Chapter 59 - No Quarter! by Mayne Reid
Brought Home a Prisoner
After the cadgeress had gone out of the room the anxiety of the sisters was, for a while, of the keenest. The first flush of excitement over, they saw danger in what they had done. Should their messenger be stopped outside, and the note found upon her, there was that in it which could not fail to compromise them. Moreover its contents had reference to an important matter, a design that would be all defeated.
Luckily they had not long to endure suspense. A light tread on the stairs told of Gwenthian returning; and as she appeared in the doorway, kept open for her, the joyous expression on her face betokened a successful issue to the affair she had been sent upon.
“Win’s got safe away?” was her triumphant announcement, as she tripped lightly into the room.
“Good!” exclaimed both, Sabrina going on to inquire particulars.
“Did they let her pass without any questioning?”
“No, indeed, mistress. The sentries at the back gate—there are two at it—stopped her; and one pulled the bundle off her head. They were going to open and examine it, when Captain Trevor came up, and ordered them to put it back again. Then he passed her through the gate, saying something—like in a friendly way.”
“Did you hear what he said?”
“Only to the soldiers; telling them to let the washerwoman alone. But Win gave them a bit of her tongue too, as if she was real angry?”
“You saw her well away?”
“Yes, mistress; beyond where there were any of the people. She took the path to the falconer’s lodge, where she’s to leave the things.”
“Why leave them there?”
“Because she don’t intend returning to her own cottage. That, she said, would delay her; besides, some of the soldiers might be straying along the Ruardean road, and stop her again. She’s gone the way through the woods.”
The ladies felt relieved. Win would manage it if woman could; and should she succeed in reaching Gloucester, they might ere long look for other relief from the dangers that environed them.
But there was something to be done meanwhile; their unwelcome visitors to be entertained. And how to extend hospitality to such was a perplexing problem. Not only their numbers, but their character made it so. The common soldiers could take care of themselves outside; the signs and sounds told they were already doing so; but the Prince himself, and the officers in his suite, would have to be treated in a different way. Dinner had been spoken of—supper as called then—and this was the first thing to be thought about.
“Go down again, Gwenth,” commanded Sabrina, acting mistress of the mansion, “tell the cook to set it upon the table as soon as it is ready.”
“For how many, my lady?”
“Oh! I can’t tell. Let her count for, say a score; and send in all the eatables she can command.”
As the maid went kitchenward to deliver the somewhat indefinite directions, her young mistresses turned to making their toilette at length and at last. And, perhaps, never was one made more reluctantly, or less elaborately, for a Prince of the blood Royal. Little cared they how they might look in his eyes, or any other eyes that were to be upon them. For their hearts were full of heaviness; oppressed by keen anxiety about their father—still apprehending his return home. They knew how much he was compromised with the King’s party; had been ever since the rebellion began, and before. For, ere blow had been struck, or sword drawn, had he not resisted the loan by Privy Seal? And here again at Hollymead were the two men who had attempted to levy that loan upon him—Colonel Lunsford and Captain Reginald Trevor! They would be satisfied with no money contribution now; but meant making him their prisoner, with some severe punishment for his “delinquency.”
So feared his daughters at that hour; and, as a consequence, had little care or thought about anything besides; even of the peril impending over themselves.
“It’s strange, Rej Trevor behaving in such a way to Win,” remarked Vaga, as she stood before the mirror adjusting her rebellious tresses. “He couldn’t help knowing her, as she herself says. Once seen she’s not the sort to be easily forgotten. And after that encounter they had on the Cat’s Hill! Very strange, isn’t it?”
“Yes, indeed,” assented Sabrina; “I’ve been wondering at it myself, and at something besides.”
“What besides?”
“His behaviour in every way. He seems altogether changed.”
“I’ve had no opportunity of observing it. What makes you think so?”
“While you were apart with the Prince we had some conversation. He talks quite differently from his old frivolous way. And no more has he the swaggering manner which used to be so offensive.”
“Then he’s not the conceited Cavalier of twelve months ago?”
“Anything but that. Had I not known him in the past I should set him down for a modest young fellow, of rather melancholy temperament; or more like one who had some sorrow preying upon him.”
“What can it be, I wonder?” She had her conjecture as to what, but forbore declaring it. She had not forgotten—how could she?—his confession, made in passionate appeal, at their last interview. She knew his indifference at their parting was the purest affectation, and that the fish he had gone to catch had not been caught.
Recalling that scene, her sister could have answered the question with a near approach to the truth. But she, too, retentive of her real thoughts, but said in careless rejoinder,—
“Oh! I suppose the events of the war, which have had a saddening effect on everybody.”
“Not everybody. These self-invited guests of ours are at least an exception. Listen to them!” By this the officers of the Prince’s escort had entered the house; and from their loud talk and laughter were evidently making themselves at home and free with everything. They could be heard issuing commands, and calling out orders to the servants, as though the place were a public inn.
“Like as not,” continued Vaga, still incredulous about Reginald Trevor’s conversion, “like as not your ‘modest young fellow of rather melancholy temperament’ is laughing among the loudest of them. I fancy I hear his voice.”
“No, Vag, I don’t think you do. I can’t.”
“Well, may be not. And it’s to be hoped he’s sobered, as you say. He needed it. Strange if he is though, in the retinue of Prince Rupert, whose precept and example are more likely to have a reverse tendency. Possibly Master Rej is only humble in the presence of the High Mightiness, his master. When the big dog is by, the little one has to be on its good behaviour.”
“I scarce think it’s that; and you may be wronging him.”
“If I am I shall be glad to know it. But how odd all this?” she added, yielding to a sudden recollection. “Time was when you, Sab, were all the other way about Rej Trevor; used to caution me against him!”
She had faced towards her sister, and stood with hands full of loose hair that fell as a cataract of molten gold over her ivory shoulders.
“True, I did. And with reasons then. Our father was against him more than I; which may have influenced me.”
“And now?”
“Now I admit never having believed him so very bad—I mean at heart.”
“Oh! nobody ever said he had a very bad heart. His head was more blamed for getting him ill repute.”
“His habits rather.”
“Say habits, then. But why are you thus defending him?”
“Because of his seeming so friendly to us. All he said to me just now, with his manner, was as one who felt sorry at our being thus intruded on. He knows it’s not agreeable to us—cannot be. And his behaviour to Win—that confirms my belief that he has no hostile feelings to us.”
“Don’t be so confident till we’re sure she’s safe off. It may be only a trap to catch us. How know we he hasn’t followed to bring her back again, and so win favour from his princely patron. I wouldn’t wonder if it’s something of that kind. For in what other way is his conduct to be accounted for?”
“Heaven help us if it be that! But I won’t—can’t believe it.”
“Well, we shall soon know, now. If Win get away, I’ll think better of Rej Trevor than I’ve ever done.”
“If she do, to-morrow’s sun may see soldiers here in green uniforms, with red ones as their prisoners, and you and I, sister, will have done something for the good cause—for Liberty!”
In her most tranquil mien Sabrina Powell was an imposing personage; but now, excited to enthusiasm by the word “Liberty” on her lips, and its inspiration in her heart, with her grand eyes aglow, she looked its very Goddess.
She had finished her toilette, and stood at the window, a front one, commanding view of the avenue and entrance gate of the park. But not long was she there before seeing that which brought a black shadow upon her brow, with chill fear into her heart.
“Oh, Vaga?” she called to her sister, still at the mirror, “come hither! See what’s down yonder!”
The summons, in tone almost of agony, drew the other instantly to her side, with tresses trailing. To see three horsemen, who had just passed through the gate, and were coming on for the house. They rode abreast; he in the middle being in sombre civilian garb, the two who flanked him wearing the scarlet uniform of the soldiers already around the house.
“’Tis Rees!” exclaimed Sabrina, recognising the groom. “They’ve taken him prisoner!”
“Indeed, yes; ’tis he. Oh, sister, dear! if father should be coming home now? I hope he’s still in Gloucester!”
Vain hope; almost on the instant to know disappointment. For before those already entered were half-way up the long avenue, more red coats were seen riding through the gate, in their midst a man in dark dress—he, too, evidently conducted as a prisoner. “’Tis father!”