Idonia: A Romance of Old LondonWallis, Arthur Frederick
History
Idonia: A Romance of Old London
Wallis, Arthur Frederick
Great Britain -- History -- Elizabeth, 1558-1603 -- Fiction; London (England) -- Fiction
Small light there was to see by, for the few windows which should have
served us were all shuttered or roughly boarded up, and the wind piped
through them shrilly. Upon the great open gallery he paused as in
doubt which way to proceed, and, to speak justly, 'twould have puzzled
a wiser man in that dimness to pursue any right course between the huge
bales and chests of sea-merchandise that pestered our passage. Nay,
even the very roof and ceilings were become warehouses, so that once I
espied so great a thing as a ship's cockboat slung from the rafters
above our heads, and once rasped my cheek against the dried slough of a
monstrous water-snake that some adventurer had doubtless brought home
from the Indies. But I knew well enough that we should have made twice
our progress but for the infinite dread in which the poor poet went of
crossing the lair where the officers of this unholy brotherhood awaited
their hour to steal forth. At every rustle of wind he staggered so he
could scarce stand, and had it not been for the invigorating coolness
of my sword upon the nape of his neck, he would have fled thence an
hundred times. Yet for all the dangers (to call them so) of our stolen
march, the thought that stood in the front of my mind was: What lover,
since the world began, hath gone in this fashion to his mistress? For
insensibly my intention had narrowed down to the mere necessity of
seeing Idonia again. Surely, never was a house of so many turnings and
bewildered issues; so that we seemed to traverse half the ward in our
quest, and for the most part in pitchy blackness, as I have said, until
I almost could have believed the day had gone down into night while we
shuffled tardily forward. But at last Mr. Andrew stopped. We had
turned a coign of the wall, and come into an open space palely lighted
from above; and looking up I saw we stood beneath the vent wherein the
crane worked that I had note from without the night before.
"If it be not closed up, 'tis here," whispered the poet, and enjoining
upon me to succeed him, he took the crane-rope in his hand and pulled
himself up thereby until he had ascended some fifteen feet, when he
swung himself a little to the right hand where was a sort of ledge in
the masonry of the wall (I mean not the front wall of the building, but
a wall that joined it on the square), and there he stood firm. I was
not slow to join him aloft and there found, behind the ledge or sill, a
low arch in the thick of the wall, and within it a little wicket door.
"You have guided me well," I said, clasping his hand hard, "and I shall
not forget it. If there be any favour I can show you before we part,
name it, Mr. Plat, and I will use my endeavour to please you."
He considered some while before he replied, and then looking at me very
earnestly, said--
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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