CHAPTER I.
CHILLINGTON HOUSE.
Father Huddlestone being as well acquainted with the paths through theforest as the Penderels themselves, took his companions through thethickest part of it, where they were not likely to encounter a patrolof the enemy, and brought them safely to Chillington Park.
They were now at the lower end of the long and beautiful avenue leadingto the ancient mansion, but before proceeding further, the priestdeemed it advisable to consult the old gate-keeper, who dwelt in thelodge adjoining the entrance of the park.
Like all the old retainers of the Giffards, John Eccleshall, thegate-keeper, was a Roman Catholic, and consequently devoted to FatherHuddlestone. He informed the priest that there was no danger whateverin his entering the park, since Colonel James, with the whole of histroopers, had evacuated the hall.
"Heaven be thanked the rogues are gone to Brewood!" said the old man."Not one is left behind. I counted them as they passed through thegate."
While Father Huddlestone was talking with the gate-keeper, Jasper'scuriosity was excited by an old wooden cross standing in a small greeninclosure near the lodge, and in answer to his inquiries as to why ithad been placed there, the priest related the following legend:
"That is called Giffard's Cross," said Father Huddlestone, "and it wasset up in old times by Sir John Giffard. Sir John, who was excessivelyfond of the chase, kept a collection of wild beasts, and amongst thema very beautiful, but very fierce panther, which he valued more thanall the rest. One day, it chanced that this savage animal slippedout of its cage, and escaped into the park. Made aware of what hadhappened by the cries of his terrified household, Sir John snatched upan arbalist, and rushed out into the park, accompanied by his eldestson. He easily ascertained the direction taken by the panther, for thebeast had been seen to skirt the avenue. At that time there were nogates here, and the limits of the park extended far beyond the placewhere we are now standing. Sir John and his son ran as swiftly as theycould, and were still speeding on, when they beheld a young woman anda child coming along the road. At the same moment, they discovered thepanther couched amid the fern, evidently waiting for his prey. Sir Johnand his son had halted, and though the distance was almost too great,the old knight prepared to launch a bolt at the beast. But while he wasadjusting his cross-bow, his son remarked that he was out of breath,and fearing he might miss his aim from this cause, called out to himin French, '_Prenez haleine, tirez fort._' By this time the poor youngwoman had perceived her peril, and uttering a loud shriek, clasped herchild to her breast, and essayed to fly. It may be by the interpositionof holy Hubert," continued the priest, reverently, "whose aid Sir Johninvoked, that she was saved. Just as the panther was about to spring,the bolt flew, and was lodged in the animal's brain. On the spot wherethe mortally-wounded beast rolled on the ground, this memorial wasplaced. Thenceforward, also, Sir John Giffard adopted as his motto thewords of counsel addressed to him by his son."
Having concluded his legend, with which Jasper was much edified, thegood priest bestowed his benediction on the old gate-keeper, and theparty entered the park, and proceeded along the avenue.
Viewed at a distance, Chillington House, with its grand fa?ade, itsimmense oriel windows, its gables, turrets, and noble entrance porch,looked as imposing as ever, but on a nearer approach, the damage doneto the mansion could be perfectly distinguished. Built by Sir JohnGiffard in the early part of the reign of Henry VIII., on the siteof a still older edifice, Chillington House had long been kept upin magnificent style by its owners. But the Giffards were gone now,and their ancient residence being in the hands of the Parliamentarycommissioners, was allowed to go to ruin. Now and then it affordedquarters to a detachment of soldiers, who took possession of it,without authority, and did an infinitude of mischief.
The old mansion was approached by an extremely picturesque avenue ofmingled oaks and hollies, and it was along this beautiful avenue, in1576, that Queen Elizabeth rode, attended by a splendid cort?ge, whenshe visited John Giffard, grandson of the builder of the mansion.
At that time, the park, which was of vast extent, was well stockedwith deer, for the old lords of Chillington were great hunters. At therear of the mansion the park extended to Codsall, and in this partthere were several large pools, of which a more particular descriptionwill be given hereafter. At a subsequent period these pools werejoined together, and now form a large and beautiful lake. Attached tothe house were stables that might have befitted a palace, and thesewere spared by the troopers, who spared nothing else about the place,because they found them convenient.
Placed on a rising ground, Chillington House not only looked down thelong avenue we have described, but commanded an extensive prospect overa beautifully wooded country. Familiar with this lovely view, Carelessturned round for a few minutes to gaze at it, but it was with verydifferent feelings that he surveyed the ancient mansion. How changedwas it since he beheld it last! As his eye ran over the front of theonce proud structure, he noted the injuries it had sustained--windowsshattered--architectural ornaments mutilated, or thrown down--thesmooth lawns trampled over--the terrace grass-grown. Yawning wide, thegreat entrance door revealed the havoc that had taken place within.
Careless and the priest exchanged mournful glances as they walkedtowards the house, but not a word passed between them. The greathall which they entered was a complete wreck--its beautifully carvedoak screen having been ruthlessly destroyed. The sculptured armorialbearings on the grand oak staircase were likewise irreparably injured.Nothing that hatchet could mutilate was spared.
"Have you seen enough?" inquired the priest.
"No," replied Careless, "I would fain see what these vindictivemiscreants can do when they are under no restraint. Come with me,father. Wait for us here, Jasper."
Accompanied by Father Huddlestone he then ascended the great oakstaircase, and they proceeded to examine the long gallery and thenumerous apartments connected with it, all of which were marked by thehand of the ruthless destroyer.
"What would Peter Giffard say if he could behold his house?" remarkedCareless. "It would break his stout heart--if, indeed, his heart is notalready broken."
"He bears his misfortunes bravely," said Father Huddlestone. "But theking's defeat at Worcester will be a greater blow to him than the worstof his own losses."
"Ah! if we Royalists had but won that battle, father," cried Careless;"we should soon have enjoyed our own again! But we must now wait formany a long day."
"I fear so, my son," replied the priest. "But I trust in the justice ofHeaven!"
Meanwhile Jasper, tired by his walk, had sought a seat among the brokenfurniture scattered about. Discovering an old arm-chair, he threwhimself into it and fell asleep almost immediately.
Having completed their survey of the upper rooms, Careless and thepriest were about to descend, but while passing through the gallerythey chanced to look out of a window, and, to their infinite dismay,perceived a small party of dragoons, with an officer at their head,riding quickly towards the house.
There was time enough to save themselves by a hasty retreat, but not amoment to lose. Careless rushed to the head of the great staircase, andcalled out to Jasper that the enemy was at hand, bidding him fly to theback of the house, and make his way out.
Feeling certain that the page heard him, and would instantly attend tothe warning, he gave himself no further concern, but followed FatherHuddlestone down a back staircase. Luckily, there was nothing toprevent their egress--the doors being all unfastened--and they weresoon in the court-yard.
Here they waited for a few moments for Jasper, expecting he would jointhem, but he came not. Careless now became seriously alarmed, andhis uneasiness was increased by some sounds that seemed to announcethe arrival of the troopers. Despite Father Huddlestone's entreatieshe re-entered the house, but presently came back, and with a look ofanguish exclaimed:
"Too late! The troopers have already entered--he must be captured!"
"Nay, then, we must
save ourselves if we can," cried FatherHuddlestone. "Let us make for the wood."
They had scarcely quitted the court-yard when three or four troopersrode into it.
Boscobel; or, the royal oak: A tale of the year 1651 Page 55
