brow slightly cocked, the insolent smile on his lips. He wanted to hear what she would do, knowing full well it could amount to nothing. He was the master here. The landlord lived in terror of him. What could two helpless females do against such a man?

He said: “I was about to say, Madam, that I have no wish that you should think hardly of me. Therefore I shall tell the landlord that I shall occupy the inferior room for I shall give up the Oak Room to you ladies.”

We were silent, completely taken off our guard.

My mother recovered herself first. She said coldly: “There is no need. We are quite prepared to take the other room.”

He was vehement. He had released my skirt and rapped his fist on the table. “You shall have the Oak Room. I will sleep happily in the inferior one. Nessie, call your father. At once, girl. Don’t stand there gaping.”

As we were about to leave the room the landlord appeared. “These ladies are to have the Oak Room,” roared Colum Casvellyn. “Take their baggage and put it back. I relinquish it. Now, Nessie, fill my goblet.”

My mother said to the landlord, “This is a ridiculous matter and I would see an end of it. We will not go back to the Oak Room. We shall leave it for that … that … ill-mannered oaf …”

The landlord shook his head, beginning to tremble. “He has said it shall be, my lady, and so it must.”

He looked so terrified that my mother shrugged her shoulders. Our bags were brought back to the Oak Room, Jennet unpacked and we decided we would settle down for the night.

My mother locked the door. With such people in the inn one could never be sure, she said.

It was a long time before I could sleep although the bed was comfortable. I kept thinking of Colum Casvellyn and imagining his being in this bed with Nessie, for I was sure the girl was spending the night with him. I felt excited in a rather unpleasant way; something had been aroused in me of which until this time I had been unaware.

My mother was wide awake too. We talked a little and then were silent and finally she did sleep. Jennet on her pallet was asleep, breathing with the deepness of complete and undisturbed repose. I tried not to toss and turn for fear of disturbing my mother and lay rather stiffly and uncomfortably.

As I lay there I heard a faint thud on the window pane. At first I thought I had imagined it and lay still, listening. It came again. Swiftly and silently I got out of bed and went to the window. I pushed it open and looked out. The half moon threw a white light on the trees and hedges. It was beautiful out there and the air was mild and sweet-smelling. Then I saw the shadow emerge from among the trees and he was standing there, legs apart, looking up at the window.

I drew back; I heard him laugh. He put his hand to his lips, kissed it and threw the hand towards me. I was so astonished that for a few seconds I just stood there looking at him. He threw out his arms as though inviting me to come down.

I shut the window hurriedly and went back to bed. I lay there trembling a little, terrified that I would awaken my mother. I kept my eye on the window, half expecting to see him appear there. I lay listening for a sound at the door.

Nothing happened.

It was a long time before I slept and then I was disturbed by vague shapeless dreams, but he was there dominating them.

Before it was light we were awake. The landlord gave us a hot breakfast and we left soon after dawn, before the inn was fully astir.

I was glad to get away but I knew I should remember Colum Casvellyn with a kind of fascinated horror for a long time to come.

That day we came to Trystan Priory. It was a lovely house some five miles inland. My father had not yet arrived and we were warmly welcomed by Fennimore and his parents. The house had been recently built on the site of an old Priory which had been demolished during the dissolution of the monasteries in the reign of the Queen’s father. There was a little of the old Priory left and Fennimore during that day and the next while we awaited the arrival of my father took great pleasure in pointing these remains out to us.

His parents were charming. His father was a sea captain, and that gave us much in common, and I liked Fennimore as well in his own home as I had in my own. I liked his quiet earnestness, his purposefulness; against my will I found myself comparing him with the man whom we had met at the inn. There was one who would take what he wanted; so was Fennimore in a way; but how different his methods would be. I fancied Fennimore would be one always to consider other people. I was looking forward to my father’s arrival and hoped that he would come to some agreement with the Landors.

There were a large number of rooms in the west wing, for the house like so many was built in the shape of a letter E; and my mother and I were given rooms side by side and there was a small one for Jennet close by. Our grooms were accommodated near the stables with those of the household; and I was immediately struck by the absolute peace of the place. That night I slept soundly; no doubt because of the previous disturbed night, and I found the atmosphere of Trystan Priory decidedly pleasant.

My mother liked our host and hostess very much and there seemed to be a tacit agreement that Fennimore should look after me.

That first morning he said he would first show me the house and as after three days’ riding I must be in need of a rest from the saddle he would take me for a walk round the estate so that I could really become acquainted with the place.

The great staircase which led up from the hall to the gallery was very fine indeed, with exquisitely carved banisters; in the gallery were the portraits. I paused before that of Fennimore. He looked out from the canvas with unruffled gaze on the world; it was the look of a man who would know exactly what he wanted.

“An excellent likeness,” I said.

There was a space on the wall next to his picture and I knew that another had hung there once. I wondered vaguely why it had been removed.

It was a homely house. Less ostentatious than Lyon Court and so modern when compared with ancient Trewynd Grange. It had its buttery, pastry bolting house where flour was bolted or sifted, and the winter parlour which was much used during the cold weather. The kitchen was large with its great range and spits and ovens. Fennimore pointed out to me how convenient it was being so near the winter parlour and the main hall. That hall was the centre of the house as it was in Lyon Court and Trewynd, and in it dinner was eaten when there was a large gathering. The family frequently used the winter parlour.

We walked in the gardens which were beautifully laid out. There were fountains and shady walks and several marble statues; the flower-beds were numerous and charmingly bordered with rosemary, lavender and marjoram. He showed me the enclosed garden with the pond in the centre. Most houses had them and they were planned on the style of the famous one made by Henry VIII at Hampton Court. Secluded, surrounded by a tall hedge, here members of the family could come in summer, the ladies to sit and embroider or paint pleasant little pictures; the men to talk with them, to relax, to enjoy the sunshine.

Fennimore and I sat by the pond and he talked to me of his dreams of the future. I liked to listen to him and I encouraged him to talk. There was prosperity as yet not dreamed of, he told me. He had been visiting shipyards in Britain and trying to impress their owners with the need to build ships, bigger ships, ships capable of carrying heavy cargoes and holding their own on the high seas.

“They will have to carry armaments I suppose,” I said.

“Alas, such is the way of the world. There will be battles on the high seas, doubt it not. Where there is prosperity, where there is profit, there will always be those who envy it and seek to take possession of it through force. Rivalry there must be and I would welcome that … good honest rivalry but it can hardly be hoped that men will suddenly become reasonable. They will still seek to take what is not theirs and to believe that there is more to be gained by robbery than by hard work. There should be plenty of trade for all who are ready to work for it, but you will never get men to see this. There are some who must be grander, bolder, richer than all others. There are some who must exert their power over others …”

I immediately thought then of the man at the inn and I was on the verge of telling Fennimore what had happened. I changed my mind. The garden was so pleasant; I was enjoying our conversation so much I did not want to introduce a discordant note. The more I thought of that man—and I had to admit I had thought of him a great deal—the more unpleasant the encounter seemed. He was crude; he was bold; and he had dared awaken me and bring me to the window. Had he really thrown a kiss to me or had I imagined that? Had he really been suggesting that I come down to him? Surely he must have known that was impossible. No, he had merely wished to disturb me. He had certainly done that.

Fennimore went on talking about the boom in shipbuilding which must follow the defeat of the Armada. “The Spaniards were only half aware of what prospects there were,” he was saying. “They were obsessed by making the people of the world conform to their religious doctrines. Therein lay their weakness. Their King is a fanatic. What misery he must be enduring now. I could almost feel it in my heart to be sorry for him.”

“Do not let my father hear you say that.”

“Nor shall I,” said Fennimore. “He would not understand, but I believe it to be a fact that even the most cruel, the most misguided of mankind have some spark of humanity in them and if we could but ignite it … who knows?”

I realized then that he was a very different man from my father. He was gentle and tolerant. A faint misgiving came to me then and I wondered whether the quality needed to succeed in this rough world was that ruthlessness which men like my father possessed, that single-mindedness which could only see one side of a problem. I was aware that Fennimore’s nature made him see many.

But Fennimore certainly talked like a man inspired. He made me see our ports alive with peaceful trading vessels. I could picture the unloading on the Hoe—spices, gold and ivory because he planned that his ships should travel not only in the Baltic and Mediterranean ports but right out to the East Indies.

It was very pleasant on that damp November day to walk through the garden with Fennimore, to listen to his plans, to learn about the estate on which he lived when he was not at sea.

I found his parents delightful and so did my mother. His father was undoubtedly a man of the sea and that meant that he shared certain characteristics with my own father. He was not the roaring ranting man that Jake Pennlyon was. In any case there could only be one Jake Pennlyon; but he had clearly had bloodthirsty adventures on the high seas and they must have left their mark on him. Fennimore had inherited something of his mother’s more gentle nature. It had made him more thoughtful and introspective than most men of his profession. He was rather studious; more logical than most and with that ability—which I was not sure was an asset—of being able to see many facets to one problem.

I suppose when two families are of a similar kind and each has a young member of it and these are of the opposite sex there must inevitably be some speculation as to whether or not they might marry. I knew this was in the minds of my mother and Fennimore’s parents. Every mother wants to see her son or daughter married; grandparents long for the marriage of their children to be fruitful. I knew what was going on in my mother’s mind. She liked Fennimore and would welcome him as a son-in-law. I became certain that the Landors would have offered me an equally warm welcome.

And Fennimore? Was it in his mind too? I believe it was. He was not an impulsive man, however; he would wish us both to grow accustomed to each other and the idea of marriage. To him there would be many sides to marriage, and of course he was right.

It seemed to me in those first few days at Trystan Priory that there was a very good chance that one day I would be mistress of it.

Fennimore’s mother was eager to talk about the household and during the second day she asked me to come to her room. She wanted to show me the tapestry on which she was working. She showed me the design which was to depict the glorious victory over the Armada and she herself had composed it. It would take her years to complete, she told me.