No Quarter!

But he was not now on any war expedition; instead, on the way to seek conquest of other kind than by the sword.

It was the day succeeding that night of revelry at his quarters in Bristol; and the words there exchanged between him and Colonel Lunsford will explain his presence on the Cat’s Hill, with face turned towards Ruardean. For in that direction also lay Hollymead House whither he was proceeding.

Quick work and a rapid ride had he made of it; evincing the strong passion of fancy with which the “bit of saucy sweetness” had inspired him.

Lunsford was with him, by his side; the two some lengths in the lead, and apart from the others, conversing as they rode on.

“You think, mein Colonel,” said the Prince, interrogatively, “we shall find the fraüleins at home this time!”

“Pretty sure of it, your Highness. Since the Goodrich ferryman heard of their being at Hollymead yesterday, it’s scarcely probable they can have taken departure since.”

“But the news from Monmouth will have reached them. How about that?”

“It will affect them somewhat, I dare say. Still, Master Powell is not a man to be easily frightened. As your Highness will be aware, Ruardean is not under the Monmouth Commissioners. Sir John Wintour on the Gloucester side, is the one Powell has most reason to apprehend a visit from. And as he will know of Sir John’s being held in check by Massey, he won’t be much alarmed, just yet. Still, no doubt, he’ll be for moving back again to Gloucester; though not in such hot haste, but that your Highness will have an opportunity of holding speech with him.”

“Gott! Sir Thomas; that should be the reverse of pleasant, from what you’ve told me about the old Roundhead’s tongue. He may give it me as he did yourself.”

“No fear of that, your Highness.”

“Why not, pray?”

“The circumstances are quite different. He had backings about him then – these ugly fores fellows, five to our one. Besides a Royal Prince – Puritan though he be – he’ll have respect for that. But what matters it about his prating? Your Highness intends laying him by the heels.”

“That will depend on circumstances. We must try the suaviter before the fortiter. If fair words fail, then – the extremities.”

“Our present visit to the Master of Hollymead is to be of a friendly character then? Is that your Highness’s intention!”

“Ceremoniously so; all the politeness to be observed by every one of our escort. You will see to that, Colonel?”

“It shall be seen to. But does your Highness propose taking them all to the house? It might be convenient to leave some at the village, to wait your coming back.”

“Nein, nein!” impatiently exclaimed the Prince. “All go on with me.”

Astute schemer as was Lunsford himself, he was not aware of certain motives actuating his master. Anything but an Adonis was the son of the Elector Palatinate. Yet such he dreamed himself, with a confidence in his power of fascinating the fair sex almost illimitable. The type and boast of Cavalierism, he wielded sway uncontrolled wherever he went, or the Royal cause was triumphant; women, as men, either willingly submitting to his caprices, or not daring to oppose them. Many a conquest had he made over weak creatures consenting. For the achievement of such he well knew the advantage of stately show and regal surroundings, nowhere more effective than in the country he was defiling with his presence. Even at this day as then, where the proverbial indemnity for the wrong-doing of kings is extended to princes and princelets, their social backslidings gaining them credit, rather than blame, under the facetious title, geniality.

No man better than Rupert knew woman’s weakness in this regard. Hence the shining retinue he had summoned to attend him in this ride through the Forest of Dean – one of the pleasure excursions he was accustomed to make under the plea of a military reconnaissance. For, although the future pirate of the West Indian seas was quite indifferent to English public opinion, there were reasons then for him not too openly outraging it. By his defeats and failures he had lost the countenance of the court, and intrigue was there busy against him.

“In that case, your Highness,” rejoined Lunsford, “there’s no necessity for our going through the village. A path leads through the woods by which it can be avoided.”

“Is it a roundabout?”

“Not much, if any. It comes back into this again, near Hollymead Park gates. If we pass through the village your Highness’s escort will gain a large accession of strength, which may not be agreeable to you.”

“Gott, yes! Something in that, Sir Thomas. Let us take the other way, then. Where does it branch off?”

“There, your Highness”; and he pointed to the embouchure of a wood road some paces ahead on the right.

Without further speech they turned into it, and rode on beneath the shadow of trees, whose branches, arcading over, hindered sight of the sun. For, though October, these were still in full foliage, the leaves falling late in the Forest of Dean. But green no more; save those of the yew, holly, and frost-defying bramble, with the mistletoe and its pearl-like pellucid berries. All others showed hues and tints varied, and almost as vivid as those of the tropical forests so much extolled by travellers.

A winding path it was, by reason of the steep incline; and as in silence the glittering cohort, forced into single file by its narrowness, slowly followed the sinuosities upward, it might have been likened to a gigantic serpent in crawl towards unsuspecting prey.

This similitude in more ways than one; for at the head of that glancing line there were serpents, though in human shape, making approach to what they intended as victims.

Chapter Fifty Five

Hawking at Home

The peregrines had killed cushat and partridge, the merlin its half-score of buntings and turtle-doves, and the ladies having had a surfeit of sport, were about setting faces homeward. Not that it was late – still wanting two hours of sunset – but the news from Monmouth had disquieted them, and they were feeling anxious about their father’s return. He might be back already, and if so, would wonder at their being away from the house.

Van Dorn had called off the dogs, rehooded the hawks, and made all ready for the start home, when game, of a sort that day unseen by them, came unexpectedly in view. A heron on its way across the Forest from the Severn to the Wye, flying low as it passed over the park.

Hapless heron! A temptation no falconer could resist; and at leave, or rather command, from the younger of his mistresses, off went hoods again, leashes were let loose, and once more away flew the noble falcons, mounting spirally upward.

Just at that moment the gates of the park were thrown open to admit Prince Rupert and his retinue. With Lunsford still by his side, the two had already looked through the rails and up the avenue. To see there what gave them satisfaction; the house with windows no longer shuttered, smoke ascending from several of the chimneys, in short every sign of occupation.

“The family here, as anticipated. Your Highness will not be disappointed this time.”

“Ah, wohl. I was beginning to think the lady of the golden locks an ignis fatuus– never to be caught.”

“There will be an opportunity of catching her now; and keeping her, if your Highness so desire.”

“You would counsel making the fraüleins our prisoners then? Is that what you mean, mein Colonel?”

“Their father at least should be made so. There’s every reason and right for it. He your prisoner, taken back with you to Bristol, ’tis but natural his daughters should accompany him, and share his captivity. If they have the true filial affection they’ll be but too willing to do that. Does your Highness comprehend?”

“Quite!” was the laconic response.

The suggestion, cruel and ruffianly, did not jar on Rupert’s ears; rather was it in harmony with his wishes, and half-formed designs. He was proceeding to ponder upon it, having ridden through the gate, when a cry, peculiarly intoned, came from a remote corner of the park, quick followed by a shrill whistle.

The air was still, and sounds could be heard from afar; these being clearly distinguishable.

“Ho-ho!” exclaimed the Prince, reining his horse to a stand. “Sport going on here! Somebody out hawking.”

The hooha-ha-ha was familiar to him.

“Yes,” said Lunsford. “That was a falconer’s cry – the cast-off.”

“Who might it be, Sir Thomas?”

“Impossible to say, Prince. The party must be behind that spinney of Scotch firs. But see! yonder the hawks! Peregrines in chase of a heron.”

“By’r Lady, yes! A splendid caste. Trained to perfection. How handsomely they mount up! Over him now! That stoop and rake, superb. A fig for your chances, master lance-beak. Hey! One of them bound! Now the other. Now down, down. Wunderschön!”

Absorbed in watching the actual conflict, all eyes directed upward, Rupert and his following for a time neither saw nor thought of anything else. No more did they of the hawking party, who, led by the chase, had pushed on through the spinney of firs to be forward at the kill. Only when the bound bird was writhing to free itself, in its last struggles lowering down to earth, did the two parties catch sight of one another. Not so near yet, a wide stretch of the park being between; but near enough for a mutual making out of what they were.

“Soldiers!” exclaimed they of the hawking party.

“Wenches!” the word that came from the lips of the Cavaliers.

“We’re in luck, Prince,” said Lunsford. “You see yonder?”

“Two ladies; yes. Are they the birds we’re in search of, think you?”

“Sure of it, your Highness.”

“Playing with other birds. Ha-ha! Well; suppose we join them at their play?”

“As your Highness commands.”

“Do you know them, Sir Thomas – I mean personally?”

“I’ve never been introduced, Prince; but Captain Trevor – ”

“Ah! I remember your saying something about his – Trevor!” he called back to an officer of his suite, “come hither!”

Reginald Trevor it was; who, parting from his place in the line, rode up, respectfully saluting.

“If I’m not mistaken, sir,” said the Prince, “you have acquaintance with the ladies we see yonder? Presumably the daughters of Master Ambrose Powell.”

“If it be they, your Highness, I once had. But it’s been dropped long ago.”

“What! A quarrel?”

“No, Prince,” answered the young officer, somewhat hesitatingly. “Not exactly that.”

“Only a little coolness, then. Well, perhaps I may be the means of restoring, friendly relations. But first I want you to perform the ceremonial of introduction. I hope you haven’t so far offended the damsels as to render you ineligible?”

Trevor stammered out a negative, at the same time announcing his readiness to comply with the Prince’s wish. He could not help himself, knowing it was more a command than request.

“Come along, then! Let us on to them. You, Colonel, keep the escort at halt here, till I ascertain whether we can have a night’s lodging at Hollymead House. That is,” he added in a jocular way, “whether we’ll be made welcome to it.”

Saying which, he gave his Arab a touch of the spur, and started off at a canter over the green sward, direct for the hawking party.

Of course Reginald Trevor went along with him; though with a reluctance which had only yielded to authority not to be gainsaid. Despite her withering words spoken at their last interview, he still loved Vaga Powell himself – hoping against hope – still had respect for her; and to introduce Prince Rupert was like being a party to the accomplishment of her ruin.

“Humph!” grumbled the ex-Lieutenant of the Tower as he looked after them, some little chagrined at being left behind; “High Mightiness thinks he’s going to have it his own way with yellow hair. He won’t though; unless he do as I’ve counselled him. But ’twill come to that – must, before we go back to Bristol – and I shall carry thither my share of the sweet spoils.”

Chapter Fifty Six

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.

Chapter Fifty Seven

A Crime in Contemplation

Still self-invited, Rupert accompanied the ladies to the house, and assisted them to dismount with great show of courtesy and respect. The little ruffle with Vaga had determined him not to try on that tack again.

He did not go inside with them, having some directions to give to his suite, seen approaching up the avenue. Besides, it was nearing dinner hour, and they must needs repair to their dressing-rooms.

Left by himself, the Prince seemed all impatience for his escort to come up. He had even shown haste when helping the ladies out of their saddles, as if wishing to be disembarrassed of them with the least delay. Some new thought, or scheme, had evidently entered his mind; and recently, or since despatching Trevor with the order to Lunsford, as then he had said nothing about time.

When they were near enough to hear him he called out, making a sign to the officer at their head to hasten them on. This was Lunsford himself, who, perceiving that something was wanted, separated from the cavalcade, spurring his horse to a quick canter. As the haw-haw gate had already been opened, he passed through it without. Stop or interruption, on to the house.

“Come up – nearer!” said the Prince, speaking low, and in a cautious manner as if he feared being overheard. He was standing in the porch, a little elevated above the ground, and as the other drew alongside, seated in the saddle, their heads were close enough for conversing in whispers.