The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth

by William Harrison Ainsworth

  “Tut! thou art mistaken,” Stelfax cried. “I told him of the occurrence myself, and he seemed more surprised than grieved. But who brought you the news?”

  “An old trooper of King Charles’ time, John Habergeon, captain.”

  “Where is the knave? Bring him before me.”

  So saying, he marched into the banqueting-hall, and flung himself into the arm- chair usually occupied by the colonel. In hopes of mollifying the formidable intruder, Giles Moppett and Elias Crundy both bestirred themselves, and speedily set wine and eatables before him. But this did not pacify the captain, for he roared out, “Why comes not the rogue Habergeon to me? Must I go fetch him?”

  “I am here, captain,” John responded, entering the banqueting-room. “What would you with me?”

  Close behind the old trooper came Sergeant Delves, who had just returned from the stables. Stelfax looked sternly at John, who stood bolt upright before him, never moving a muscle.

  “Thou shouldst have been a soldier of the Commonwealth, fellow,” observed the Roundhead captain, approvingly— “thou hast the look of an Ironside.”

  “I am sorry to hear it,” John replied. “Your honour might not deem it a compliment were I to say that you are too well-looking for a Puritan, and have more the air of a roystering Cavalier.”

  “Go to, knave, and liken me not to a profane follower of Jehoram,” cried Stelfax, not altogether displeased. “Take heed that thou answerest me truthfully. Thou art newly returned from that battle-field whereat the Young Man, Charles Stuart, was utterly routed, and where our great general, like Pekah, the son of Remaliah, slew many thousands of men of valour in one day because they had forsaken the Lord God of their fathers. Didst thou bear arms in the service of Ahaz?”

  “I followed my young master—”

  “Who paid the penalty of his rebellious folly with his life — I know it. But I demand of thee if thou wert actually engaged in the strife?”

  “I tried to rescue my young master when he was stricken from his horse.”

  “And thy efforts were futile. He was justly slain, forasmuch as he hearkened not unto the words of Necho, but came to fight in the valley of Megiddo. However, I blame not thy fidelity, and it is well for thee that we take not account of the units of the host, but only of the captains. Thou owest thy safety to thine insignificance. But if thou art ever again caught in arms against the Commonwealth, a rope’s end will be thy quittance. Had thy young master been living, I might have spared him the ceremony of a court-martial, my power being absolute.”

  “It is well for him that he is out of your honour’s reach,” returned John.

  “Therein thou sayest truly, fellow,” Stelfax rejoined, with a laugh. “Well, I have done with thee for the nonce. I will question thee further when the profane malignant, thy old master, returns from his ride. Meantime, thou art a prisoner.”

  “A prisoner!” John Habergeon exclaimed.

  “Ay, all within the house are prisoners during my tarrying here. None may stir forth on peril of life.”

  At this juncture, Mr. Beard and Increase Micklegift entered the room. Having witnessed the arrival of the troopers from the parsonage-house, the Independent minister had come over to watch their proceedings. John Habergeon having informed the Roundhead captain who the new-comers were, the latter prayed them to be seated, and addressed himself to the ejected clergyman.

  “Your daughter is a comely damsel, Master Beard,” he said— “a very comely damsel. I met her a short while ago, on the other side of the downs, in Colonel Maunsel’s company.”

  “She went out to ride with my honoured patron,” Mr. Beard replied.

  “You have been told, I doubt not, of the death of your patron’s son — the young malignant, Clavering Maunsel?” pursued Stelfax.

  “I have been told of it,” Mr. Beard replied, casting down his eyes, for it was painful to him to equivocate.

  “What is this I hear?” Micklegift exclaimed, in surprise.

  “The young man was slain at Worcester.” Stelfax remarked, in an indifferent tone.

  “That cannot be!” the Independent minister cried.

  “Wherefore can it not be, I prithee?” Stelfax retorted. “I say unto thee again, the young man is dead and buried.”

  “Thou thinkest so?” said Micklegift.

  “Nay, I am certain of it,” the other rejoined. “There is small chance of his rendering further service to the Young Man, Charles Stuart. But I was speaking of your daughter, sir,” he added to Mr. Beard. “She deserves a good husband. Have you ever thought of giving her away in marriage?”

  “I have not,” the clergyman replied. “She is yet of tender age, and I look to her as the prop of my declining years — should I be spared.”

  “But you know not what may befall you,” Stelfax rejoined. “A wise man will provide against the evil day.”

  “Your counsel is good, valiant captain,” Micklegift remarked. “And Master Beard will do well to commit his daughter to the care of some godly and discreet man, who will be as a safeguard to her.”

  “Like thyself,” John Habergeon muttered.

  “Nay, were I Master Beard,” cried Stelfax, “I would rather give her to some man with a strong hand, who having carved his way with the sword, will maintain what he hath won with the same weapon.”

  “What! is this Roundhead captain too a suitor?” John Habergeon muttered. “We shall have the pair at daggers drawn ere long,”

  “This man is my rival,” Micklegift mentally ejaculated;’ his pale features flushing angrily. “I must thwart his designs.’

  “I like not this Independent minister,” Stelfax muttered to himself. “He is not a true man. I must keep an eye upon him. Well, Master Beard,” he added, aloud, to the clergyman— “are you disposed to follow my recommendation, and bestow fair Mistress Dulcia upon a man of might and valour?”

  “Or on a man of wisdom and godliness?” Micklegift said.

  “His reverence must be hard put to it to answer them,” John muttered, with a laugh.

  “I shall leave the choice to my daughter,” the clergyman replied, gravely; “and until she consults me on the subject, I shall give no thought to it.”

  A seasonable relief was unexpectedly offered to Mr. Beard at this juncture. A great disturbance was heard in the corridor, and the next moment two troopers entered, dragging in Ninian, with his hands bound behind his back with a leathern thong, and followed by Patty Whinchat, sobbing loudly.

  “How now, Besadaiah Eavestaff, and thou, Tola Fell,” Stelfax cried, addressing the troopers, “what hath this varlet done, that ye bring him thus bounden before me?”

  “He hath assaulted our comrade, Helpless Henly, and smitten him on the head with a bill-staff,” Besadaiah replied.

  “Is Helpless Henly much hurt?” Stelfax demanded.

  “Nay, I cannot avouch that,” Besadaiah replied. “Luckily, he hath a thick skull. But the blow was delivered with right good will, and felled him to the ground.”

  “What caused the attack?” sternly demanded Stelfax.

  “I was the unlucky cause of it, an please you, worshipful captain,” sobbed Patty. “the soldier wanted to kiss me whether I would or not; so I cried out, and Ninian came to my assistance, and — and — that was all.”

  “No, not quite all, my pretty damsel,” Stelfax said. “What place dost thou fill in the establishment?”

  “That of handmaiden to Mistress Dulcia, an please you, worshipful captain,” Patty rejoined.

  “Mistress Dulcia is well served, I warrant her,” Stelfax remarked, with a smile. “Take the varlet forth,” he added to the troopers, “and belabour him soundly with your scabbards for ten minutes.”

  “Oh, spare him! — spare him!” Patty implored, throwing herself on her knees before the captain.

  “Get up, Patty,” Ninian cried, “and don’t ask pity of him. I would sooner die than do so.”

  “This fellow is thy sweetheart — as the phrase goes with you profane f
olk — is he not?” cried Stelfax.

  “He is, an please you, captain. Spare him! spare him! I am in fault, not he!”

  “Well, thou hast won him grace,” Stelfax replied, chucking her under the chin. “I marvel not that Helpless Henly was tempted by those cherry lips. Beshrew me, but thou art a pretty lass — almost as comely as thy mistress.”

  “That is ever the way with the captain,” grumbled Eavestaff. “Like Samson the Nazarite, the son of Manoah, any wanton Delilah can prevail over him. Shall we unloose the varlet’s bonds?”

  “Yea, verily,” Stelfax replied. “Yet stay!” he continued, looking hard at Ninian. “This must be the knave whom I encountered with the malignant colonel, at the foot of Kingston Hill. There must have been a strong motive for his expeditious return. I will soon find it out,” he muttered to himself. “Render an account of thyself, fellow. Why wert thou sent on by thy master?”

  “To see all made ready for you, captain,” Ninian answered, promptly.

  “I have no doubt of it,” Stelfax remarked, drily. “And thou hast done thy best to carry out the order. Wert thou to get thy deserts, thou shouldst have double the number of stripes I just now ordered thee; but thou art free. Thou owest thy liberation to this pretty damsel. Let him not out of your sight,” he added to the troopers, as they undid the thong.

  With a covert glance at Ninian, which seemed to say “Forget not what I have just done for you!” Patty Whinchat hastily disappeared.

  Filling a large silver flagon, holding well-nigh a quart, with Bordeaux, Stelfax emptied it without drawing breath; pronounced the wine good; and then, getting up, expressed his intention of forthwith searching the house. He ordered John Habergeon and Ninian to attend him, but made no objection to the company of Mr. Beard and Micklegift, who proffered to go with him. Sergeant Delves and the two troopers brought up the rear. Old Martin Geere joined the party in the hall, and on seeing him, Stelfax cried out,

  “Go fetch thy keys quickly, thou Pharaoh’s butler. I will have every room and every closet — ay, and every secret place — opened unto me.”

  “There are no secret places that I wot of, worshipful captain,” old Martin replied.

  “Thou liest!” Stelfax exclaimed, fiercely; “and I will make thee show them to me, or thou shalt have the thumbscrew.”

  While old Martin, in a state of great trepidation, hurried off to obey the terrible captain’s behest, the latter marched into the library, and glanced around it, making contemptuous observations on many of the objects that met his view. He had just finished his scrutiny when Martin came back with a large bunch of keys.

  “I will begin with the ground floor,” Stelfax said. “Conduct me to the kitchen and cellars.”

  The old serving-man bowed and led the way to the back part of the house, Stelfax and the others following him, with the exception of Mr. Beard and the Independent minister, who stayed in the entrance-hall. As Stelfax passed the buttery, he perceived half a dozen troopers seated at a table, with well-laden trenchers and large mugs before them. Amongst them was a great brawny-looking fellow, with his head tied up with a napkin, through which the blood had oozed. This was Helpless Henly. To judge from the expeditious manner in which Henly was clearing his trencher, he was not much worse for his broken pate. On seeing Ninian, the injured Ironside sprang to his feet, and drawing his tuck from its scabbard, would have spitted him as completely as the jack heron had recently transfixed the poor tartaret, but for the interference of his captain, who ordered the fellow to sit down again — a command which he obeyed with ill- concealed discontent, and muttered threatenings at Ninian.

  The next visit was paid to the kitchen, where other troopers were discovered, similarly employed to those in the buttery. A brace of them, having satisfied their appetites, were seated near the fire, smoking their pipes, and watching the merry movements of the active little turnspit in his box. Stelfax tarried no longer in the kitchen than allowed him time to number the household, and put a few questions to them.

  Next came the cellar. A short flight of steps conducted the searchers into an extensive range of vaults with strong stone walls and arches calculated to sustain the weight of the superincumbent structure. Nothing, however, could be discovered within these subterranean chambers more dangerous than certain hogsheads of ale placed within the arched recesses. Nor, when the wine cellars were unlocked, was anything to be discovered except a goodly supply of long- necked, cobwebbed flasks quietly reposing in their bins. These bottles offered too strong a temptation to the troopers to be resisted. Each of them, including Sergeant Delves, took toll from the bins, carrying off a plentiful supply for themselves and their comrades. No notice of the spoliation was taken by their leader.

  The cellar doors being locked, the searchers returned to the buttery, where the wine was put aside by the purloiners for future consumption, and this precaution taken, the Roundhead captain intimated his intention of visiting the upper rooms. Upon which, they repaired to the entrance-hall, where they found Mr. Beard and Micklegift, and after examining several other apartments on this floor, the whole party went upstairs.

  Every room in the upper story, large and small — with one exception — was carefully searched; every closet unlocked; every place, likely, or unlikely, to conceal a fugitive, inspected. The apartments allotted to Mr. Beard and his daughter underwent the same rigorous scrutiny; even Dulcia’s sleeping-chamber was not respected. In this latter apartment Patty Whinchat had sought refuge, hoping to escape further molestation, and she was greatly alarmed when Stelfax and the Ironsides burst upon her retreat. The Roundhead captain, however, sought to reassure her, and thrusting out his followers, claimed a kiss as the reward of his liberation of Ninian. Of course, Patty could not refuse the request. Neither did she exhibit quite so much disinclination to the red- bearded captain’s salute, as she appeared to have done in the case of Helpless Henly.

  Colonel Maunsel’s chamber was reserved to the last. Refusal to admit the searchers within it would have instantly awakened suspicion, so old Martin had no alternative but to open it for them.

  On entering the room, Stelfax uttered an exclamation which filled John Habergeon with misgiving. But the trusty old fellow took heart when the searchers marched into the inner room, and proceeded to its careful examination. The hangings were pulled aside; the old oak armoire was opened; the closets peered into — but nothing was found.

  John began to hope that the danger was over. But all his fears revived when Stelfax, throwing himself into the colonel’s elbow-chair, and fixing his eyes upon the great mantelpiece, exclaimed in a loud voice to Sergeant Delves.

  “Bring hither hammer, hatchet, lever, chisel, and auger. I have work for you to do.”

  CHAPTER V.

  Showing How Increase Micklegift.

  Did A Turn To Clavering

  As this terrible order was issued, and the sergeant and the two troopers went forth to execute it, anxious looks were furtively exchanged by the Royalists, who now gave up Clavering for lost. These glances did not escape Stelfax, though he feigned not to perceive them, but smiled to himself. For one moment it occurred to John Habergeon to make an attack upon the Roundhead captain, and by the sacrifice of his own life possibly ensure Clavering’s escape. But he was deterred by Mr. Beard, who, reading his desperate purpose in his looks, laid his hand upon his arm, and besought him in a low tone to forbear.

  Secretly enjoying the consternation he had occasioned, Stelfax now arose from the chair, and marched to the window as if to look out at the garden, but really to indulge in a quiet laugh.

  “If we could only get him out of the room for one minute, before the others return, Captain Clavering might be saved,” John Haber-geon whispered.

  “I see not how that can be accomplished,” groaned Mr. Beard. “The poor young man is lost. What will his unhappy father say when he returns?”

  “I cannot bear to think of it,” John returned, with a look of anguish. “Cost what it may, an effort must be made t
o save him.”

  “I may help you in this extremity,” said Micklegift, in a low tone to John. “You will not forget the service?”

  “Never,” John returned, emphatically— “never! But what you do must be done quickly.”

  “Not a moment shall be lost on my part,” Micklegift rejoined. And he moved towards the Roundhead leader.

  “Methinks you did not sufficiently examine yon further closet, captain,” Micklegift observed. “In my opinion it hath a false back.”

  “You must have quicker eyes than I have, to have made that discovery, Master Preacher,” Stelfax cried, falling at once into the snare. “However, I will go see.”

  “I will show you what I mean,” said the Independent divine, preceding him to the closet.

  As he entered the recess with Stelfax, the Independent divine cast a significant look at John, the import of which the latter at once comprehended.

  “Thou art lighter of foot than I, Ninian,” he said to the young falconer. “Fly to yon closet! — the key is luckily in the door — lock them in! — quick!”

  Ninian needed not second bidding. Stealing swiftly and noiselessly to the closet-door, he clapped it to suddenly, and locked it, almost before Captain Stelfax, who was at the further end of the deep recess, could turn round.

  Infuriated at the successful trick played upon him, the Roundhead leader dashed himself with all his force against the door; but it was of solid oak, and resisted his efforts. He then roared out to the Royalists to set him instantly free, threatening them with his direst vengeance if they refused; but so far from attending to him, Ninian very coolly took the key out of the lock, saying, with a laugh, “If you wait till I let you loose, captain, you will wait long enough.”

  Meantime, John Habergeon had not been idle. So soon as Stelfax was secured, he rushed to the mantelpiece, touched the secret spring, and putting his head into the aperture, called to Clavering to come forth without an instant’s delay.