Майн Рид
No Quarter!

Chapter Sixteen
Trouble Anticipated

On return for Hollymead, the hawking party did not pass through Ruardean, as it would have been round about. Nevertheless, Sir Richard went that way. At a forking of the forest paths the knight excused himself to the ladies, leaving Eustace Trevor to escort them home; he, with his own servant, turning off towards the village.

Some matter of importance must have influenced him to deviate from the direct route; and that it was pressing might be deduced from the speed to which he put his horse. Soon as parted from the others, he and Hubert made free use of their spurs, going in reckless gallop down the steepest pitches, nor drawing bridle till they had reached Ruardean. A small place then as now, of some two hundred houses, contiguous to a fine old church, and ancient hostelry opposite, the streets all declivities, with some scattered dwellings that radiated off into quaint nooks and by-ways.

The clattering of hoofs had brought faces to every window, and figures into every door; for this had been heard long before the two horsemen made their appearance. And now, as these came to a halt in front of the inn, their horses breathing hard, all eyes were bent upon them with inquiring curiosity.

“Wind your horn, Hubert!” commanded the knight, in an undertone, without waiting for any one to come up to them.

A command which Hubert instantly obeyed by drawing a small cornet from under his doublet, clapping it to his lips, and sounding the “Assembly.” He had been troop-trumpeter in “the army that swore so terribly in Flanders,” and so understood the cavalry calls.

No cavalry, however, answered this one, nor soldiers of any arm; though it was answered by what looked the right material for making soldiers. Before the cornet’s notes had ceased reverberating from the tower of the church, and the walls of the old castle – then in ruins – men could be seen issuing from the doors of the nearer houses, others hastening along the lanes from those more remote, all making for the spot where the horsemen were halted.

In a few seconds nearly twenty had gathered, up and grouped around the horses; the expression on their faces showing that they understood the signal in a general way, but not the reason for its having been sounded to summon them just then. All looked inquiry, one putting it in the form of speech, —

“What belt, Sir Richard?” He who interrogated was a man of gigantic size, inches taller than any of the others. But something more than his superior stature privileged him to be first spokesman, as could be deduced from Sir Richard’s answer.

“A troop coming from Lydney, Rob. They’re through Drybrook by this, making for Hollymead. You and your friends will, no doubt, be there, too, curious to see how the soldiers behave themselves?”

“We’ll be there, sure, Sir Richard. Rob Wilde for one, an’ belikes a good many more.”

“So well,” rejoined the knight, with a satisfied look. Then leaning over on his saddle he whispered some words of a confidential character into the ear of the deer-stealer. After which, setting himself straight in the stirrups, he again set his horse into a gallop, and rode out of the village as rapidly as he had entered it.

“I hear they’re coming, Sir Richard?”

“They are, Mr Powell. By all signs, it’s the party you’ve been expecting. Indeed, there can be no doubt about its being Wintour’s troop. One of the officers at its head we made out to be Master Trevor’s cousin, as you’ve heard, I suppose?”

“Oh, yes. And of their purpose there can be as little doubt – to levy for that 3,000 pounds the King facetiously terms loan. A downright robbery, I call it.”

“I too.”

“What ought I to do, Sir Richard? I have the money in the house, and suppose I must give it to them. But if you say the word, I’ll refuse.”

“Let me leave the word unsaid till I see what sort of following is after them. There appeared to be a good many from Mitcheldean, likely to be joined by more at Drybrook, to say nothing of the contingent from nearer home. Everything must depend on their numbers and the spirit we find them in.”

“I understand,” said the other, with an assenting nod, “and will trust all to you.”

This brief dialogue was at the door of Hollymead House, its owner standing in the porch, Sir Richard still on horseback, just arrived from that passage at courier-speed through Ruardean. It ended by his dismounting and giving his horse to Hubert, with directions to take both their animals round to the stable-yard, and there keep them under saddle and bridle. Some other instructions were delivered to the same sotto voce. Then to the symphony of clanking spurs the knight ascended to the porch; and after a few more words exchanged with the master of the house, he passed on into the withdrawing-room.

His entrance was a welcome intrusion, as the company inside consisted of the awkward number three.

And soon they paired, each pair passing into the embayment of a window, and there taking stand. Not to talk of love, or even think of it; though something equally serious occupied their thoughts – something less agreeable. All were alike imbued with an instinct of danger drawing nigh, and so close, their eyes were now on the alert, apprehensively gazing down the oak-shadowed avenue.

A few seconds more and they saw what they were expecting – horses, plumed hats, and the glancing of armour – a troop outside the park gate halted till its fastenings could be undone. In an instant it was dashed open, and soldiers seen filing through – the same as they had descried on the hill beyond Drybrook.

On came they up the avenue, without making stop till within fifty yards of the house, where they were again brought up at the entrance to the ornamental grounds. These were enclosed by a haw-haw; the causeway which crossed it having a gate also. And while this was being got open all four looking from the windows had now no difficulty in identifying Reginald Trevor in one of the officers at the head of the troop; while two of them at the same time recognised the other.

“Why, bless me!” exclaimed the ex-gentleman-usher, “that’s Colonel Lunsford.”

“As I live, Tom Lunsford!” was the almost simultaneous exclamation of the knight.

“Colonel Lunsford?” interrogated Vaga, addressing herself to him by her side.

“Tom Lunsford?” in like manner questioned Sabrina, but with more earnestness as she saw Sir Richard’s brow suddenly darken. “Who and what is he?”

“One of the most notorious – but never mind, now. By-and-by we’ll talk, of him. Like enough he’ll favour us with a taste of his quality before leaving Hollymead. But,” he added, the cloud upon his brow becoming darker, “if he do – .”

The knight did not finish what was evidently intended to be a threat, partly because he saw fear coming over the face of his betrothed, and partly that the man for whom his menace was meant had got through the gate, and, with Reginald Trevor by his side, and the soldiers filing in behind them, was now close up to the house.

Chapter Seventeen
New Faces and Old Foes

While Colonel Lunsford and Captain Trevor were waiting for the haw-haw gate to be opened, they had seen the figures of two ladies outlined in the withdrawing-room windows – one in each. As yet the two gentlemen were not visible to them; these being behind and half-hidden by the arras curtains. As the officers came closer, with eyes still upon the windows, those of Lunsford, after a hasty glance at Vaga, remained fixed upon Sabrina in steadfast, earnest gaze, as on one for the first time seen, but eliciting instant admiration.

Trevor had eyes only for the younger of the sisters, his thoughts going back to the last time he had been there. He remembered it with bitterness, for he had fancied himself slighted; and, if so, the time had come for retaliation.

“What a beautiful woman! By the Cestus of Venus, a Venus herself!”

It was the ex-Lieutenant of the Tower who thus exclaimed.

“Which?” queried Reginald Trevor, with more than common interest. Well knew he the flagitious character of the man who was once more his commanding officer.

“Which? What a superfluous question! The tall – the dark one – of course. Yellow hair isn’t to be compared with her for a moment.”

“Perhaps not,” rejoined Trevor, pretending assent, glad to think his military superior was not likely to be his rival in love.

“Certes, both seem beauties in their different styles,” ran on the reprobate. “Who’d ever have expected such a pair in this out-of-the-way corner of creation? I wish Sir John had given us orders to take up quarters in Hollymead House for a week or two. That may come yet when the devil!”

His final ejaculation had nought to do with what preceded. The mention of his Satanic majesty was due to his having caught sight of a face behind that he was in the act of admiring, but the face of a man. A man well-known to him – one he hated, yet feared, as could be told by the scowl instantly overspreading his countenance, along with a whitening of the lips.

Nothing of this observed Reginald Trevor, whose features changed expression at the same time, his thoughts all absorbed in what he saw for himself – the face of another man at the other window in close proximity to that of Vaga Powell.

“Eustace still here! What the deuce can that mean?”

Both exclamation and question were unspoken, though accompanied by a sharp pang of jealousy. Some presentiment of this he had felt before, on the evening when he met his handsome cousin at the gate of Hollymead Park, going on to the house. And here was Eustace yet, when by all the rules he should have been gone days ago, standing by the girl’s side, apparently on terms of the most friendly familiarity!

He was not permitted to see them side by side much longer; nor Lunsford the other pair. For Sabrina, becoming indignant at the bold glances the latter was directing upon her, moved away from the window, Vaga doing the same; the two finally retiring from the room.

Another change of tableaux took place by Sir Richard appearing at the window occupied by the ex-gentleman-usher – which was that nearest the door – as he did, saying, —

“Master Trevor; I want you to be witness – see and hear for yourself how your Cavaliers and King’s officers comport themselves. If I mistake not, you’ll have an opportunity now.”

In the words, as well as tone, was conveyed an insinuation which, ten days before, Eustace Trevor would have resented by drawing sword; all the more that his own kinsman came in for a share of it. He had no thoughts of doing so now. Since then his sentiments, social as political, had undergone a remarkable change; and he but answered the observation by pressing in to the window, till his face almost touched the glass.

By this Lunsford had halted, and formed his troop from flank to line, fronting the house. The movement brought the cousins face to face at close distance, Eustace bowing in a frank, familiar manner. The cold, distant nod vouchsafed in return would have surprised and perplexed him but for a suspicion of the cause. His own conscience had whispered it.

All this while was Ambrose Powell standing in the porch, just as when he gave reception to Reginald Trevor delivering that letter of Privy Seal so contemptuously torn up. Nor looked he now repentant for having torn it; instead, defiant as ever. For he had cast his eyes over and beyond the men in uniform, taken stock of those out of it, compared numbers, and made mental estimate of the chances for a successful resistance. A word, too, had reached him from inside; spoken from the door of the withdrawing-room by Sir Richard Walwyn. So that when Colonel Lunsford approached, in the swaggering way he had been accustomed to in the Low Country, he was met with a firm front and look of calm defiance. It all the more irritated the King’s officer, thinking of him he had observed inside; and with the soldiers at his back, supposing himself master of the situation, all the more determined him to show his teeth.

“You are Ambrose Powell, I take it?” were his first words, spoken without even the ceremony of a salute, as he brought his horse’s head between the supporting columns of the porch.

“Ambrose Powell I am, sir,” responded the Master of Hollymead. “If you doubt my identity,” he added, in his old satirical tone, “I refer you to the gentleman by your side. He knows me, if I mistake not.”

This was a shaft shot at Reginald Trevor, further stinging him, too. But it was not his place to reply; and he bore it in sullen silence.

“Oh!” lightly ejaculated Lunsford, “it don’t need the formality of Captain Trevor’s endorsement. I’ll take it for granted you’re the man I want.”

He spoke as might a policeman of modern days about to “run in” some unfortunate infringer of the laws.

“The man you want! And pray what for?”

“Only to pay your debts.”

“Debts, sirrah! I have no debts.”

“Oh, yes, you have. And right well you know it, Master Powell. Maybe you’d prefer my calling it your dues. Be it so.”

“Nor dues, neither; I owe no one anything.”

“There I beg leave to contradict you. You owe the King three thousand pounds; just dues for maintenance of the State; your share of Supply for its necessary expenses. As I understand, you’ve been asked for payment already, and refused. But now – ”

“Now I do the same. The King will get no three thousand pounds from me?”

“He will.”

“No – never!”

“Yes, now! This day; this very hour. If you don’t give it willingly, why I must take it from you; must and shall. Possibly you haven’t so much money in the house. No matter for that. We can levy on your plate, of which, I’m told, you’ve got good store – glad to know it. I’m in earnest, Master Ambrose Powell, and mean what I say. When Tom Lunsford has a duty to do, he does it. So make no mistake; I’m not the man to go back empty-handed.”

“If you be Tom Lunsford,” sneeringly retorted the Master of Hollymead, “not likely. I’ve heard of you, sir. Robbers as you rarely leave any place empty-handed.”

“Robbers!” cried the colonel, now furious. “How dare you apply such epithet to me – an officer of the King?”

“I dare to the King’s self – if he stood there beside you.”

“A curse upon you, caitiff! You shall rue your rash words. Know, sir, that I have the power to punish sedition as recusancy. But I won’t palter speech with you any longer. Do you still refuse to lend the money – pay it, I should rather say?”

“Oh! you needn’t have taken the trouble to correct yourself. It’s a demand all the same. The ‘stand and deliver’ of a highwayman. But you shall have an answer. I still refuse it.”

“Then it shall be taken from you, sirrah?”

“If so, sirrah, ’twill be under protest.”

“Under protest be it. As you like about that; devil care I. Ha-ha-ha!” and Lunsford laughed again. Then turning to the troop, he called out to his first sergeant, —

“Dismount, Robins, and follow me with a couple of files?”

Saying which, he flung himself out of the saddle, and made to ascend the steps of the porch.

“You don’t enter my house by an open door,” cried the Master of Hollymead, stepping backward. “You’ll have to break it in first,” he added, gliding into the hallway, dashing the door to behind him, and double-bolting it inside.

Almost immediately after strong oaken shutters, moved by invisible hands, were seen to close upon all the windows of the lower story, till Hollymead House looked as though its inmates had suddenly and mysteriously abandoned it.

Chapter Eighteen
“Resist!”

In his defiant refusal the Master of Hollymead, as already said, had received encouragement by a word spoken from the withdrawing-room. It was after the ladies had passed out of it; Sir Richard, who had followed them to the door, simply saying, “Resist!” It was said in a significant tone though, and loud enough to be heard by him who stood in the porch. For the knight had now made up his mind to some sort of action, as yet known only to himself; and but returned to the window to get further informed of the chances in favour of it.

Judging by the sparkle of his eyes, they seemed satisfactory, each moment becoming more so. He had already taken stock of the soldier troop, counted its files – less than twenty – saw that half of them were but “Johnny Raws” in uniform; while the crowd beyond them numbered nigh two hundred. Not all men; but such women as were among them had the look of being able to do man’s work, even in the way of fighting. Nor were they all unarmed, though no warlike weapons were conspicuously displayed. Here and there could be seen hands holding hedge forks, or grasping hatchets, bill-hooks, and hay-knives; others carrying long-shafted hammers and mattocks – tools of the mining industry peculiar to the Forest. All implements denoting peace; but readily convertible into weapons with which could be dealt deadly blows.

Sir Richard had taken all this in, as the soldiers came to a halt at the haw-haw gate. And now that they were inside it, looking over their heads from the high window, he saw something else, for which he had been anxiously watching – another crowd on its way up the avenue, smaller than that already arrived, but more compact, and apparently under discipline. All men these, with one at their head, taller by inches than any of those behind him, easily recognisable as Rob Wilde.

The deer-stealer had been true to his promise, and done his work well; for not only was the Ruardean contingent a large one, but carried real war weapons – here and there a matchlock and snap-hans, with pikes and halberds held high above their heads – a bristling array of them.

It was just then, on catching sight of these, that Ambrose Powell retreated from the porch, and in, dashing to his door. For Sir Richard’s doings in the days past were all known to him, and why he had gone out of his way, and lingered behind the hawking party at Ruardean.

At the same moment the knight made a hasty movement away from the window, as he did so saying, —

“Now, Master Trevor! Time’s come for action. I’m not going to let our good host be plundered without an effort to prevent it. Of course you can do as you like – remain neutral if it so please you.”

“But it don’t so please me,” promptly responded the ex-gentleman-usher. “If there’s to be fighting, I draw swords too.”

“On which side?”

“Oh, Sir Richard! Why do you ask that? After what I’ve just seen and heard, you might know. Never was I aware that the King sanctioned such doings as these, nor will I be the one to abet them. Besides, you seem to forget my debt to yourself – my life; and I’ve been longing for an opportunity to pay it. My sword is at your service, as my heart, ever since you conquered both.”

“Eustace Trevor!” exclaimed the knight, with more than ordinary warmth, “I now know that you are not only my friend, but the friend of our cause, which is that of country and humanity. Your generous offer of alliance delights me, and I am grateful for it. But all the more reluctant you should compromise yourself with your father – your people. Reflect before drawing you sword! Among those we are to fight with – if it come to that – is your own kinsman, your cousin, and you may have to cross blades with him.”

“Be it so. I have reflected, and well, before espousing your cause. ’Tis now more to me than cousin – a matter of conscience. Reginald’s on the wrong side – I the right one; and if we must cross swords, let him take the consequences as will I.”

Not often in man’s face might be seen such expression as came over that of Sir Richard Walwyn while listening to these determined words. The handsome youth he had made chance acquaintance with on the road, liking him at first sight; continuing to like him notwithstanding their adverse political faith; reluctant to quarrel with him; refusing it till there was no alternative with honour – this youth, now no more enemy either to him or his cause, but friend of both, professed and sure of proving true – at thought of all this the eyes of the soldier knight sparkled with an ecstatic joy which they alone can feel who fight for country, not king.

“Enough!” he said, grasping the youth’s hand and warmly pressing it. “Glad am I to think you will be with us. Swords such as yours were an accession to any cause; and ere long, even now, there may be fine opportunity for you to prove it – baptise your new faith in the blood of Freedom’s foes. Come with me!”

Their dialogue had occupied but a brief interval of time; and as the knight brought it to an end, he strode hastily out into the hall, spurs still on and clanking. There to encounter their host, also hurrying about, and shouting to his domestics to shutter the windows. The door he had already made secure.

In the hallway the three came together, but only for a few moments to remain so. The occasion called for quick, instant action, allowing scant time for speech. Nor was there much said; Sir Richard hurriedly saying to their host, —

“Tell the ladies not to be alarmed. Say that Mr Trevor and I have gone out to reason with those rude visitors of yours, and see what terms we can make with them. If they won’t listen to – ”

Whatever the alternative meant he left it unspoken, for chancing to turn his eyes up the stairway, he there saw that he was being listened to already. On its lowest landing were the sisters, who had overheard all.

They were coming down, and now came on; Sabrina gliding forward to the knight, and laying her hand on his shoulder. He had stepped a little apart to receive her, with anticipation of something she might have to say confidential, and with her, he, too, wanted a word of that kind.

“Oh, Richard!” she tremblingly exclaimed, “what are you going to do? Nothing rash, I hope?”

“Certainly not, dearest. Have you ever known me to act rashly?”

“No; but now – ”

“Well, now. I’m not likely to change my ways. In what I intend there may be no danger after all. A little risk true, but for a big stake. No less than three thousand pounds these royal miscreants demand from your father, and will have it if we don’t do something. But we will, and they won’t get it – not this day, unless I’m mistaken about the men who are gathering outside. Ah! we’ll match them, never fear.”

He then spoke some words in a whisper, not to be overheard by the servants still rushing to and fro, which seemed further to reassure her.

“Now, love! let me go,” he said, in conclusion. “There isn’t a second to spare. Mr Trevor and I must out.”

She neither questioned nor tried to detain him longer. Whatever he meant doing, she could confide in him; if to fight, believed him capable of conquering the whole world, and wisely ruling it after. For the woman who loves there is no fancy too wild, no feat seeming impossible to him who has her heart.

More constrained was the speech passing neat at hand, for there were three taking part in it. Yet not less anxious than her sister seemed Vaga, – if anything in greater distress about the danger apprehended. Possibly but for her father being beside her, she would have addressed Eustace Trevor in a strain similar to that of Sabrina appealing to Sir Richard. As it was her looks were eloquent of fear for him, mingled with a confidence in his power to hold his own, whatever was to happen.

The scene was short – of not more than a minute’s duration – and ended by the two gentlemen guests of Hollymead House making all haste out of it – not by the front door, but one at back, which opened into the stable-yard.

Soon as on its stoop, Sir Richard called out, – “Horses, Hubert! Quick!” And quick they came. In an instant after, Hubert was seen leading two out of their stalls, another pair being led behind by the servant of Eustace Trevor. Saddled and bridled all; for word had been sent out before, and everything was ready – even to the varlet having been warned by the veteran and gained over to the good cause, now his master’s.

In twenty seconds’ time all four were in the saddle, men as masters setting themselves firm in the stirrups, taking tight hold of the reins, with a look to their swords to see there was no entanglement against unsheathing them.

Then, at a word from Sir Richard, the yard gate, hitherto shut, was thrown open, and out they all burst, spurring to a brisk canter as they rode round for the front of the house.