“Question us not — we are in haste,” Lord Wilmot hastily replied, pressing on with the others. “Come with me inside, and thou shalt hear that which will surprise thee.”
“What hath happened?” demanded the man, preceding them into the house. But scarcely had he crossed the threshold than the Royalists closed round him and disarmed him.
“Utter but a cry,” said Lord Wilmot, clapping a pistol close to his head, “and it will be thy last. Thou art wholly in our power. But do as I bid thee, and thy life shall be spared. Dost heed me, knave?”
The man made no reply, but did not attempt to give the alarm.
At the moment when the Royalists thus gained admittance to the hall it was empty. On a table at one side a lamp was burning, but Ninian quickly extinguished it, and plunged the place in darkness. Just as this was accomplished, the door of a room adjoining the library was opened, and a harsh voice demanded who was there.
“Do thou answer,” said Lord Wilmot to the sentinel, still holding the mouth of the pistol to his head.
“’Tis I — Gabriel Flint,” responded the sentinel.
“Ha! what dost thou there, Gabriel?” inquired the other.
“Speak as I enjoin thee,” muttered Lord Wilmot, breathing a few words in his ear.
“The captain hath sent a file of men for the prisoner,” said Flint.
“Ay, bring him forth without delay,” added John Habergeon, in a snuffling, puritanical voice. “We are to take him to his friends at the church.”
“Ye shall have him, and welcome,” replied the other. “But tell me, comrade, what was the meaning of that ringing of the church bell?”
“’Twas a mere trick of the prisoners,” responded John; “they had barricaded the door of the tower wherein they were confined, and I suppose contrived to clamber up the walls and reach the bell-rope. The noise is checked now.”
“Ay, our captain would soon put a stop to such vagaries, I’ll warrant him,” responded the trooper. “Come forth, prisoner,” he added.
“Whither would ye take me?” demanded Colonel Gunter, as he approached the door of the room.
“To your friends,” replied the trooper, in a jeering tone. “They are anxious for your company.”
“They are,” Lord Wilmot answered, “Be quick!”
Colonel Gunter fancied he recognized the voice, and accelerated his movements.
“Here is the prisoner,” said the trooper, pushing the colonel forth— “take him! But the lamp has gone out, I perceive. I will bring a light instantly.”
“It is needless,” John Habergeon replied. “We care not to behold the Amalekite’s features. We will take thy word that it is the right man.”
While this brief colloquy occurred, Lord Wilmot grasped the colonel’s arm, and made his presence known to him in a whisper.
“You here, my good lord, and in that garb?” exclaimed Colonel Gunter, in a low tone.
“Hush!” cried Lord Wilmot. “We are all friends — except this rascal, whose brains I will blow out if he venture to utter a word. Mve on with the prisoner! — to the church!” he added, aloud.
“Not so fast, comrades! — not so fast! A word with you ere you depart!” cried the trooper, appearing at the door with a light.
All chance of concealment was then at an end.
“Ha! what is this?” cried the trooper. “Malignants in the garb of soldiers of the Republic. Where are ye, comrades? Treason! — help! — succour!”
As he spoke, he discharged his pistol at the retreating Royalists. The ball passed within an inch of Lord Wilmot’s head, but fortunately missed him.
John Habergeon and Ninian Saxby fired at the trooper in return, but as the latter had instantly retreated into the room, no damage was done him. Prohibiting any continuance of the conflict, Lord Wilmot ordered his party to move on. He still kept hold of the sentinel, intending to release him at the door. But, ere the Royalists could pass forth, they were again delayed in an unexpected manner. The discharge of fire-arms operated as a signal to another set of persons who had been secretly meditating an attack upon the Roundheads, and who now found that their design had been anticipated. From the passage leading to the buttery and kitchen flocked some half-dozen or more of the household, headed by Giles Moppett and Crundy, and armed with partisans and bills. At the same time, Colonel Maunsel, sword in hand, appeared at the head of the staircase, closely attended by Martin Geere, with a musket over his shoulder, while a few paces behind them were Mr. Beard and Dulcia, with Patty Whinchat.
It will now be proper to explain how all these persons chanced to appear with so much suddenness. As may be supposed, on that eventful night none of the inmates of the Grange retired to rest; and consequently they were all aware that Stelfax had returned with a new prisoner. Though entertaining no hope whatever of accomplishing his son’s and Lord Wilmot’s deliverance from their enemies, Colonel Maunsel did not entirely despair of setting free the captive last brought in. Who this personage might be the old Cavalier was entirely ignorant. All the household were firmly persuaded it was the king; and though Colonel Maunsel, who had received an assurance to the contrary from Lord Wilmot, did not share in their belief, still he felt certain the individual must be a Royalist of distinction — and, in all probability, a friend. An effort must, therefore, be made for his liberation. Through the agency of Martin Geere and Giles Moppett, who were employed by the colonel in preparation for this project, the whole of the household were secretly armed, and commanded to hold themselves in readiness, in case the attempt could be made with any prospect of success. So long as the Ironsides maintained an imposing force, and, indeed, outnumbered the colonel’s retainers, any such attempt would have been fraught with the greatest risk; but when Stelfax set off to the church, taking half a dozen men with him, and leaving but a slender guard of three or four behind — of which Colonel Maunsel was made aware by Moppett — then it seemed to the old Cavalier that the right moment had arrived. But Moppett had a plan of his own for rendering the matter quite certain. With the aid of his fellow-servants, he undertook to secure three of the Ironsides in the cellar, whither he knew they were about to go, and besought his master to wait till he could carry the plan into effect. Though anxious for the onset, Colonel Maunsel agreed to the delay — or rather, allowed himself to be persuaded by Mr. Beard to adopt this prudent course. The good clergyman and his daughter had remained with the colonel to a late hour, and finding it was his intention to watch throughout the night, Mr. Beard desired permission to keep him company, and of course the request could not be refused. Dulcia was unwilling to leave her father — and Patty did not like to quit her young mistress — so they all remained in an upper room, which Colonel Maunsel had chosen for himself when driven from his own chamber by Stelfax. Within this room the colonel was pacing to and fro, supported by Martin Geere, scarcely able to control his impatience, and eagerly expecting Moppett’s appearance, when the report of a pistol, almost instantly followed by two other shots, suddenly smote his ears. Drawing his sword, he hastened, without support, along the corridor to the head of the stairs, followed somewhat more cautiously by the others.
Patty Whinchat had snatched up a taper before quitting the room, and others of the household, when issuing from the buttery and kitchen, had brought lamps with them, so there was now light enough to reveal the disguised Royalists near the door. Deceived by their accoutrements, the old Cavalier took them for Parliamentary soldiers, and naturally concluded they were marching off with the prisoner. But his blood was now up, and although Mr. Beard besought him not to interfere and so jeopardize his own safety, he shouted out to the supposed Roundheads to set free their prisoner instantly. Then turning to his household, he vociferated,
“Upon them, my men! — upon them! — strike hard, and fear not! — I will be down with you on the instant, and will show you how such crop-eared curs ought to be dealt with. Upon them, I say! Wherefore do you hesitate?”
“They do well to hesitate in attacking frien
ds and supporters of the good cause, Colonel Maunsel,” cried Lord Wilmot.
“Royalists in the garb of rebels!” exclaimed the old Cavalier.
“Ay, Royalists!” cried Clavering. “If you do not recognize Lord Wilmot, surely my voice cannot be strange to you?”
“Methinks your honour will recognize mine?” John Habergeon called out.
“And mine also, I am assured?” Ninian added.
“I know you all now,” cried the colonel, who had been for a moment speechless with astonishment. “Come to my arms, my dear boy, that I may embrace thee once more!” he added, hurrying down the staircase in a delirium of joy, while Clavering sprang forward to meet him. “Art thou indeed free?” he cried, catching the young man in his arms, and folding him to his breast.
“Free as yourself, father,” Clavering rejoined. “We have left those caitiff Roundheads in our places in the church.”
“Amazement!” exclaimed the colonel. “This passes all my comprehension.”
“Your honour would be still more amazed if you could hear how it has been accomplished,” John Habergeon remarked; “but there is not time to tell it now.”
While this was going on, the trooper who had kept guard over Colonel Gunter had been attacked by a strong body of the household, and was now dragged forth by them in triumph, with his arms pinioned with his own belt. Seeing this, Lord Wilmot consigned the sentinel to Moppet and Crundy, bidding them take both rascals away, and shoot them if they thought proper.
“Nay, we will not put them to death,” said Moppett, “but we will clap them with their comrades in the cellar.” And both prisoners were haled away.
“I must perforce tear your son from your embraces, Colonel Maunsel,” said Lord Wilmot. “We shall have the Ironsides back from the church, and then all our trouble will be lost. We came here to liberate a brother Royalist — Colonel Gunter of Racton,” he added, in a low voice, to the old Cavalier.
“Ha!” exclaimed Colonel Maunsel, warmly grasping the hand of the newly- liberated prisoner. “I knew him not, but was about to make an effort for his liberation. However, you have got the start of me.
“Nevertheless, I thank you as heartily, Colonel Maunsel, as if you had been first to help me,” said Colonel Gunter. And he then added, in a low tone, “We came to consult with you about procuring a vessel, either at Newhaven or Shoreham, to convey his Majesty to France.”
“A word, ere I answer you!” exclaimed the old Cavalier, eagerly. “You can assure me, I trust, that his Majesty is in safety?”
“We have every reason to believe so,” replied Gunter. “Lord Wilmot left him at Boscobel in the care of loyal liegemen, who will guard him with their life — as you would guard him, colonel. But how think you? Can a vessel be procured?”
“I doubt it not,” said the old Cavalier. “There is a skipper of Shoreham, named Nicholas Tattersall, who is master of a fast-sailing brig, called the Swiftsure. I know him to be an honest fellow, who may be trusted in such an enterprise; but, unluckily, he is away at present — at Plymouth, I believe — and his return is uncertain.”
“Nicholas Tattersall! I shall not forget the name, colonel,” replied Gunter. “If his Majesty should not otherwise be provided, Tattersall shall be our man.”
“If we ourselves do not depart at once we shall have small chance of lending his Majesty further aid,” said Lord Wilmot. “Will you not go with us, Colonel Maunsel? If you stay, you will have to brook the rage — perhaps the vengeance — of that disappointed and savage Ironside captain.”
“I fear him not,” replied the old Cavalier. “I will not quit my house, unless forced from it.”
Despite the hurry and confusion of the moment, it will not be supposed that Clavering — aware of her presence — would fail to seek out Dulcia. When his father became engaged with Colonel Gunter he instantly took advantage of the opportunity offered him to fly to her. The poor damsel needed his support. The sudden revulsion of feeling she experienced was too much for her. Her lover’s fate had appeared to her to be sealed. Escape for him from the clutches of Stelfax seemed impossible. Yet at the very moment when such an occurrence was least expected, he stood before her — free! Yes, free! The garb in which he was arrayed told how he had escaped. But explanation was unneeded. Enough for her he was out of the power of his relentless captor, who had pronounced that his doom would be death. After gazing at him for a short space intently, through eyes streaming with tears, she gave utterance to a wild, irrepressible cry of delight, which had yet something thrilling and painful about it, and sank upon his shoulder. Mr. Beard, who was standing beside his daughter, watching her with great anxiety, would have removed her, but Clavering besought him to forbear.
“Leave her with me for a moment, good sir,” he said. “My time is short. Heaven only knows when we shall meet again!”
“Place yourself wholly in the hands of Providence, my dear young friend,” the clergyman rejoined. “After this display of His mercy manifested towards you, you can never doubt His ability to aid you, if He be so minded. Resign yourself, henceforth, to His will and guidance.”
“My heart is full to overflowing with gratitude to the Great Disposer of Events,” said Clavering; “but He would not have us remain inactive. As He prompts, we must obey. If I might counsel you, I would urge you to fly for a season with Dulcia from this dwelling, and seek a more secure asylum elsewhere.”
“Whither should I go?” Mr. Beard replied. “There is no place of security for me and for my child. No, I will not voluntarily quit the house that has sheltered me so long. I will not desert the patron who has so long befriended me, and who has need of my ministry and assistance. And my child will tarry with me.”
“To the last, father,” Dulcia cried, raising her head. “My place is near your side, and I will never abandon it.”
“I would not have you do so!” exclaimed Clavering. “But it drives me almost to distraction to think what may happen when that fierce Republican officer returns. I cannot — will not leave you.
“You must — you must, dear Clavering,” said Dulcia. “Fly with your friends, and think not of us, or think that we are under the protection of a watchful Providence. Your staying here would not add to our security, and would lead to your own certain recapture. Go! — go with my father’s blessing, and my own heartfelt wishes for your preservation. Stay not a moment longer. Pray Heaven you have not stayed too long already!”
This latter exclamation was caused by a movement of alarm among the Royalists. A noise was heard outside, announcing the return of Stelfax and his men.
“They are upon us!” exclaimed Lord Wilmot. “Secure the door, and extinguish the lights.”
The latter order was instantly obeyed, and the first part of the directions was attended to with equal promptitude by John Habergeon and Ninian, who, flying to the door, bolted and barred it.
Before proceeding further, we may mention that Ninian had found Patty’s presence as irresistible as that of Dulcia proved to his young master. Marching up to her in military fashion, but with rather more swagger in his gait than was consistent with his Roundhead accoutrements, he tried to catch her in his arms. Patty either did not recognize him at first in his disguise, or pretended not to do so, for she screamed slightly, and checked his attempted familiarity by a sound box on the ear. However, an explanation quickly ensued, and she was congratulating him on his escape, when the alarm of Stelfax’s return was given as above narrated, and the young falconer suddenly recalled to sterner duties.
The door, which was of oak and of considerable strength, possessing, moreover, ponderous bolts and bars, was only just barricaded in time. The next moment it was forcibly tried, and the voice of Stelfax was heard furiously demanding admittance. The windows in front of the old mansion were deeply embayed, and projected far beyond the walls. They were built of stone, with massive upright posts and transverse bars; and the divisions between the bars were secured by iron stanchions, so that, although only curtains were drawn i
nside no danger of unlicensed entrance into the house was to be apprehended. Finding the door solid enough to resist all his efforts to burst it open, Stelfax turned his attention to the windows lighting the hall, and which were at no great height from the ground. But here, again, he was disappointed, as was shown by his exclamations, which, being uttered in a loud key, were quite audible to those inside.
“They are here,” cried the Ironside captain. “I am well assured of it. What ho! within,” he vociferated. “I summon you to surrender in the name of the Republic. Ye will be put to death if you resist.”
“Away with you upstairs!” cried Colonel Maunsel to Mr. Beard and the women. “Get out of harm’s way as quickly as you can. We shall have hot work presently. Take care of yourselves, and find some shelter,” he added to the others. “They are about to fire upon us.”
Thus cautioned, such members of the household as were left in the hall beat a hasty retreat into the passage leading to the buttery; Dulcia and Patty skipped up the great staircase, followed more leisurely by Mr. Beard, who deemed it inconsistent with his calling to display haste even at a moment of danger; while the others stepped quickly into the banqueting-room, the door of which was open. The next moment a loud explosion was heard. A volley of shot was poured against one of the windows, shivering the beautiful stained glass within it, while several of the bullets struck against the foot of the grand staircase. Luckily, no further damage was done.
“Now make for your horses with all possible dispatch,” cried Colonel Maunsel to Lord Wilmot and the others. “These knaves will go to the back of the house next, and try to cut off you retreat.”
“On my soul, I am half inclined to stay and give them battle,” Lord Wilmot said. “We are equal to them in numbers, I think, without counting your servants.”
“My servants must not be counted, my lord,” the old Cavalier replied. “They would go for nothing in a conflict of this kind, but, however disposed you may be for an engagement with the rascals, I would beg of you to depart. You owe it to his Majesty to care for your own safety.”
The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth Page 575
