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Updated: June 17, 2025
He whispered words of hope and promise, and stimulated the nagging ones to fresh zeal. A muffled sound of hoofs the men from Gloucester! Windybank noted with some degree of satisfaction that they ware well armed and well mounted. In the darkness he counted nearly a score of men.
The food refreshed him, and he felt he could wait patiently for the dawn. Day came, and with it a buzz of excitement in the village. Windybank ventured to peep through the topmost lattice and scan the groups of excited gossips. Then he looked aloft through the great network of beams and rafters. He was tired, and his brain swam inside his head.
Just above Westbury she hath planned an anchorage, and there Master Windybank of Dean Tower whom, God helping me, I will hang over his own gateway before another sunset will meet them with pack-horses wherewith to convey the combustibles to their appointed places. 'Tis our business to capture the Luath.
At about the hour when Johnnie Morgan stepped out over his threshold to go down to the admiral at Gatcombe, Andrew Windybank stole like a thief from the Tower and went through by-paths towards Westbury-on-Severn, a fishing hamlet that lay a little farther up-stream than Newnham. Not a single man of all his servants and retainers went with him.
Master Windybank could not help but admire the valiant admiral, and he remembered how he had flushed with pleasure when Drake had taken him by the hand on the occasion of their introduction. He hated and feared Father Jerome: but he was aiding his schemes, and endeavouring to frustrate those of the gallant sailor whom he honoured. As the days wore on, unceasing fears began to torture him.
"I am come upon business that hath the blessing of the Holy Father." "I'll not listen!" Windybank thrust out his arm to push his unwelcome companion aside. Basil took him by the shoulders and stared into his face with an intentness that made the young fellow fancy that the fierce, black orbs confronting him were burning holes in his brain.
Andrew Windybank had lived the wretchedest month of his life. A mountain of care bowed him down, and fear, rage, jealousy, and wounded pride gnawed unceasingly at his heart. He knew that he was a suspected person: his neighbours shunned him; many of his servants and dependants, by sidelong looks and spying ways, showed that they mistrusted him.
He hath the start of me in inches, but a moon-calf would hardly benefit by bargaining wits with him a grinning, guzzling giant whose chief delight is singing songs in a tavern or wrestling with brawny clowns as empty-headed as himself!" Windybank paused for breath, and Dorothy faced him as unflinchingly as before, her lips curling in contempt. "Hast nothing to say now?" he went on.
Confronted unexpectedly by these fresh foes, the noble creature came to a terrified halt, and, flanks heaving, nostrils quivering, stared at them with wide-open eyes. But a yelp from the nearest hound and a view "halloo!" from Windybank sent it off again like a bolt from a crossbow.
"Refuse! Alack, good Master Windybank, what a word to utter. Look at yonder sundial and thou wilt see that I have hearkened most patiently for more than an hour." Mistress Dorothy opened her blue eyes very widely, and her tone was a trifle indignant. "Ay, but there is listening and listening, mistress," was the testy response.
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