It was ten o'clock at night; the town was dark and silent; the streets empty, and the windows generally closed, when Diggory Falgate advanced with a light gay step through various narrow ways towards the block-house where the Earl of Beverley was confined. He was followed at the distance of about a hundred yards by Ancient Hazard of the train-bands, and a short distance behind him came Captain Barecolt, with the silent step but wide stride of one well accustomed to dangerous enterprises.
The foremost of the party, we have said, advanced lightly and gaily, with that sort of braggadocio air which characterized the Cavaliers in almost all their undertakings, and which, or rather the foolish self-confidence of which it was the mere outward expression, ruined so many of their best concerted plans. Ancient Hazard, however, as he walked along, displayed a very different aspect. He was somewhat afraid of the business in hand; and, though resolved to carry it through, his head turned almost involuntarily to the right or left at every step, thinking that some one must be watching him, though the only suspicions that existed anywhere regarding his conduct were those in his own heart. Barecolt, on the contrary, though as likely as any man, from natural disposition, to make as much noise about whatever he did as was necessary, was too much habituated to enterprises of this kind to be particularly excited on the occasion, and his vanity took the direction of affecting to look upon it as a matter of course, so commonplace and easy that it allowed him to think of anything else; and he therefore followed with his eyes bent upon the ground, noticing, apparently, nothing that passed around him.
The first, and indeed only, obstruction that presented itself to their progress towards the block-house was offered by the watch, who, encountering good Diggory Falgate, carrying, it must be remarked, a small bundle under his arm, and not particularly approving of the jaunty air with which he gave them good-night, thought fit to stop him, and, in Shakspere's words, "prate of his whereabout."
Falgate was always ready to cry clubs, and strongly disposed to resist the watch when it could be done with the slightest probability of success; so that a very pretty quarrel was commencing, which might soon have conveyed him to prison, or the cage, had not Hazard come to his support, and informed the worthy guardians of the night that the captive in their hands was his poor neighbour Falgate the painter, who was not an ill-disposed man, though somewhat inclined to moisten his clay with more than a sufficient quantity of strong beer; and he moreover hinted that such might be the case on that very night.
This assurance proved so far satisfactory that the watch thought fit to let him go with a suitable admonition, and Hazard, acting his part better when he grew warm in the matter, bade Diggory, in a rough tone, go on about his business and not make broils in the streets, or he would get himself into mischief.
This said, the whole party proceeded on their way, resuming as soon as possible the same order of march as before, Captain Barecolt, with his grave and serious demeanour, passing the watch without question.
About five minutes after, Diggory emerged into the open space by the river side, and advancing straight towards the block-house, entered into conversation with the guard. What was said at first was in a low tone, but presently the sound of the voices grew louder and louder; angry words reached the corner of the street behind which Ancient Hazard had concealed himself; and, running across, he came up just in time to prevent the sentinel from knocking down the painter with the butt-end of his piece.
The plan agreed upon was now fully carried out: the ancient of the train-bands, while threatening Falgate sharply with the stocks and the prison, was still more severe upon the sentinel, and commanded him immediately to march back to the guard-house and send down the next man upon the roll. He would keep guard while the other was gone, he said, and the man, giving up his musket, walked away proceeding about fifty yards towards the opposite buildings before he recollected the orders of the governor, to keep all persons at a distance from the spot where he was in conference with the prisoner. He accordingly paused, and Hazard, who had been watching him closely, walked up, asking why he stopped when he had orders to go straight to the guard-house. The man excused himself, and transmitted the commands he had received from the governor, upon which his ancient desired him to go on, returning slowly towards the block-house.
"By this time, however, Barecolt had run across in the darkness from the mouth of the opposite street, and, with Falgate behind him, was groping over the door for the key which he had seen in the lock on the preceding morning. He found the keyhole, however, untenanted, and at that moment the exclamation burst from his lips which had so much alarmed Sir John Hotham.
"They have taken the key out," he cried; "curse me if I don't force the lock off with my dagger!" and he was proceeding to act accordingly, when, to his surprise, the door was opened, the light broke forth from within, and Lord Beverley suddenly clapped his hand upon his mouth, whispering, "Not a word of recognition!" Then, in a louder tone, he demanded, "Whom and what do you seek here, sir!"
Barecolt for a single instant was puzzled as to whether he should speak French or English; but Lord Beverley had used nothing but the latter tongue, and he replied in the same, while with open eyes he seemed to demand further explanation, "I was seeking some one whom it seems I am not likely to find."
"You may look in, sir; you will see no one here," answered the earl; and Barecolt gave a hurried look around, saw the curtain of the bed on the opposite side drawn forward, and with a wink of the eye gave the royal officer to understand that he began to comprehend.
"That is enough," continued the earl, assuming somewhat suddenly a foreign accent; "you are now satisfied; go away."
Barecolt instantly withdrew a step; but the earl followed him, and added, in a whisper, "You seem at liberty--I shall be so soon--out of the town as fast as you can, and either wait for me on the road to York, as near as is safe, or tell the king all that has happened, and that I will rejoin him speedily, I trust, with good news."
Thus saying, he drew back, shut the door, and locked it, as before, in the inside.
Captain Barecolt laid his finger on the side of his nose. "Here is something going on here," he said to himself. "Well, I will obey orders: it is not my fault if his lordship will not get out of the mousetrap. Now, Master Falgate, now, Master Hazard, let us be off as fast as we can to the 'Swan.'"
"I must stay here till the guard comes," answered Hazard, in a low tone. "Why, what is all this? The sentry said something about the governor. Will not the prisoner come out?"
"No," replied Barecolt; "he would rather stay in: nevertheless, as he is a wise man, Master Hazard, doubtless he has his reasons. Well, follow us to the 'Swan' as quickly as you can, and we will talk more."
"I will--I will," answered Hazard; "away with you, quick! if any one were to come and find you here with me, I were ruined."
Barecolt and Falgate hurried on, and in about five minutes reached the "Swan," the door of which was partly shut; but the moment they approached, the servant-girl, Nancy, put forth her head, saying, "Go up to your room, sir, quick; the old man is below--Dame White told me to say so."
"Thanks, Nancy!" replied Barecolt; and, contriving to conceal his face with his cloak, he crossed the passage, and, followed by Falgate, walked up the stairs. In the room of the worthy captain they found a light burning, and Falgate, laying down his bundle upon the table, asked, "Well, sir, what is the matter? Where does the pulley hitch? When men have the door open, why won't they walk out?"
"Good faith! I cannot tell, any more than I can what is in that bundle," observed Barecolt.
"That you shall soon be able to tell," replied Falgate. "It is all my worldly goods and chattels, sir. I am going with you to join the king."
"A good resolution," answered Barecolt, abruptly.--"Pray, Master Falgate, have you money to buy a horse? A man is nothing without a horse, you know."
"Ay, that I have," replied the painter; "but where to get one is the question."
"Let not that embarrass you," rejoined Barecolt, with a well-satisfied and patronizing air. "A man of action and experience, like myself, is never unprovided. I will find you one between this and Newlands."
Falgate admired with such evident admiration that Barecolt treated him to a story of his adventures once in the Carpathian Mountains, where the safety of himself and his whole company was secured by his having taken the precaution to put a thimble in his pocket. Before this was concluded they were joined by Hazard, whose watch had passed undisturbed till he was relieved by another of the train-bands; and the three remained near an hour together, and partook of some of the landlady's good wine. Hazard then issued forth, and consultations manifold took place between Mrs. White and Barecolt, after which the good lady paid a furtive visit to poor Arrah Neil; for by this time Master Dry, of Longsoaken, had retired to rest. There were then further conferences in the room of Barecolt, and at length the inn sank into repose.
About half-an-hour before daybreak, however, four persons silently assembled in the hall: few words were spoken; but good Mrs. White, with a tear in her eye at the thoughts of other days, kissed the cheek of the fair girl, who leaned trembling on the arm of Barecolt. The door was quietly unbolted and opened; three of the party went out, and the fourth, retiring, closed it after them. The others walked slowly on towards the gate of the town, and just as they approached, the faint dawn of day began to give light to the streets.
"Give the young lady your arm, Master Painter," said Barecolt, "and answer to whatever I say to you, that you will set about it whenever you have seen the young woman to Newlands."
Falgate, who was now in his working dress, nodded his head, and gave his arm for Arrah's support, while Barecolt advanced to the gate, and, giving the word with which he had been furnished, ordered the wicket to be opened, in an authoritative tone. It had not the full success he could have wished, however; for the man would do nothing further than call his officer, so that some five minutes were lost. At length, however, the officer appeared, and as he had seen our worthy captain on the day before, and examined his pass, no further difficulties were made in his case. In regard to Falgate, however, the matter was different, and he was asked, in a surly and somewhat suspicious tone, whither he was going so early in the morning.
"He be coming vid me to see one ting dere be to do at de nort end of de curtain," said Barecolt; "but all you English have too much to do vid de girl, and he say he cannot do it till he be come back from Newlands; but you remember, sair," he added, turning to Falgate, "if I find you not about it by seven of de clock, I turn you off."
"I will set about it, sir, as soon as I have seen the young woman to Newlands," replied Falgate, bobbing his head; and the whole party passed out of the gates, which were closed behind them.
"Now go on, and wait for me at the first little public-house you come to," whispered Captain Barecolt, as soon as he and his companions had passed the gates of Hull. "I will not be a minute;" and, turning away underneath the wall which surrounded the city, he appeared with a shrewd eye to be examining the fortifications. Lucky it was for him that he did so; for, the moment after, the officer of the guard, having been roused somewhat early from his slumber, and thinking it unnecessary to go to bed again, sauntered forth to enjoy the breeze of the morning, and to observe what the strange captain was about. No sooner did our worthy friend, giving a backward glance towards the gates, perceive that he was watched, than, without a moment's deliberation, he beckoned the officer up to him, and addressed him when he approached with a torrent of engineering terms, some in French, some in English, some in a language compounded of the two.
"Begar," he cried, after having vented a great deal of learning upon the incomprehensive ears of his auditor, "I not able to tell what de gouverneur vill have do here. Look, sair; look, my good friend: if I be not much mistake, dat hill dare, not above one half-mile off, command de bastion all along. Let me beseech you, have de bounty to take von leetle valk up to de top of de hill. Den vid one stick making a level--so; see if de line do not cover de top of de curtain--c'est à dire, if it do notdominéit. You understand?"
"Oh, yes; I understand quite well," replied the officer of the train-bands; "but I'll tell you what, captain: you must go yourself, for I cannot leave the guard."
"Sapristi!dat be true," said Barecolt, turning away and walking towards the slight elevation he had pointed out. The officer of the guard watched him for a moment, as with his usual dignified stride he walked on towards the hill, and then turning back again to the gates, entered, causing them once more to be closed behind him.
Barecolt paused when he reached the top of the rise, and turning round, examined the town of Hull, but more especially the gate from which he had issued forth, making sundry gesticulations as if he were endeavouring to ascertain the relative height of the hill and the fortifications, suspecting that some one might be observing him still. In doing so, however, he scanned every nook and corner with a curious eye, and having satisfied himself that he was not watched, he turned sharply to the left, regained the road along which Falgate and Arrah Neil had taken their way; and, covered by a small clump of trees which grew near at that time, he hurried on with long steps towards the little public-house which Hugh O'Donnell had mentioned.
The pace at which he went was so rapid that, notwithstanding the interruption he had met with, he came in sight of the little solitary house just at the moment that Arrah Neil and her companion reached it. There was a tall man standing at the door; and the next instant, before Captain Barecolt came up, three horses were led out by a man and a boy, and the worthy captain could see his Irish acquaintance, Mr. O'Donnell, lift the fair girl upon one of the beasts, and then, approaching his head close to her ear, appear to whisper to her eagerly for several minutes.
Whatever was the nature of his communication, it was just over when Captain Barecolt laid his hand upon the Irishman's shoulder; and Mr. O'Donnell only added the words, "Remember, to none but himself, or her."
He then turned to Captain Barecolt, exclaiming, "Quick, quick! upon your horse's back, and away!"
"Oh, there's no such haste, Master O'Donnell!" replied Barecolt, who loved not to receive the word of command from a merchant. "Nothing but cowardice is ever in a hurry; so what is to pay for the horses, my friend?"
"Seventeen pounds for that," replied O'Donnell, pointing to one, "and two-and-twenty pounds for the other, which you had better mount yourself, lest your long legs touch the ground. They are cheap."
"Cheap or dear, they must be paid for," replied Barecolt; "and they don't seem bad beasts either. Come, Master Falgate, bring forth the crowns; you see, having short legs saves you five pounds;" and while the worthy painter unfolded his bundle, in which, besides his own apparel, were now contained such parts of Barecolt's goods and chattels as he thought it absolutely necessary to take with him, the captain drew forth a leathern purse and disbursed the sum required for his own beast, which operation, to say the truth, left his pocket but scantily garnished.
"Now, mount, mount, Master Falgate!" continued Barecolt. "T'other side of your horse, man, and t'other foot in the stirrup, or we shall have you with your face to the tail. Now, Mistress Arrah, are you ready?"
But when he turned to look at her, Arrah Neil had fallen into one of her deep fits of abstraction, and he had to repeat the question before she roused herself.
"Yes, yes," she answered with a start, "I am ready;" and then turning to O'Donnell, added, "I remember it all now. That name, like the sudden drawing of a curtain, has let in the light upon memory, and I see the past."
"God speed you, young lady!" replied O'Donnell; "but now hasten upon your way, and I will take mine; for it will not be long ere your flight is discovered, and before that I hope I shall be in my house, and you many miles hence."
Thus saying he waved his hand, and Barecolt, striking his horse with his heel, led the way along the road at a quick pace. Arrah Neil followed, and was at his side in a moment; but good Diggory Falgate, who seemed less accustomed to equestrian exercise than either of his companions, was not a little inconvenienced by the trotting of his horse. Merciless Captain Barecolt, however, though, to tell the truth, he saw the difficulty with which their companion followed them at a still increasing distance, kept up the same rapid rate of progression for some six or seven miles, speaking now and then a word to his fair companion, but showing, upon the whole, wonderful abstinence from his usual frailty. At length they reached the top of a long sloping hill which commanded a view over a wide extent of country behind them, and along at least one-half of the road they had followed from Hull; and turning his horse for a moment or two, Captain Barecolt paused and examined the track beneath his eyes, to see if he could discover any signs of pursuit. All was clear, however. The sun, now risen a degree or two above the horizon, but still red and large from the horizontal mist through which it shone, cast long shadows from tree, and house, and village spire, over the ground in some places, and in others, bright gleams of rosy light; but almost all the world seemed still slumbering, for no moving object was to be seen on the road, and nothing even in the fields around but where team of horses driven slowly by a whistling ploughman, at about a hundred yards upon the left of the party on the hill, wended slowly onward to commence their labours for the day.
"You may go a little slower now, young lady," said Barecolt, after he had concluded his examination; "we have a good start of them, and I do not think they would venture to send out far in pursuit."
"Thank God!" answered Arrah Neil, not in the common tone of satisfaction with which those words are usually pronounced, but with the voice of heartfelt gratitude to Him from whom all deliverance comes. "But do you think we are really safe?" continued Arrah, after a moment's thought. "Perhaps it would be better to go on quickly for a time; but that good man who came with us seems hardly able to make his horse keep up with us."
"Then we will make him lead as soon as he comes up," answered Barecolt; "we can follow at his pace, for I think we are secure enough just now. The truth is, he is evidently unaccustomed to a horse's back, and sits his beast like a London tapster in a city pageant. 'Tis a lamentable thing, Mistress Arrah, that so few people in this country ever learn to ride. Now, before I was twelve years old, there was not apasof themanégethat I could not make the wildest horse perform; and serviceable indeed have I found it in my day; for I remember well when the small town of Alais was taken, which I had aided to defend, with twenty other gentlemen of different nations, we determined that we would have nothing to do with the capitulation; and on the morning when the king's troops were just about to march into the town, we issued forth to cut our way out, or to find it through them in some manner. We had not gone above three hundred yards from the gate when we found a line of pikemen drawn up across the road and in a meadow. There were no other troops on that side of the town, for the chief attack was at another point; but as soon as they saw us, down went their pikes, when, crying 'Now, gentlemen, follow me!' I dashed up to them as if to charge. I was mounted on a swift and powerful horse--I called him Drake, in memory of the great Sir Francis; but, just as I was at the point of their pikes, I lifted him on his haunches, struck my spurs into his flanks, and with one spring over the line we went."
"And what became of the rest?" asked Arrah Neil.
"You shall hear," replied Barecolt. "The horse as he came over lashed out behind, and striking one of the pikemen on the head, dashed in his steel cap and his skull together, so that down he went, and my friends charging on, cut a way for a part of themselves before the confusion was over. Five got through and joined me; but the rest had to eat cold steel."
"They were killed?" asked Arrah Neil. "Alas! war is a sad thing."
"Very true," replied Barecolt; "but one comes to think of it as nothing. It is the occupation of brave men and gentlemen; and when one makes up one's mind every day to lose one's life if need be, he does not think much of seeing others go a few hours before us. If I could call up again all the men I have seen killed, since I first smelt powder when I was about fifteen, I should have a pretty strong army of ghosts to fight the Roundheads with.----Well, Master Falgate," he continued, as the painter came up, "you seem red in the face and out of breath."
"Ugh! there never was such a beast!" exclaimed Falgate. "It is like riding a rhinoceros. He has as many hard knobs in him as a cow, and his pace is like a galloping earthquake. Oons, captain! you go so fast, too!"
"Well, my good friend, tell me," said Barecolt, "did you ever take a journey on a horse before?"
"No," replied Falgate boldly, "else I do not think I should ever have got on one again. But, in pity, good Captain Barecolt, don't go at such a rate, or faith you must leave me behind, which would not be like a goodcamarado."
"No, no; we won't leave you behind, Falgate," replied Barecolt, "and for that reason we will make you go first. So shall we be ready to pick you up if you fall off; and you can go at your own pace, though it must be the quickest you can manage."
"Oh, butter and eggs for ever!" cried Falgate, putting himself in the van, and going on at a jog-trot: "if an old market-woman can keep her seat and not break her eggs, I do not see why one of the lords of the creation should tumble off and crack his bones."
"Nor I either," replied Barecolt; "and if he do, he deserves to break his head. But get on a little faster, Master Falgate, or we shall have the fat citizens of Hull at our heels."
"Oh, no fear! no fear!" rejoined Falgate; "they are all miraculous horsemen, and ride as well as I do; so, unless the governor pursue you in person, and bring all the horses out of his own stable, you may ride to York and back before any of them will stir. Would that the man who sold me this horse were in as sore a skin as he who bought it," he continued, after a short pause; "I am sure he must have had an ill-will at my poor bones--plague light upon him!"
"Ah, no!" cried Arrah Neil. "He is a good and a kind man."
"He is a very close one," replied Barecolt; "for I know, young lady, I tried my best yesterday to worm out of him all the secrets that we wanted to know; but he held his mouth as tight shut as the shell of an oyster."
"He had a reason, doubtless," answered Arrah Neil, falling into thought again.
"Well, if he have told you all about it," rejoined Barecolt, assuming an indifferent air, "it does not matter. I have no curiosity. Only when we wish to send despatches securely, we give a copy to two separate messengers, and if, as I understood him, you are to tell Lord Walton or the young lady, it might have been better to inform me too, as then I could have carried them the intelligence in case of our being separated and of my seeing them first."
"Perhaps it might have been better," said Arrah Neil; "but all promises are sacred things, and, methinks, more especially, promises to the dead."
"Ay, that they are," answered Barecolt, who saw that he was not likely to learn from his fair companion what had been the substance of her conversation with O'Donnell. "Ay, that they are. I remember a very curious and entertaining story about that, which happened at the siege of a certain town, when I was serving in the north. I will tell it to you as we go; it will serve to while away the time."
"There is a little town called Le Catelet, just upon the French frontier, which was besieged by the Spanish army, after the French had taken it and held it for about a year. The attack began in the winter, and a number of honourable gentlemen threw themselves into it, to aid in the defence as volunteers. Amongst the rest were two friends who had fought in a good many battles together. One was called the Viscount de Boulaye, and the other the Capitaine la Vacherie. Every day there were skirmishes and sallies, and one night when they were sitting drinking and talking together, after a very murderous sortie, Capitaine la Vacherie said to his friend--
"'How cold those poor fellows must be whom we left dead in the trenches to-day!'
"'Ay, that they must!' said Boulaye; 'and 'pon my life, La Vacherie, I am glad the place is so full that you and I have but one room and one bed between us, otherwise I know not how we should keep ourselves warm.'
"'Nor I either,' replied La Vacherie. 'Mind, Boulaye, if I am some day left in the trenches, you come and look for me, and bring me out of the cold wind.'
"He spoke laughing, and the viscount answered in the same way--
"'That I will, La Vacherie; don't you be afraid.'
"Well, about a fortnight after, the Spaniards attempted to storm the place; but they were driven back, after fighting for near an hour, and Boulaye and La Vacherie, with the regiment of Champagne, pursued them to their entrenchments. Boulaye got back, safe and sound, to the town just as it was growing dark, and went to the governor's house, talked for an hour over the assault, and then returned to his room, and asked his servant if Capitaine la Vacherie had come back. The man answered No; and so Boulaye swore that he would be hanged if he would wait for his supper. When supper came and La Vacherie did not, the viscount began to think, 'I should not wonder if that poor devil, La Vacherie, had left his bones outside;' and after he had eaten two or three mouthfuls, and drunk a glass or two of wine, he sent the servant to the quarters of the regiment of Champagne, to see if he could hear anything of his friend. But the servant could find no one who knew anything of him; and when he came back, he found the viscount sitting with the table and the wine upon his right hand, and his feet upon the two andirons, with a warm fire of wood blazing away before him. When he told him that he could learn nothing, Boulaye exclaimed--.
"'Sacrement!I dare say he is dead: poor fellow, I am very sorry;' and he filled himself another glass of wine, and kept his foot on the andirons. In about half-an-hour more he went to bed, and, just as he was getting comfortable and beginning to doze, seeing the fire flickering against the wall one minute and not seeing it the next, he heard a step upon the stairs, and instantly recollected La Vacherie's, who came up singing and talking just as usual.
"'Ah!' cried he, 'La Vacherie, is that you? I thought you had been killed!'
"'The deuce you did, Boulaye,' replied La Vacherie; and he began to move about the bottles and glasses as if he were feeling for a candle to light it.
"'Well, don't make a noise, there's a good man,' said Boulaye; 'for I am tired, and have a good deal to do tomorrow.'
"'I'm sure so have I,' replied La Vacherie, 'so I will go to bed at once.'
"'Had you not better have some supper?' asked the viscount.
"'No,' replied his friend; 'I've had all the supper I want;' and accordingly he pulled off his clothes and lay down beside his comrade. But by that time the viscount was asleep, so that they had no further conversation that night. The next morning when Viscount de Boulaye awoke, he found that La Vacherie had already risen, and left his nightcap upon the pillow, and he did not see him again till night, for the enemy made several fierce attacks, and all the troops of the garrison were busy till sunset. Well, he supped alone that night as before, and just as he got into bed, he heard La Vacherie's step again, and again he came in, and again he would eat no supper, but went to bed as before. The viscount, however, did not sleep so easily this night, for he thought there was something odd about his friend. So after lying for about half-an-hour, he said, 'La Vacherie, are you asleep?'
"'Not yet,' replied La Vacherie; 'but I shall soon be so.'
"'Well, I want to ask you something,' said Boulaye, turning himself sharp round, and as he did so, his hand came against La Vacherie's. It was like a bit of ice!
"'Why, how cold you are!' cried the viscount.
"'And how can you expect me to be otherwise,' replied La Vacherie, in a terrible voice, 'when you left me out there in the trenches through two long January nights?' and that moment he jumped out of bed, threw open the window, and went off. His body was found next morning where he had been killed two days before."
Arrah Neil was silent; but Falgate, who, while riding on at his slow pace had kept one ear always open to his companion's story, turned round and asked, "But what became of the viscount?"
"Why, when the town capitulated," replied Barecolt, "he went into a Capuchin convent, and was called Father Henry.--But, hark! There is the sound of a trumpet, by the Lord Harry! Gallop, Falgate! gallop! or I'll drive my sword through you!" and at the same time he drew the weapon and pricked forward the horse of his companion with the point.
The Galloway, for it deserved no higher title, started on, lashing out behind in a manner that had nearly sent the poor painter out of the saddle and over its head; but when once the beast had fairly started in a gallop, Falgate found his seat much more comfortable than at a trot; and away the whole party went at full speed over hill and dale for about a mile and a half, when suddenly, to Barecolt's surprise, the sound of a trumpet was again heard upon his left nearer than before. After pausing for a moment to listen, he made up his mind that whatever body of men were near, they did not come from the side of Hull; but judging that when escorting treasure or a lady he should best show his valour by discretion, the renowned captain turned sharp off from the high-road down a lane to his right, and after having gone rather more than one mile in that direction, through pleasant rows of trees, without hearing any more of the sounds which had alarmed him, he pulled up at a house, from the front of which a pole bearing a garland protruded over the road, indicating that some sort of entertainment would there be found for way-faring travellers.
"We will here water our horses, Mistress Arrah," he said; "and keeping in mind that we may not find loyal subjects in every house, we will refresh the inner man with gravity and moderation;" and assuming a sad and sanctimonious air, he addressed a dry-looking man who presented himself, asking if they could obtain wherewithal to strengthen themselves for their further journey. A ready affirmative was given, and, aiding Arrah Neil from her horse, Barecolt led her in, and then, never forgetting his military habits, returned to see that the beasts were taken care of. The landlord followed him out, and the worthy captain continued to eye him with a considerate glance as he aided in washing the horses' mouths and taking out their bits. By the time this was accomplished, Barecolt's opinion of his companion was completely formed, and when the latter remarked, "You seem to have been riding very bard, master," he replied in a solemn tone, much to the astonishment of Diggory Falgate--
"Yea, verily have we, for the sound of a trumpet met our ears, and we feared, being few in number, to fall in with a party of the swaggering malignants who we hear are riding about the country. Wilt thou get the horses, little corn, my friend?"
"Right willingly, master," replied the host; "I see thou art a godly man, and I am glad to serve thee."
The moment he was gone, Barecolt whispered to Falgate, who had remained silent, partly from fatigue and partly from surprise, "We must cozen the crop-eared knave. Whine, cant, and look devout, Master Falgate, and forget your swagger if you can."
"By St. Winifred!" replied Falgate, "this rough beast has taken all the swagger out of me. I can hardly stand, captain."
"Well, get thee in," replied Barecolt, "and leave me to deal with him. The best thing for thee to do is to hold thy tongue, for if thou once openest thy mouth we shall see some profane saint or other popping out, and marking thee for a malignant in a minute."
After remaining for some ten minutes more at the door, in slow and solemn converse with the host, Barecolt stalked into the house, and found Arrah Neil sitting with her beautiful head leaning on her fair hand, and her elbow resting on a table very respectably covered with provisions.
"Now let us to our meat," said Barecolt, "for we must soon be on our way again."
Falgate was instantly settling himself upon a stool to fall to, without further ceremony; but the captain gave him a grave admonishing look, and standing before the table with his clasped hands resting on his stomach, and the two thumbs elevated towards his chin, began a grace which had well nigh exhausted the patience of Falgate before it was done, but which greatly edified the master of the house. After this was concluded, they all sat down to meat; and Barecolt, who well knew that the portion of good things which the saintly men of his day allotted themselves was by no means small, carved away at the joints without any modesty, and loaded his own plate amongst others with a mess sufficient for an ogre.
Alas for the brief period of mundane felicity! Scarcely had three mouthfuls passed between Ins grinders, scarcely had one deep draught from the foaming tankard wetted his lips, when the sound of many horses' feet was heard, and the next instant the detestable blast of the trumpet was once more heard before the door. The landlord, who, as was then very customary, had sat down to share the meal prepared for his guests, started up, and ran out to the door, while Barecolt quietly approached the window and looked forth; then returning to the table, he whispered in a low voice to Diggory Falgate and Arrah Neil, "A party of the drunken tapsters and pimpled-nosed serving-men whom the roundhead rebels call cavalry. Master Falgate, be as silent as a church mouse, I command you, and answer not more than a monosyllable, whatever is asked you."
Are they from Hull?" demanded Arrah Neil, in a tone of alarm, as Barecolt resumed his seat and began to eat.
"No, I think not," replied the gallant captain; "but we shall soon see, for here come some of them along the passage;" and as he spoke the door opened, giving admission to a stout, short-set man in a well-worn buff coat.
The parliamentarian looked at Captain Barecolt, and Captain Barecolt looked at the parliamentarian. The former had a cynical sort of smile on his countenance, as if he recognised in the worthy captain a personage whom he had seen before under different circumstances; but Barecolt's face was a perfect blank, at least if that which bore so prominent a gnomon could be called so. At all events it said nothing; there was not the slightest glance of recognition in his eyes; there was not the smallest curl of consciousness round his mouth. He looked full in the officer's face, with the stare of a stranger, for very nearly a minute, and then civilly asked him if he would not sit down and join their party.
"No, I thank you," replied the parliamentarian, with the same sneering smile; "but I think I shall ask you to join ours."
"I am much obliged, my friend," replied Barecolt, without any change of countenance; "but I have nearly dined."
"Dined or not dined," rejoined the other, "you must come along with me."
"How now?" cried Barecolt, rising with a look of indignation; "I thought, from your look, that you were a God-fearing and worthy man; but if you be, as I now judge from your words, one of the malignant fermenters of strife in Israel, I tell you you are in the wrong part of the country to play your pranks, even if you had a company of swaggering rakehelly troopers at your heels."
"Come, come," replied the other, "I am what I seem, and what you know me right well to be. Did you ever hear of a certain Captain Batten, sir? Were you ever at such a place as Bishop's Merton?"
"Of a Captain Batten I have heard when I was in London," replied Barecolt, boldly, "and I have seen him too, but you are not he; for, in the first place, he is a godly and well-disposed person, and in the next place I do not recollect you. Then, as for Bishop's Merton, the very name of it is naught, and smacks of Prelacy and Popery."
"I am not Captain Batten, certainly," replied the other; "but I was cornet of his troop when you were at Bishop's Merton, and I watched you well along the road for forty miles and more, after you had made him prisoner. You have changed your dress, but I know you, Captain Barecolt."
"Captain Barecolt!" cried our worthy friend, lifting up his hands and eyes with a look of astonishment and indignation; "am I never to have done with Captain Barecolt? This is the third time within these four days that I have been mistaken for that good-for-nothing, worthless fellow. If ever I meet him I will cut off that nose of his, or he shall cut off mine, that there may be no more mistaking between us. However, sir, if you are really, as you say, a cornet of Captain Batten's troop, I am glad to meet you: there is my hand, and I am quite prepared to show you to your satisfaction that I am not the swaggering malignant you take me for, but a poor officer of French extraction, whose parents took refuge in this land during the persecutions of those who fought as I do for the cause of true faith and freedom of conscience. My name is Jersval, and you must, most likely, have heard of it, as I have for the last three months been assisting that worthy and pious man, Sir John Hotham, in strengthening the fortifications of Hull."
The officer looked at him for a moment or two with a bewildered stare; for, though he thought he could have sworn to the person of the man who had been pointed out to him, not many weeks before, as Captain Barecolt, a notorious malignant, yet the captain's coolness and effrontery were so great as almost to overbear his belief. He was not convinced, indeed, but he was staggered; and being somewhat of a dogged nature, he resolved to resist giving credence to mere assertions, however boldly made.
"Come, come," he said, "you say you can give me proofs. Where are they? I know your face quite well. The proofs--the proofs, man, or you must away with me to Hull."
"Be that at your peril, sir," replied Barecolt, with an air of dignity. I am travelling on business of importance for the governor, and I will resist being stopped to the shedding of blood. As to the proofs, here they are. You probably know Sir John Hotham's signature; and as he spoke, he drew forth from his pocket the pass which he had obtained from the governor of Hull.
So well had he combined all the particulars of his story, that every word in the pass tallied exactly with what he had said before. He was called therein the French officer, Captain Jersval, employed upon the fortifications; and all the authorities of the town and its dependencies, as well as all persons well affected to the state, were enjoined to give him free passage, aid, and assistance on all lawful occasions. The parliamentarian, as he read, became more and more bewildered, and indeed somewhat doubtful of Captain Barecolt's identity. The landlord also joined in on behalf of his guest, and vouched for his having behaved himself in a very comely and discreet manner. The Roundhead was, however, of a stubborn and stiff-necked race, as I have before hinted. He was far more inclined to believe his own eyes than any piece of paper in the world; and although he read the pass twice, he looked at Captain Barecolt often, each time muttering between his teeth an expression of conviction that he was right after all.
"Well, it does not signify," he said aloud, at length; "you shall go to Hull. You may have stolen this pass, or forged it, for aught I know. Unless some one can swear that you are the same man here spoken of, back you shall troop."
"That I can swear," cried Diggory Falgate, starting up, and forgetting his companion's injunctions to silence.
"And who, in the fiend's name, may you be?" demanded the parliamentary soldier, growing hot; for Barecolt had by this time quietly freed his long sword from the sheath, and placed his back towards the corner, giving a glance as he did so to the window, across which two other figures on horseback passed at the moment.
"Who am I?" said Falgate; "a citizen of Hull, sir; and I am ready to swear that I saw that gentleman walking and talking with the governor yesterday, and that he is the same to whom that pass was given."
"Go to, go to!" said the parliamentarian scornfully; "you seem some mechanic, who can know nought of such matters. Meddle with what concerns you, good man. Landlord, call in two of my troopers."
"Be it at your peril and theirs," replied Barecolt, in a voice of extraordinary loudness, bringing the point of his weapon towards the chest of his opponent who had taken a step forward. "Whoever says I am not Captain Jersval, lately employed by Sir John Hotham on the fortification of Hull, is a liar, and the consequence be upon his own head."
Just as he was pronouncing in a stentorian voice this recapitulation of the qualities and titles he thought fit to assume, and while Arrah Neil was drawing back to the farther side of the room with some alarm, but with the profound silence she had preserved throughout this scene, the landlord opened the door to obey the order he had received; but he was encountered at the threshold by two gentlemen, whom, to say truth, Captain Barecolt had seen a minute or two before, crossing the window on horseback. Now our worthy friend, at his heart, did not know whether to be sorry or rejoice at their presence, for there was much matter for very mingled feelings in their sudden appearance.
The first face that presented itself was that of Lord Beverley; and with all Barecolt's bad qualities he had a certain degree of chivalrous generosity in his nature, which made him unwilling to have another engaged in the same awkward scrape as himself, especially when, as in the case of the earl, many important interests he feared might be periled by his capture, while his own apprehension would principally affect his own neck. He had therefore shouted aloud, as soon as he saw his noble companion dismount to enter the inn, for the purpose of giving him some notice of what was going on within; nor had his words failed to catch the earl's ear, for the distance from the door of the room to the door of the house was but a step, and the windows were open.
If, however, the sight of the earl caused Captain Barecolt as much alarm as pleasure, the face of the personage who followed was anything but satisfactory in his eyes; for the last time he had seen it was in earnest and apparently secret conference with Sir John Hotham; and our friend had no means whatsoever of knowing whether his evasion from Hull had become public before the earl and his companion had set out.
What was his surprise, however, when Lord Beverley advanced towards him, holding out his hand and exclaiming, "Ah! Captain Jersval, I was afraid I should have missed you, for we came by the cross-roads. But what is all this? Sword in hand, my gallant captain! What is all this, sir?" he continued, turning to the parliamentary officer with an air of authority. "I hope you are not molesting this gentleman, who is a very grave and respectable person, and not one to draw his sword upon anybody without just occasion."
Barecolt was for once in his life wise enough not to say a word. He did not venture to hint at his feats in the Cevennes; he said nothing of Navarre or Arragon; he uttered not the name of Rochelle, but quietly left the earl to settle it all his own way.
Falgate, too, was overpowered at the sudden recognition of Captain Barecolt as Captain Jersval, and the Roundhead officer looked foolish and confounded, muttering for a moment or two something about "a mistake," till he recovered himself sufficiently to return to his point and declare, "that if ever human eyes were to be trusted, the man calling himself Jersval was no other than one Captain Barecolt, a notorious malignant."
"And pray, sir, do you know me?" demanded the earl; "for you seem to be much more knowing than your neighbours."
"No, I never saw you before," replied the man, bluffly.
"But I know you, Master Stumpborough," said the earl's companion, advancing in turn. "At least, if I am not mistaken, you are the man I was told to look for while accompanying this gentleman on his road. You are the cornet of Batten's troop of horse, are you not?"
"The same, sir," replied the other with a stiff bow; "it seems we shall get at the truth of the matter now."
"It is only your stupid thick head that has prevented your getting at it before, Master Stumpborough," replied the gentleman. "This person whom you persist in calling Barecolt--you must be a bare colt yourself for your pains--is Captain Jersval, who has been employed by Sir John Hotham in strengthening the defences of our town, and who is now going on with this gentleman upon business of importance. We have been looking for him all along the road; so, if you had stopped or injured him, you would have lost your ears for your pains."
"I told him so! I told him so! I told him so!" cried Barecolt, at every pause in the other's words.
But the gentleman from Hull proceeded to hand a small paper to the parliamentarian. "There is a word or two for you from Sir John. Now get ready to march on without further delay. I will return with you. I think, sir," he continued, addressing the earl, "you will not want me any more."
"No, I thank you, sir," replied Lord Beverley; "I can find my way on with my companions here. Commend me to Sir John, and accept my best thanks for your company so far."
While these few words were passing between the royalist nobleman and his companion of the road, the Roundhead officer had been spelling through Sir John Hotham's note, looking both puzzled with the writing and confounded with all that had lately taken place. When he had done, however, he thought fit to make an apology to Barecolt for taking him for the man he really was.
"I will never believe my eyes again, sir," he said, "for I would have sworn that you were that blaspheming ribaldy varlet, Barecolt, only dressed in a brown suit and with a steeple-crowned hat on. You are as like as two peas; only, now I think of it, he may be a little taller. But I hope you do not bear malice, sir; now I know who you are, I am satisfied; I only wished to do my duty."
"I certainly do not thank you, sir, for taking me, a peaceable and God-fearing man, for a blaspheming ribaldy varlet," replied Barecolt, with a solemn air, "but I forgive you, sir, I forgive you! Every man needs forgiveness more or less, and so farewell; but use your eyes to better purpose another time, and if ever you see Captain Barecolt, tell him that when next he and Jersval meet, I will set such a mark upon him that there shall be no more mistakes; and so fare you well."
A few words had in the meanwhile passed in a low tone between the earl and his companion from Hull, and the latter then took his leave, seeing the commander of the party of troopers and the landlord of the house out before him. Barecolt immediately turned a glance full of merriment to Lord Beverley; but that nobleman with a grave face put his finger to his lips, and then, seating himself at the table, said--"Well, Captain Jersval, by your leave I will share your dinner, which, by the fulness of the plates, seems to have been somewhat unpropitiously interrupted."
"Certainly, certainly, sir," said Barecolt, resuming his seat at the head of the table. "Come, Falgate; come, Mistress Arrah Neil."
At the latter name the earl started, and gazed at Arrah for a moment; but took no further notice, and only whispered to Barecolt, "Make haste!"