The Lost Treasure of Trevlyn: A Story of the Days of the Gunpowder Plot

"That will I do right speedily," answered Cuthbert, whose heart was beating high with excitement and agitation. "Did harm befall them through deed of mine, I should never forgive myself."

"Go then," answered Esther; "go, and be thou cautious and wary. Remember thou hast many foes, and that the hour of peril darkens over this land. Strange things will be heard and seen ere many days have passed. Take heed that thou be far away from hence ere the day of reckoning comes. Take heed that Miriam's vow of vengeance be not accomplished, and that the house of Trevlyn be drawn into the vortex!"

Cuthbert descended the stairs with uncertain steps, his mind in a whirl of conflicting feelings. He believed that Esther was sincere in her desire for the welfare of the house of Trevlyn. He trusted her, and he saw that she had in some way or another become possessed of information concerning himself of a very particular and intimate kind. This being so, it was easy to believe that she had discovered other matters of hidden import; and he was quite disposed to give her credit for dealings in magic and charms which should show her the things that were to be.

The horror of the knowledge of this plot was upon him as he went forth into the streets and felt the keen air and the cold rain dashing in his face. He could not doubt the truth of Esther's words. All he had seen and heard tallied too well with it to leave in his mind any room for doubt. A plot of some sort he had always suspected-he would have been foolish indeed to have come to any other conclusion; but a plot of such malignity and such diabolical scope would never have presented itself to his mind. He found it hard to believe that such a terrible thing could be menaced against the King and the nobles of the land, many amongst whom must surely be of the same faith as those conspirators who were plotting in the dark.

And then the peril that menaced the Trevlyns-what of that? Cuthbert remembered the looks bent upon him a few days back by the men-at-arms in the Parliament House. He remembered the light of the sentry flashing in his face as he turned away from the door in at which the tall man they called Guido Fawkes had vanished but a few moments before. He knew that he had been observed more than once with some attention as he had stepped on board his wherry, or had brought it up to the mooring place. Could it be that he was really watched and suspected? It seemed like it, indeed. And what was more serious still, his kinsmen were like to fall under suspicion through his rash disregard of warnings.

For himself Cuthbert cared comparatively little-perhaps rather too little-for he possessed a strong dash of his father's stubbornness of disposition; and in him the Trevlyn courage was intermingled with a good deal of absolute rashness and hardihood; but the thought that Sir Richard and his family should suffer for his sake was intolerable. That must at all cost be prevented. Surely he could warn them and avert the danger.

As the youth walked rapidly westward through the miry streets, he was revolving the situation rapidly in his mind, and at last he reached a conclusion which he muttered aloud as he went.

"That will be the best: I will to mine uncle and Philip and tell them that. It will make them hasten away at once; but I will not go with them. If I am suspected I must not be seen with them, nor seem to have dealings with them. If they leave town and I remain, none will suspect that I have warned them and sent them forth. To fly with them would at once raise such thoughts. Here must I remain, and let myself be seen abroad, so will they the better escape Miriam's evil intent. Sir Richard has friends at Court. Lord Andover and others will speak for him if need be. I doubt me much, he being quietly gone, whether any will dare to strive to bring his name into disgrace. There be those to find who are the guilty ones. Sure they may let the innocent go free. As for me, I will not flee. I would fain see the end of this matter. And perchance I might even warn Master Robert Catesby of the peril that hangs over his head. Strange how so gentle and courteous a gentleman can sell himself to a work of such devilish wickedness!"

Divided betwixt horror of the deed and pity for the conspirators who had been practically discovered and frustrated in their evil work, and who had doubtless persuaded themselves and been persuaded by their ghostly advisers that it was an act of virtue and justice and right, Cuthbert walked on, wondering more and more at the strange vagaries of human conscience, and at the extraordinary self delusion possible to the sons of the Romish faction.

It was long since he had decided definitely and of resolute conviction to cast in his lot with those who held the Reformed faith; but had he ever had any secret doubts and leanings towards the faith in which he had been reared, the revelations of that night would have proved enough for him. He knew-none better-that this diabolic deed was planned and executed with the full consent, approbation, and blessing of the Romanist priests, and might even be known to the Pope himself. Sorrowful and indignant as Cuthbert had often been for the persecuted Romanists, and keenly as his sympathies would have been stirred had they risen in man-like fashion to claim liberty of conscience and fight boldly for the cause in which their hearts were bound up, he could regard a plot like this with nothing but loathing and horror. He wondered that men could be found willing to sell themselves to such iniquity. Yet he knew, from what he had himself seen, that these were no mere hirelings bought over with money to do this thing, but that they were gentlemen, most of them of noble birth and large means, all of them actuated by motives of devotion and religious enthusiasm; and that they did not prize their own lives or regard them as in any way precious, but would gladly offer them up so that this thing might be accomplished.

Well, it was a mystery, and one that he could not fathom. He could only feel thankful that no compulsion lay upon him to make known what he had seen and heard. His word had been pledged to Catesby and Father Urban, and how to have broken it he knew not. But there was no call for him even to think of this. It was not he who had discovered this strange plot. The knowledge of it was already with the King and his ministers. The conspirators themselves were half aware of this; Cuthbert well remembered the words of fear concerning some letter spoken in the lonely garden at Lambeth but a couple of days back.

How dared they, knowing so much, pursue their dark scheme? The youth shuddered as he marvelled at them. Did they believe themselves yet secure? What a fearful thing security such as that might become! Cuthbert longed to warn them, yet feared to intermeddle further in such a matter. And at least his first business lay in the warning he must instantly convey to Sir Richard, and that without revealing more of the truth than was absolutely necessary. Cuthbert was worldly wise enough to be well aware that the greatest protection his kinsmen could have against suspicion was absolute ignorance of the matter of which they stood suspected.

Sir Richard was absent when Cuthbert asked for him, but his son was at home, and the visitor was ushered into a room where Philip and Culverhouse were sitting together conversing by the glow of a bright fire of sea coal.

He was made very welcome by his cousin, and quickly plunged into the matter in hand.

"Philip," he said, "I have come to ask whether the business that has brought you to town is yet accomplished."

"Yes, verily," answered Philip, surprised. "We came to talk of Kate's rash marriage with Culverhouse there, and if it was such as might safely be ignored. My Lord and Lady of Andover, however, had adjudged that their son is too far pledged to draw back, and that for the sake of the lady's honour and happiness they must be held to be solemnly betrothed. Their punishment will be the long waiting ere they may truly wed; but Culverhouse means to tell all his tale in the ears of the Prince of Wales, and he holds that the kindly youth will doubtless give him some post about his royal person that may be a stepping stone to further wealth and advancement."

"My Lord Culverhouse need scarce do that," said Cuthbert, speaking in short, abrupt sentences. "Let me tell my news in a few words. The lost treasure of Trevlyn is found. It is hidden in the Cross Way House, where Mistress Kate and my sister Petronella are at this moment sheltering. It was thought the safest spot, for that the gipsies and the robbers of the road alike think kindly of the ladies of the Wyvern family, and hold their abode sacred-"

Cuthbert was at this moment arrested by a storm of questions and eager exclamations, which he had some small trouble in answering or setting aside. When he had so far satisfied his eager listeners as to be able to take up the thread of what he was saying, he went on in the same quick, abrupt fashion as before.

"I thought the treasure safe when I hid it there; but I have had a warning this night from one who knows well the temper of the gipsy folk. I hear that suspicion has been aroused in the tribe-that there is a resolve abroad to win it back. There is a man called Tyrrel, a notable highway robber, who has vowed to regain it for himself and his men. If this be so, I fear me that even the sanctuary of the Wyvern House will not suffice. In that house there are but women and a few old men-servants, little able to withstand a concerted attack. I have heard this news but tonight, and I have come straight on to tell thee, Philip. If your business in London be done, why shouldst not thou and thy father return forthwith home, and abide awhile at the Cross Way House, to see what fares there, and to protect the household should Tyrrel and his men attack? Methinks that they may stand in need of the presence of kinsmen at such a time as that. I hear that ill is meant by these fierce men to all who bear the name of Trevlyn. Two of the women within those doors bear that name; wherefore-"

But Cuthbert had no need to complete his sentence; both young men had started at once to their feet.

"Kate in peril!" cried Culverhouse, between his shut teeth; "then verily her husband must find his way to her side."

"Petronella at the Cross Way House, exposed to alarm and attack!" cried Philip; "then must I be there to shelter and protect her."

"We will forth this very night!" cried Culverhouse. "I will to the house and get ready my servants to accompany me."

"I will make all preparation here!" echoed Philip, "and only await my father's return.

"Cuthbert, thinkest thou that they are in peril this very night? Speak; tell us all!"

"I trow not," answered Cuthbert with some decision, knowing that his object was well accomplished and that the Trevlyns would make all speed to leave London, yet scarcely himself wishing them to hurry off in the night like fugitives in fear for themselves. "I am certain sure that no immediate peril hangs over them, or I should have been more urgently warned. I would not have you hasten thus. I trow it would more alarm the ladies to be aroused by you in the middle of the night than to see you come riding thither later in the day on the morrow. Surely it would be better to wait for day. The night is black and tempestuous; it will be hard to find the road. Tomorrow with the first of the sunlight you may well ride forth."

Culverhouse and Philip both saw the soundness and reasonableness of this counsel, and knew that their respective fathers would both concur in this opinion, though their own impatience chafed at the delay.

"And thou-what wilt thou do thyself, Cuthbert?" asked Philip; "come with us to Cross Way House?"

Cuthbert hesitated a few moments, debating within himself what were best. He had been warned on the one hand to flee the forest, on the other to flee the city. If his mysterious gipsy friends were right, for him there was peril in both places. But it certainly seemed to him that his own presence and company would add to the perils of his kinsmen; and his decision was speedily taken.

"I hope to join you there anon," he said; "but I have something set my heart upon seeing this grand pageant when his Majesty shall open his Parliament on the fifth. Methinks I will stay for that, and then perchance I will forth to the Cross Way House."

He looked keenly at both his companions as he spoke, but neither face wore the least look of any secret intelligence. He was certain that no whisper of the plot had reached their ears.

"Ay, do so, and come and tell us all," said Culverhouse gaily. "I had thought to be there myself, but I must to my Kate's side.

"Philip, thy father will be something loath to leave London ere that day. Thinkest thou that thou canst persuade him?"

"I trow I can," answered Philip; and then they both turned on Cuthbert, asking him for a more detailed account of his search after and his discovery of the lost treasure, hanging with eager interest on his words.

It was late ere he left their lodgings, and the family at the bridge house had retired to rest. He found his way to his room; but little sleep visited his eyes that night, and the fitful dreams which came to him betwixt waking and sleeping seemed charged with ominous warnings.

Sir Richard Trevlyn heard his son's story in great surprise, but he hesitated not a moment as to the course of action they must pursue.

"I would it had been brought to Trevlyn Chase. We have a household of men there, and could well defy these rogues of the road. But Cross Way House has no such defences, and it is tenanted mainly by helpless women, and we must lose no time in going to their assistance. I have heard long since of this man-Tyrrel. He is a notable outlaw, and there is a price upon his head. The forest will be well freed of him if we can overthrow him. He has owed his safety again and again to his reckless riding and the alliance and good fellowship he has with the forest gipsies. It is time the whole brood were smoked out from their hiding places. They want destroying, root and branch!"

Sir Richard found it easier to remember that the treasure had been stolen and hidden by the gipsy people than that it had been restored partly through the assistance of the woman Joanna, the queen. However, there was little time for further talk. The night was already advanced, and on the morrow they were to make as early a start as was practicable.

Sir Richard had not many servants of his own, but Culverhouse could bring a good dozen men with him. Unluckily the storm raged all through the earlier hours of the following day, and it was not till noon that a start could be made. However, the seventeen miles' ride could be easily made before dark, although the roads were deep in mud, and travelling in the open country was both tedious and bad.

The last of the scattered hamlets had been passed. The sun glowed red before them in an angry, lowering sky. Sir Richard and his son and Lord Culverhouse paused on the brow of the ridge to look both before and behind. They had in their impatience outridden their servants, who, less well mounted, found some difficulty in spurring along the deep mire of the ill-made roads. They could but just see them on the horizon of the last ridge, coming onwards at an even jog trot, which seemed the swiftest pace they aspired to.

Before lay the long waste of forest-trees and heather intermixed in long stretches alternating one with the other. A good seven miles lay between them and their destination, and the sun was already nearing the horizon, and would soon dip behind it.

"We must push on something faster," said Culverhouse impatiently, "if we are to reach Cross Way House before dark."

"We have already far outridden our men," said Sir Richard, frowning slightly as he turned his head to look over his shoulder; "and this is the worst part of the road before us."

"But we are well mounted and well armed," urged Culverhouse, "and if we wait for the men we shall lose the rest of the daylight. Surely if there be any footpads about, the fact that we are followed by so goodly a train will serve to scare them away. And we have no valuables upon our persons. They will get cold steel and hot lead for their pains, an they venture to molest us, instead of silver or gold."

"Very true," said Philip, who was as eager as his cousin and endued with full share of Trevlyn courage and impetuosity; "we can never wait till those sluggards have come up. The fault is not theirs: they are not so well mounted as ourselves. We shall never keep our horses to their pace, try we never so hard."

"Forward then, and let us ride as fast as our steeds can carry us!" said Sir Richard with a smile; "for if we wait not for our men, the daylight is our best friend. We are all familiar with the road, and our horses likewise. Forward! and all eyes keep a sharp lookout to left and right. At least we will not be set upon unawares."

Putting spurs to their horses very gladly, the younger men placed themselves one on each side of Sir Richard, and the good horses settled themselves to a steady hand gallop, which was the best and surest pace for getting over those rough muddy roads.

Three miles had been safely traversed. Absolute solitude and silence seemed to reign throughout the woodland tracks. But the darkest of the forest still lay ahead of them, and the red ball of the sun had just dipped behind the ridge in front.

"It will be dark beneath the trees," said Sir Richard; "have a care, lads, how you ride.

"Philip, thine eyes are better than mine. Dost thou see aught there to the right of the road, just beneath that great oak?"

Philip had seen already, and his answer was quickly spoken.

"They be horsemen," he said-"horsemen drawn up and, as it were, awaiting us. I fear me we shall not pass without molestation. But my counsel is not to pause, rather to gallop still on steadily, as though we saw them not. But let us be ready; and if they dare to molest us, let us with one accord discharge our pieces in their faces. That will disconcert them for a moment, and we may perchance outride them. We are but three miles and a half from Cross Way House. I trow we can make shift to reach its friendly shelter; and once there we shall be safe."

"It is useless to pause now," answered Sir Richard, who was always cool and self possessed in moments of real peril. "Our men are a mile behind, and to hesitate would be to lose all. A bold front is our greatest safeguard. We are all well skilled in the use of arms. Be watchful and vigilant, and make you sure that every shot and every stroke will tell. We have need of all our strength, if we are attacked. But they may let us pass unmolested; they may guess that our followers are behind."

Culverhouse said nothing, but he set his teeth hard and his eyes flashed ominously. He had never tasted real warfare before, and it seemed to fire the blood in his veins and send it tingling through his body. Each rider so shifted his carbine that it could be readily used at a moment's notice.

And now they had reached the forest aisle. Their good horses, still galloping freely and easily, bore them rapidly onwards. They had almost reached that silent, motionless band awaiting them with sinister quietude. In another moment they would have passed them, when, on a sudden, a voice rang out clear and sharp through the still air:

"Halt! stand! Stand, or we fire!"

"Ride on and fire!" said Sir Richard in calm tones; and the next moment the echoes were awakened by three sharp reports of firearms and by a yell-three yells-of human rage and pain. A roar of execration and menace arose from twenty throats, and twenty blades gleamed brightly in the gathering dusk. But already the riders had passed the little band, sweeping by before they were well aware of it. And as they did so, they heard a voice exclaim, sharpened by rage and pain:

"It is they-it is our foes! I knew it-I knew it! Those are the Trevlyn brood that we were warned would pass-the false sire and his son and nephew. After them, my men! Let them not escape your vengeance! Take them, or slay them, but let them not escape! They have the treasure. We will have them. The vengeance of the gipsy tribe shall be consummated! They shall not make it void. They shall give life for life-blood for blood!"

"They shall! they shall! They shall not escape us. We will be avenged, and the red gold shall be our reward!"

Sir Richard set his teeth as he heard these words, and dug his spurs into the sides of his horse, causing the noble animal, who seemed to share his master's knowledge of the deadly peril they were in, to spring forward with redoubled speed.

"We must save ourselves by flight; they are six to one!" he said in low tones to his companions, who kept pace for pace at his side. "It will be a race for life; and if we are beaten, all we can do is to sell our lives as dearly as may be. It is not robbery alone, it is vengeance, the old grudge against the Trevlyns. But if we can but make Cross Way House ere we are outridden, we may save ourselves yet."

Chapter 24: Kate's Courage

Lady Humbert had left the Cross Way House for a three days' visit to a sick relative who had sent an urgent message to her. Mistress Dowsabel remained in charge of the house and its small establishment, lessened considerably by the removal of four of the men servants who had attended their mistress on her journey.

Mistress Dowsabel would gladly have accompanied her sister, for she was always nervous and ill at ease in her absence, but she was withheld by two considerations. In the first place, she was suffering from what was then termed a rheum, which we should call a bad cold in the head, so that the idea of a wet cold journey of some hours' duration was exceedingly unwelcome; in the second, it was not thought seemly by either sister that the young girls, their guests, should be left in the house without some guardian and protector; and Mistress Dowsabel therefore decided to put her fears on one side and remain in charge.

"And beside, what is there to fear?" Lady Humbert had said, in her decisive and cheery fashion. "We are quiet and peaceable folks, and have naught to dread either at home or abroad. I shall strive to be but three nights absent; and our merry Kate will uphold thy spirits, sister, till my return. Thou wilt be better by the fireside than journeying in the saddle this tempestuous weather."

This fact was self evident, and Mistress Dowsabel had no desire to leave the fireside.

"I must e'en do the best I can without thee, sister," she said. "I doubt not my fears be foolish. I will strive that the girls be not affected thereby."

"I trow it would be no easy matter to teach them to Kate," said Lady Humbert with a smile. "She has all the spirit of Wyvern and Trevlyn combined. She will be a stanch protector for thee, Dowsabel, if thou art troubled by strange noises in the wainscot, or by the barking of the dogs without."

"Thou thinkest me a sad coward, sister; and so perchance I am," said meek Mistress Dowsabel. "But if ever thou art absent from the house, I am beset by a thousand fears that assail me not at any other time. My heart is heavy as lead within me now."

But Lady Humbert could not delay her journey on that account. She said something equivalent to "Fiddle dee dee!" and hastened forward her preparations with her customary energy. Kate flitted about and chattered merrily to her, having won her way by that time to a very soft spot in the heart of her ancient kinswoman.

"I am glad to leave thee with thy aunt Dowsabel, child," said Lady Humbert before she left. "Ellen will read to her and see to her possets and her little fire-side comforts; but thou wilt assist her to overlook the household and servants, and cheer up her spirits and her courage if either should flag. She is strangely timid when I am not by. Thou must do what thou canst to keep away her fears."

"Fears!" echoed Kate, laughing; "why, wherefore should we fear?"

"There is small cause, but Dowsabel is by nature timorous, and she will lean on thee, child though thou art, when I am gone. There be certain charges I would lay upon thee. The men will be gone, all but old Thomas within doors and Joshua without; wherefore I will ask thee to go round the house thyself at dusk each eve, and see that all bolts and bars be securely drawn. That is Andrew's work, but he will be with me. Dyson and thou hadst better go together-or thou and Cherry. Thou wilt not be afraid of such a task?"