Chapter 56 - No Quarter! by Mayne Reid
An Introduction in the Saddle
“Who can they be? Not soldiers of the Parliament?”
“No; too much gaud and glitter for that.”
“Sir Henry Lingen’s!”
“Scarcely either. I heard Richard say Sir Henry’s men carry lances. These have none. More probably they’re from Monmouth, or rather Raglan. The old Marquis of Worcester’s greatly given to display; and his son, Lord Herbert. The shining peacock at their head is likely Herbert himself. They are Royalists, anyhow; that’s certain.”
The dialogue was between the sisters, commenced as they caught sight of the scarlet-coated horsemen, who had entered within their park. Hurriedly they talked, and in tone telling of agitation. For it was a spectacle to cause them alarm; King’s soldiers coming to Hollymead could mean no good, but all the opposite. Just the visitors foreshadowed by Vaga’s fears; her presentiment fulfilled after all!
“What can they be wanting, I wonder?” she queried in a half mechanical way. “Nothing with us, hope?”
“Not likely with us; but father. We were wishing him at home. How fortunate he isn’t?”
“But he may come at any time?”
“Indeed, yes. What’s to be done?” The elder sister seemed perplexed. Only for a short while; then a thought came to her aid; and half turning to the groom who attended them, she said,—
“Rees! Ride back through the firs; gently, and as if looking for something left behind. When on the other side go as fast as ever you can; out through the back gate. First round to Ruardean, to the cadger’s cottage. Tell Winny to come up to the house in all haste. Then gallop along the Gloucester road, and, if you meet your master, turn him back. You understand?”
Rees was a quick-witted Welshman, and did understand. Said so; and at once started to execute the order; riding slowly off towards the spinney, in zigzags, with body bent and eyes searching over the ground. Once under cover of the trees, however, he straightened himself in the saddle, and was soon outside the inclosure.
The despatching him had been but the work of a few seconds, and he was gone before any movement had been made by the soldiers, who were still halted at the gate.
“What have they stopped for?” again wondered Vaga. “Surely they intend going on to the house?”
“’Tis we who have stopped them. Their faces are turned this way—they see us?”
“Ah, yes! And two have separated from the rest—are coming towards us! What ought we to do?”
“We may as well await them here; ’twould be impossible to shun them now.”
“How should we receive them?”
“Why, civilly of course. We’ve no alternative but be civil to them. If it be the Lord Herbert we need not fear any special rudeness. Although they are Papists, the Raglan people have never yet—”
“It’s not the Lord Herbert?” interrupted Vaga of keener sight; her eye more occupied with the two making approach.
“How know, you it’s not?” demanded her sister, in some wonder. “You never saw him did you?”
“No; but I’ve seen the one we’ve been taking for him—the shining peacock, as you call him. So have you.”
“Who is he, then?”
“Prince Rupert!”
“So it is, indeed! And the other—”
“Reginald Trevor!”
By this the two horsemen were so near, there was no opportunity for the sisters to exchange further speech, save in undertone; Sabrina, as a last word of caution, whispering,—
“We are helpless, and must play a part I’ve thought of it; will tell you when we’re alone. So be more than civil; very polite.”
“I will try.”
Rupert, a little in the advance, was now up; and suddenly checked his charger to a halt, in such wise as to present the attitude of Mercury just alighted on a “heaven-kissing hill.”
“Fair ladies?” he said. “I have not the pleasure of knowing you. But this gentleman, who has, if you object not, will do me the honour of an introduction.”
“His Royal Highness, Prince Rupert,” announced Trevor, after saluting on his own account, somewhat awkwardly.
The “fair ladies” acknowledged the introduction with a bow; even smilingly, which was more than might have been expected. They said nothing, however, leaving the Prince to direct the course of conversation.
Well pleased with his reception he went on,—
“Apologies are owing for the interruption of your sport. I fear we’ve done that?”
“No, your Highness,” said Sabrina. “We had finished for the day.”
“Egad! A good finish too. I myself witnessed the kill, and never saw handsomer. Your peregrines are noble birds, and well trained to their work. Ah! you have a merlin, too. Pretty creature?”
By chance the merlin was perched upon the neck of Vaga’s palfrey; and, while speaking, the Prince had drawn close up, as if to get a nearer view of it. But his eyes were on the girl’s face instead, and the “pretty creature” seemed an apostrophe to her rather than the bird. For it was spoken with peculiar emphasis, and in a subdued tone, as if he did not desire her sister to hear it. Nor did she, having become engaged in conversation with Captain Trevor, some distance apart.
“She’s very clever,” rejoined Vaga, referring to the merlin, and without appearing to notice the gaze directed upon her,—“can kill everything she’s cast-off at.”
“Ah!” sighed the Prince. “Fatal to all the larks and buntings, just as the eyes of her mistress must be to all men.”
She looked at him with a puzzled expression. What a strange remark to make about her sister, whom he could never have seen, save that once as they passed him going out of Bristol! But she understood it, on his adding,—
“The little beauty is yours, I take it?”
“No, your Highness,” she answered, without making any allusion to the implied compliment, though its braverie jarred upon her ear. “The merlin belongs to my sister. The peregrines are mine.”
“Happy peregrines!” he exclaimed, pretending to apostrophise the two great falcons, that, now hooded, had been returned to their kedge. “How I should like to be one of you! Ay; would consent to be held in leash for life, could I but hope for caresses, such as you receive from the hands of your beautiful mistress. Ah! that must be sweet?”
There could be no mistaking the character of speech like this, rude even to impertinence. It brought the red into the young girl’s cheeks, and she would have angrily resented it, but was restrained by the caution late received from her sister. Still, to let it pass unnoticed was out of the question, and would likely lead to her being yet further insulted. Making an effort to curb her kindling indignation, she rejoined, calmly as she could,—
“Such language may befit the fine Court ladies, with whom your Highness is accustomed to hold conversation. We simple country girls are not used to it.”
Regardless of modest manners, even of common decency, as was this German Prince, he felt the rebuke, and quailed under it. For the glance of quiet scorn that went with the words told him he was putting on airs, and paying compliments to no purpose. In that quarter all would be thrown away.
With a light laugh he endeavoured to conceal his discomfiture, saying apologetically,—
“Oh! mistress, you must pardon the free speech of a Cavalier. Our tongues, as our swords, often fly out without reflection. Be assured I meant not to offend—far from it.”
Apology was a bitter pill for Prince Rupert to swallow; but he gulped it down with a better grace, confident of having the “bit of saucy sweetness” in his power. If he failed to make conquest of her, there was another way to fall back upon; that to which his low familiar, Lunsford, had been all along counselling him.
The little désagrément brought their tête-à-tête to an end, the Prince not caring to continue it. It could be resumed at a more favourable opportunity, which he meant to find before leaving Hollymead. Seeming suddenly to recollect himself, he said, in voice loud enough to be heard by the elder sister, as he intended it,—
“But, ladies! I’ve only half apologised for our intrusion, and trust you will pardon it, when you hear my excuses. I was on the way to visit your worthy father, with whom I have some business. When hearing the hooha-ha!—ardent falconer as I am—I couldn’t resist coming across to learn the result. Permit me to take leave of you, with thanks for your gracious reception. Unless, indeed, you do me the further honour of letting me escort you to the house. If I dared make so free, I would even ask the favour of being introduced by you to your father, with whom I regret not having personal acquaintance.”
“Our father is not at home,” said Sabrina, speaking for both.
“Indeed?” he exclaimed, looking half-disappointed, half-pleased. “That’s unfortunate. But I suppose you expect him soon?”
“We cannot tell what time he may return, your Highness.”
“Ah! he’s gone upon a journey, then. May I ask whither? You’ll pardon the inquiry, in view of my business with him?”
“To Gloucester,” she answered, without hesitation, too glad to have the questioner think that he inquired about was in that safe city.
“His absence is disappointing,” said the Prince—half in soliloquy, and half addressing himself to Captain Trevor. “It will necessitate our staying here for the night.” This loud enough for the ladies to hear. “I regret that,” he pursued, again turning to them, “not on my own account, but because the quartering of my escort at Hollymead cannot be over agreeable to you. However, I can promise best behaviour on their part; and should your servants have any rudeness to complain of it shall be punished with all severity.”
This self-invitation to the hospitality of Hollymead House, however vexatious to the daughters of its absent owner, did not at all surprise them. They had been expecting it as the upshot; for, despite his fine phrases of apology—all pretence—the Prince’s bearing and manner told them how much he felt himself their master.
Withal, they were not dismayed, Sabrina making calm rejoinder, with some formal words, that Hollymead would be too much honoured by his presence. Then in a whisper to Vaga, as they drew side by side to ride home,—
“Keep up courage, Vag. Above all keep your temper. Everything may depend on that. We’re among wolves, that may tear us if angered.”
“Go back, Captain!” called the Prince to Trevor. “Give my commands to Colonel Lunsford, and tell him to bring the escort on to the house.”
“Lunsford along with them!” ejaculated Sabrina, in undertone to her sister. “That makes my words good. We are among wolves.”
The evil repute of this man justified her speech. It had been spreading day by day, till his name was now become a synonym of inhumanity—a bogie to stop the crying of the babes in the cradle.