House of Torment E-Book

Cyril Arthur Edward Ranger Gull

• Herausgeber: Publisher s11838
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

House of Torment written by a prolific English journalist and novelis Cyril Arthur Edward Ranger Gull. This book is one of many works by her.  It has already published in 1911. And now republish in ebook format. We believe this work is culturally important in its original archival form. While we strive to adequately clean and digitally enhance the original work, there are occasionally instances where imperfections such as blurred or missing pages, poor pictures or errant marks may have been introduced due to either the quality of the original work. Despite these occasional imperfections, we have brought it back into print as part of our ongoing global book preservation commitment, providing customers with access to the best possible historical reprints. We appreciate your understanding of these occasional imperfections, and sincerely hope you enjoy reading this book.

Leseprobe

House of Torment

A Tale of the Remarkable Adventures of Mr. John Commendone, Gentleman to King Phillip II of Spain at the English Court

By

Cyril Arthur Edward Ranger Gull

Table of Contents

DEDICATION TO DAVID WHITELAW

CHAPTER I. IN THE QUEEN'S CLOSET; THE FOUR FACES

CHAPTER II. THE HOUSE OF SHAME; THE LADDER OF GLORY

CHAPTER III. THE MEETING WITH JOHN HULL AT CHELMSFORD

CHAPTER IV. PART TAKEN IN AFFAIRS BY THE HALF TESTOON

CHAPTER V. THE FINDING OF ELIZABETH

CHAPTER VI. A KING AND A VICTIM. TWO GRIM MEN

CHAPTER VII. HEY HO! AND A RUMBELOW!

CHAPTER VIII. "WHY, WHO BUT YOU, JOHNNIE!"

CHAPTER IX. "MISERICORDIA ET JUSTITIA"

CHAPTER X. THE SILENT MEN IN BLACK

CHAPTER XI. IN THE BOX

CHAPTER XII. "TENDIMUS IN LATIUM"

DEDICATION TO DAVID WHITELAW

SOUVENIR OF A LONG FRIENDSHIP

My dear David,

Since I first met you, considerably more than a decade ago, in a little studio high up in a great London building, we have both seen much water flow under the bridges of our lives.

We have all sorts of memories, have we not?

Late midnights and famishing morrows, in the gay hard days when we were endeavouring to climb the ladder of our Art; a succession of faces, a welter of experiences. Some of us fell in the struggle; others failed and still haunt the reprobate purlieus of Fleet Street and the Strand! There was one who achieved a high and delicate glory before he died—"Tant va la cruche à l'eau qu'à la fin elle se casse."

There is another who is slowly and surely finding his way to a certainty of fame.

And the rest of us have done something, if not—as yet—all we hoped to do. At any rate, the slopes of the first hills lie beneath us. We are in good courage and resolute for the mountains.

The mist eddies and is spiralled below in the valleys from which we have come, but already we are among the deep sweet billows of the mountain winds, and I think it is because we have both found our "Princess Galvas" that we have got this far upon the way.

We may never stand upon the summit and find that tempest of fire we call the Sun full upon us. But the pleasure of going on is ours still—there will always be that.

Ever your friend,

C. RANGER-GULL.

CHAPTER I. IN THE QUEEN'S CLOSET; THE FOUR FACES

Sir Henry Commendone sat upon an oak box clamped with bands of iron and watched his son completing his morning toilette.

"And how like you this life of the Court, John?" he said.

The young man smoothed out the feather of his tall cone-shaped hat. "Truly, father," he answered, "in respect of itself it seems a very good life, but in respect that it is far from the fields and home it is naught. But I like it very well. And I think I am likely to rise high. I am now attached to the King Consort, by the Queen's pleasure. His Highness has spoken frequently with me, and I have my commission duly written out as caballerizo."

"I never could learn Spanish," the elder man replied, wagging his head. "Father Chilches tried to teach me often of an afternoon when you were hawking. What does the word mean in essence?"

"Groom of the body, father—equerry. It is doubtless because I speak Spanish that it hath been given me."

"Very like, Johnnie. But since the Queen, God bless her, has come to the throne, and England is reconciled to Holy Church, thou wert bound to get a post at Court. They could not ignore our name. I wrote to the Bishop of London myself, he placed my request before the Queen's Grace, and hence thou art here and in high favour."

The young man smiled. "Which I shall endeavour to keep," he answered. "And now I must soon go to the Queen's lodging. I am in attendance on King Philip."

"And I to horse with my men at noon and so home to Kent. I am glad to have seen thee, Johnnie, in thy new life, though I do not love London and the Court. But tell me of the Queen's husband. The neighbours will all want news of him. It's little enough they like the Spanish match in Kent. Give me a picture of him."

"I have been at Court a month," John Commendone answered, "and I have learned more than one good lesson. There is a Spanish saying that runs this way, 'Palabras y plumas viento las Heva' (Words and feathers are carried far by the wind). I will tell you, father, but repeat nothing again. Kent is not far away, and I have ambition."

Sir Henry chuckled. "Prudent lad," he said; "thou art born to be about a palace. I'll say nothing."

"Well then, here is your man, a pedant and a fool, a stickler for little trifles, a very child for detail. Her Grace the Queen and all the nobles speak many languages. Every man is learned now. His Highness speaks but Spanish, though he has a little French. Never did I see a man with so small a mind, and yet he thinks he can see deep down into men's hearts and motives, and knows all private and public affairs."

Sir John whistled. He plucked at one of the roses of burnt silver embroidered upon the doublet of green tissue he was wearing—the gala dress which he had put on for his visit to Court, a garment which was a good many years behind the fashion, but thought most elegant by his brother squires in Kent.